18 weeks

Just a quickie!

I'm getting several rows off people for being behind on my blogging, so this is my attempt to catch up. Briefly.

I'm back to having energy. Sort of. Back up to about 80% anyway. So that's great! I don't feel sick any more. Apart from this week after eating my lovely breakfast of avocado on toast with sweet chilli sauce and pepper. Who'd have thought?

I have a belly. An actual showing one, not the one that I could see before everyone else could. It's weird though, because the bigger I get, the more I look at myself and think I looked this big before. Body image is a strange thing. I love my bump though. I really do. It's all bump-ish, and there's a baby in there.

I can't believe I'm pregnant sometimes. I spent a long time, wondering if it would ever happen for me, and accepting the fact that it might not. But now I think I'm getting to feel little hombre move! I think. This doesn't sound good, but I think it feels like dread. Like when something really scary is happening and your stomach turns over. Well that's what it first felt like anyway. That and wind. Now I think I recognise it when I feel it, though it's still not that often. I'm hoping I might feel something on Friday when we go for our scan, so I can see it the same time I feel it.

We should be told on Friday if we're having a boy or a girl. We're very excited to find out. It'll will allow us to cut out 50% of the name choices too (hence cutting out 50% of the arguments). Not that we'll be sharing any name ideas. There are name stealers out there you know. And other people have babies. If I don't tell them and they don't tell us then we don't have to have any obligation thoughts, and who thought of it first thoughts. Yes, definately not sharing the name. How unusual for me to keep a thought to myself....

It'll be time to start thinking about what we need to buy for the baby soon. I don't know where to start! Shouldn't people let you try before you buy? With babies I mean. If I had one for a week or so, I'm sure I'd start to figure out what I need. Not that I'm offerering to babysit.

So I shall update you about the sex of hombre when we know. If it's a girl, will we have to stop calling it hombre?




PS The kids in school are really sweet, they regularly say things like "Morning Miss, Morning Hombre". Gotta love em.

12 week scan

Yesterday was our 12 week scan in the ante-natal unit at the hospital. First things first, it is so different to the IVF clinic. That was, well, rather clinical. It was perfunctory and very 1980s. In the new hospital there were trees and flowers and things painted on the walls. The chairs were set out in a big square, all facing inwards. It was like a therapy circle, a place where people weren't afraid to look each other in the eye and smile hello. There were beautiful photographs of newborns all over the walls, and lots of staff wandering round and chatting to everyone.

This was not a place a bad news.

I had woken up in tears, only managing to sleep the night before because I ate out with friends and was shattered by the time I got home. I was all of a panic and couldn't get a proper grip on beign positive. But as soon as we got there I felt pretty good, the atmosphere was just so..... expectant.

It was a busy place, where they gave you a private room for the ultrasound, but sometimes there were 3 couples in the same small room filling in forms and giving blood etc, because there was no reason to think anyone would need privacy.

The scan was beautiful. The last time we saw hombre, he (or she-we've just got in the habit of calling hombre he cos hombre is a boy "name") was just a little kidney bean with a little flashing spark for a heartbeat. Now hombre not only has all the working tiny bits of body, but he's moving like a right boogier. He must have his mother's rhythm. She started scanning and I was just so shocked. "Is his arm moving!?!?!?" I said, as the arm was blatantly flinging up and down, legs were kicking, head was turning left and right....
We saw a head, a tiny button nose, a butterfly brain, the spine, some ribs, fingers, toes, the whole kaboodle. I was just not expecting such an active baby to be in there. I've seen lots of people's ultrasound pictures, and I understood that it would be easier to see when it was moving, but I didn't know that it would be moving like a born baby. Stunning. I get the idea now that there's a baby in my womb.

That sounds pretty stupid I guess, but it's a baby. It's not a kidney bean, it's not (thankfully) an ex-kidney bean. This is going to happen. That is so scary to say, in case I jinx it, but I should be brave enough to say it now. My name is Jennie and I'm going to have a baby. Ha!

Unfortunately, I still spent almost the whole day yesterday crying. I don't know whether it's hormones, or relief, or frustrations, or all of the above. But happy news=day spent crying is just bl**dy annoying. Where was my day of happiness? I feel a bit robbed. But I feel better today. Maybe I'll even be able to share the happiness around a bit. I kind of p*ssed on my parents' parade yesterday by showing them the happy pictures then spending an hour sobbing to myself. What a cow. I'm a little less than impressed with myself at the moment. I'm walking around, spreading the misery wherever I go. I'd like to get a grip now please. I'd like to be a rational person and be happy and relaxed about this pregnancy.

So today is a new day. I'm gonna try to have a new attitude. Look forwards, feel good, allow others to celebrate around me - they are as pleased about this as hubby and I are, and I should let them feel excited too.

Here's hombre having a dance. If you look closely, there's a even a couple of Titanic handprint moments too...

The smallest club in the world.

OH and I are so hopeful. We are happy in the knowledge that this is on the way to happening. We are beginning to believe that we might be finally on the right path. But we are alone.

When we started this journey I felt like I knew hardly anyone in real life who had waited like I was waiting. I found support in a particular thread on a message board website I used a lot, and then later on twitter too. The infertile community online understood me. They knew how I felt when AF arrived. They knew that is was ok to feel jealous when a friend announced they were pregnant, and that I was still happy for them. They knew what to advise me about my first consultation at the fertility clinic and how to limit the pain of the HSG. They knew to tell me it was ok not to take any more of the psycho clomid tablets and that it wasn't letting the side down to allow myself a month or two off tryng for babies.
And, they knew how I only wanted to hear the details of pregnancy from my closest friends. I did not want to see a fb friend posting an ultrasound picture, I didn't want to guess the baby weight of a child that I know was conceived long after I started trying and I didn't really want to follow my twitter friends that became pregnant if their tweets were suddenly all about their pregnancy. It sounds awful to say out loud, but I know my tweeps would understand why I felt that way.

But now it's me. I'm the lucky one. I have questions and worries about pregnancy, and I know that my collection of online friends are still, for the great part, waiting for their turn. I don't want to make them feel the way that I felt so many times. I have exiled myself from the infertiles club - though that's where I feel my experiences place me. So I have tons of friends IRL that have been pregnant - do I turn to them? Well yes. And no. My pregnancy is different to those where the pregnancy was less hard fought for (not more/less important or less wanted- don't get me wrong) because in just over 3 years since hubby and I decided we were ready for a family I have had about 40 bad newses, and 1 big good news. I'm not used to things going smoothly. I'm used to needing painful tests, and injections, and mind altering hormones. I'm sure all expectant mothers are nervous, but there's a smaller number that have such a history of being told things by doctors with such serious faces.

So do I turn back online? I must be able to find plenty of ex-infertiles there? Well yes, but again I feel like most of the people there have suffered losses, disappointments and trials that I have been lucky enough to avoid. My IVF worked first time (if little hombre continues to stick) and I feel like I don't have the series of heartbreaks that they have had to group me with them.

So I feel like OH and I are in the smallest club in the world. My time with the infertiles has passed. Those who got pregnant on their own can't understand my neuroses. I imagine that most of those who had assisted conception will think that I've had it easy. So who's with me? Anyone? Anyone?

Anyone?

Today's torture....

We had our 7 week scan today.

It was torture. Our appointment was scheduled for 9:45, and we arrived at the hospital 10 minutes before, grabbed a quick cuppa and headed up to the clinic.

We have been quite wound up waiting for this confirmation of pregnancy and although it's only been 3 weeks since we got our BFP, it has felt like forever to us.

So we waited patiently. OH read cover to cover of a National Geographic magazine. I read cover to cover of today's Sun newspaper. One was really good, one was really crap. You guess which.

We watched everyone else in the clinic go in, even those who came after us. We watched many people come back out again and go about their day. Then our name was called. Yeay! when you are seeing the nurse, you move from the waiting room to the corridor outside the appointment rooms and you wait again.

So we waited again, sure that it wouldn't be long now. We read a Boots magazine, and a Mac Format magazine. And I started to get wound up. All this time waiting for a baby, and this would be what made it really real, or snatched it away from us and we were being made to wait.

I started to cry. Not a little quiet weep to myself, but a big,can't-hide-it sob. OH promptly got protective and went straight to find out what was going on. Nurse Doe-Eyes (who I think was from the Embryology department, not the clinic) took us into one of the appointment rooms and let me cry it out, apologising profusely. I may be going private, but this is still essentially an NHS clinic, they were understaffed, only one person there could do the scans and the couple before us had had bad news and needed extra time.

This explained to us what was going on, but did not offer much comfort. Soon we were called through and they were ready for us. We'd waited and hour and 10 minutes after our appointment time, and that last 45 minutes nearly did me in. Hubby especially.

He was bloody horrible to the scanning lady. He was worried about the scan, I'd freaked him out by crying and he was snarky as anything with the lovely lady. She didn't really know what to do with herself, love her. She'd just spent goodness knows how long comforting a broken hearted couple, just to come in to us - who were already upset and now having a go at her!

So down to business. The scan, in the end, took just 2 minutes. Hombre-o the embryo has indeed graduated to a full foetus. It is now a whole 11mm from head to rump (I think that's where they measure) which is the right size for a 7 weeker. Hombre had a heartbeat we could see twinkling on the screen and we are now, ourselves, graduates from the clinic. We need to go tell our GP that we are pregnant, get a midwife, get referred to the local hospital and wait for a 12 week scan.

Just like a normal person.

I am not a big fat faker I am not a big fat faker I am not a big fat faker I am not a big fat faker.

We really are pregnant, and things are just starting to look ok. This is a big hurdle that we have flown over, and I really hope everything will be plain sailing from here. Yeay!!!

PS. I did NOT get what I expected when I did an image search for hombre.

D-day. Otherwise known as POAS day.

So, as most of you already know, We got our BFP!

Warning: I talk about pee here. More than a normal person should.

The night before POAS day was pretty much spent not talking about it. Too scary. I think hubby understood that I was too freaked out, and talking wasn't actually going to ease that. So he read me to sleep (as he does whenever I'm wound up) and I dropped off without too much trouble. I guess it's an advantage of working so hard on the new house. I woke up once in the night and managed to go back to sleep. Then I woke up again at 5.30a.m. and needed to go to the loo. I knew I would need to use my morning wee for the test, so I just lay there for a while. Quietly freaking out on my own. Eventually my stirring (and humphing) woke up OH.

When it came down to it, I didn't want to do the test. I was so aware that it could be negative that I didn't want to do it. Without the test I at least still had hope. The test would possibly take that away from me and leave me with nothing. Just with a hole in my parents' bank account. So after much grumping, and when I couldn't hold the pee in any more, hubby agreed that if I went and poas, I could just hand it to him and he would be brave and look at what it said.
I feel I should point out here that I had one of those swish pregnancy tests. not pregnant. pregnant. And I'd not had one of those before. Mine were always 5 for £3.80 from accessdiagnostics.co.uk because I went through them like fun. But, of course, it wasn't fun.

So anyway, back to the main event. After all that I thought I was busting to go to the loo, when it came down to it I was worried I didn't have enough. But we did. And before I could stand up and hand it to OH, it was already flashing pregnant. I panicked. I thought I'd broken it. The little egg timer was flashing and all I could think was, does one word come up before the other?
pregnant.......not! Was I meant to not look until the full three minutes were up? I was just stunned. In a complete state. OH saw the little egg timer stop, and 2-3 weeks appeared. Very accurate, clearblue, very accuarate. We did another test. Well, OH did it with the little bit I'd managed to catch in a pee pot. That's love that is. It had 2 pink lines. Bingo.

So we started to believe it. A bit. We rang our parents, texted my bro and SIL (away on holiday), spoke to our closest friends, posted it on fb (as you do) and went back to sleep, exhausted with the excitement.

Now I'm in the tricky place of realising that I've got what I wanted, and it isn't enough. We're pregnant. I'm now at the point I longed to be at, having the same chances as all the fertiles in the world. And I know we're not there yet. Now I want my 6 week scan to be good. And the 12 week scan, and OMG, I'm going to never be able to relax again. What was I thinking?!? Fertiles lose babies all the time. Babies are born ill, kids are nothing but trouble, teenagers are worse and what if I have to watch my grown up kid go through all this in the future?

Why on earth did I think that this would make me feel like I had achieved my goal? That was naive...

Long Time No Blog.

I've realised I've not blogged for about a fortnight (which is FOREVER at the moment) so I thought I'd catch you all up quickly.

Egg collection was fine. A bit weird though. I was very nervous and got myself a little wound up. I even got hubby's birth date wrong (he wasn't very impressed). We met various nurses and embryologists and the like - every one of them was very sweet, friendly and patient. The best people in the world. WE had various surveys and things to fill in which was quite funny. "Do you see your embryo as a chance for a future baby?" Yes. "Are you nervous?" Yes. "Do you already think of your embryo as part of your family?" Uh, no! (Cuckoooooooo).
So OH went and did his part. Successfully. Well done dear. Then I went on in for the EC on my own while he went to pick up my prescription.
EC consisted of about 6 people wandering round me while I had my bits up in the air. But, to be fair, that stirruped chair was really comfy. I might get me one of those. Or not. So they gave me the drugs (in an IV thing in my arm - I was expecting it up my bottom, this was preferable!) and I remember telling Nurse Latin on my right that I didn't feel anything happening with the drugs. I think this was because I remember being given the anaesthetic for my op in November, and it all hit me in a bout 3 seconds (I remember saying 'Oooh, there's the woozy') but this took longer - probably a minute or 2.
So I didn't go woozy, I just suddenly don't remember chunks of time. I blinked and all of a sudden there was this sensation of a stapler being hit. Yes, in my lady parts. Nurse Latin was brilliant, she explained that that was the needle going through my vaginal wall (I didn't feel any pain, just that stapler sensation), gave me some more drugs and off I went again. I must have come round about 3 times, and each time Nurse Latin explained what was happening and topped up my dosage.
Apparently they took me back to the recovery room sat up in a wheelchair, I called out to OH that I was there and that it hadn't hurt, they stood me up, walked me to the recliner, sat me in it, reclined me and let me go back to sleep. I say apparently as I don't remember any of that. I also had conversations with hubby, passed out in the middle of a sentence, woke up half our later and carried on where I left off. Them was some gooooooood drugs. After a while I came round properly, had a sandwich and went home. There weren't any nasty after effects or anything, a couple of twinges, another nap and I was fine.

We had 8 eggs harvested, 7 were mature enough to inject, 1 didn't fertilise, 2 fertilised abnormally and 4 fertilised well. By transfer day, 1 of those 4 looked a bit dodgy so we had 3 good embryos. OH and I hadn't been sure how many embryos we wanted to transfer back in, but when we realised we had 3 it felt right to put 1 back in and freeze 2 for if we need them in the future.

Transfer was really simple except for the fact that my bladder is crazy. But hey, I learned the new skill of letting out a bit of pee then stopping. It turns out I can let out an eggcupful or a mugful and stop. And still have plenty left over for my "clear window". The catheter they put past my cervix was so small I couldn't even feel it. Less uncomfortable than a smear, definitely the easiest part of the whole process. Hubby and I got to see our actual embryo, then they brought it in, we saw the little squirt on the ultrasound (hubby swears it was a "spark") as it was put into my womb and then we were just sent home.

It is so hard, after being (by necessity) so controlling throughout this whole process about what time drugs are injected, how warm the drugs are, how much to inject etc, to just put the embryo in and hope nature makes it stick. Nature hasn't done so well for us so far, and to be honest, I'm not sure I trust that Mother Nature has been paying much attention our way.

Since then OH and I have moved house. This is always going to be a stressful experience. We tried to minimise the stress as much as possible, we paid for movers and enlisted friends and family to help, but the stress has kept coming. Mainly from our solicitor, who I do not recommend. At all. We've been in the house 2 days and she has now rung us to say, oops, the money SHE told us we needed to pay was actually £500 short. But at the moment she's not sure why. Righto lady, you send us those details and we'll figure out what to do with them. I know what my first instinct is...

POAS day is coming up. We're actually going to test a day earlier than the clinic has recommended, as that day is the day of my husband's 30th birthday party. If it's bad news, hopefully a day to cry will be enough for us to still enjoy his party. It's so horrible how unrelated areas of your life get affected by waiting round to get pregnant. I really want hubby to enjoy his birthday party, but I feel like I've been letting him down because we've got so much on. Hopefully our stick will give us good news, and it can be an amazing birthday present. Honestly, with all the things we've been doing, not only is this holiday sneaking past us, but POAS day is almost here and I haven't considered my feelings. I am possibly about to have a big fall on my face that I'm not prepared for...

Egg Collection

So egg collection was yesterday. I was really nervous about what it would be like. For those who don't know what it entails, the ultrasound wand thingy (or dildocam as Ali calls it) goes up as usual, then a needle (somehow) comes out of the end, goes through your vaginal wall and finds the ovaries just on the other side, picks up the eggies and retreats. During this procedure you are sedated, but not unconscious, as they like to be able to ask you to move etc when they need you to.

So anyway I was nervous, really nervous. My bad experience with the HSG has shown me that my pain threshold is not infinitely high like I previously thought it was, and things can hurt me more than I can stand. I was expecting suppository drugs, as I know others have had them this way, but I had an IV instead. I guess that is so they can control the amount of drugs in my system at a time.
There were 6 of us ladies in the recovery room (a room with lots of curtains and 6 reclining chairs - not much else) and Nurse Frantic, who was, as you may have guessed, entirely frantic. I found it amazing that after all it has taken us to get this far, there were still 6 of us going through it in one morning. There must be so many people who suffer like we have suffered...
OH did his part, we met the embryologists, covered up my hair and feet (all I could think was that the little feet covers were what the murderers wore on The Silence) and I left hubby and headed in to the room. I was aware of very little of the procedure really. It was funny, because They put the drugs in and I remember telling them all that I didn't feel anything yet and the drugs weren't doing anything. The next second (or so it seemed) I was jumping out of my skin because there was this sensation of them punching through my vaginal wall. It didn't hurt, it kind of made me think of hitting down on a stapler. A big noise, a feeling, but not pain. I came around a few times when something particularly uncomfortable was done, but the lady on my right was always talking to me when I was aware, telling me what was happening and putting more drugs in my system. The whole thing was just fine. I've had some twinges since, but I haven't really needed any tablets (I got myself co-codemol in preparation) and a hot water bottle has done me fine. I love hot water bottles. You know it's bad if a hot water bottle can't sort you out.

So I am completely relieved. I also slept fine last night, so that was another relief.

We've had a phonecall this morning from the embryologist. The results thus far are in! They collected 8 eggs, 1 of which ws not mature enough to bother with. 7 were injected directly with a single sperm. 1 of those didn't fertilise at all, 2 fertilised abnormally. So we are left with 4 good embryos. They have booked us in for embryo transfer on Thursday morning. I was expecting to feel elated at this point, but I don't. Lots of the tweeps online feel disappointed when they learn how many embryos they have, and I do too. I know 4 is a decent number. I know you only need 1, but I now think I'm unlikely to have any to freeze, and that makes it all feel very all or nothing. Which is a scary position to be in. Let's face it, the whole thing is pertrifying.

Oh, and now I'm on progesterone suppositories too. Great fun. I put them in and I'm petrified to break wind, in case it comes out and I suddenly can't have this baby. Great. Way to mess with my head.

Baby be brave

Baby be brave - The Corrs

Tell me what's it all for
If you're not terrified to fail

What I did for love...

Yesterday I had my next scan. Biggest follie went up from 16mm to 23.4mm. Not bad for 2 days! Nurse Chick scanned us. She was brilliant. Had lots of time for our questions, and talked us all the way through the scan. I now know what's going to happen for the Egg collection, and it didn't seem as scary as I thought it would. I had visions of this needle needing to travel half a foot around my internal organs, but it just needs to nip through my vaginal wall really. Not too bad.
Nurse Chick thought I'd probably have my egg collection on Friday, but when checked with the Doc, and decided that Monday will be best, to give the smaller ones extra time to catch up. This means that my poor swollen ovaries have to keep swelling. I feel like such a heffer.

Today's not been a great day really. Work is crazy, I feel like some people are trying to wind me up and the house is hopefully all about to go through and we should be moving a fortnight tomorrow. Smack bang in the middle of the 2 week wait. I've had a really good cry tonight, and now I'm holed up in my room watching A Chorus Line. What I did for love is taking on a new meaning, as do many songs about love and longing these days. OH has brought me the laptop, tea in bed, a squash, a cup of tea and is now entertaining our dog. And he's not even looking too stressed. Though I'm sure he is. I'm surrounded by stress, and I think I would be fine if everyone else just would be too.

Things are really starting to get the better of me now. I'm so glad we're doing it now with the summer holidays. Our NHS go is due around Christmas time, and knowing how hard this is now, when it's supposedly an easy time of the year makes me so glad I'm not doing it at the busiest time of the year. How do I make it through egg collection, egg transfer, the two week wait and the results? And all of that is just to get to the point where it begins for most people, actually being pregnant. The long road has never felt like a more appropriate title for this Blog. My RL friends had better start clearing their diaries, because I think I'm going to need a lot of company, entertaining and distracting in the coming weeks. Because my head is going to pop.

Manor Way

I hate Manor Way.

Manor Way is the road I sit on everytime I go to the clinic. I'm invariably on my own, as I'm either coming from work, or am going to work afterwards. Manor Way is where I sit and panic. It's where I wait in traffic that goes on forever and think about all the things that might be about to go wrong. I need to find some positive way to use that time - I tried to plan out this blog, but until I've been in for my appointment there's not much I can plan.

So I went for my scan and I was really worried that nothing would have been happening. And OH wasn't able to come, so Mam joined me. I never thought I'd have any sort of internal with my mother in the room, but I'm glad she was there.

There was a new doctor again (I only ever saw the one consultant all through the lead up, but now I'm seeing someone new each time!). I'll call her Dr. Business. She was all business. Pleasant, but not really interested in chatting to me. She gave me the whole scan whilst avoiding talking to me. And it took longer than the baseline scan. Ovary number 2 must have been a little more difficult to see, as instead of the little adjustments she made with the first, this had whole body movements to get to position, and was a lot less friendly to my poor battered cervix. She didnt' try to show me what was on the screen, and eventually when my nerves couldn't handle it any more, I said, "Are they growing?" "Yes, growing" was her (not quite) comforting reply. Mam could see the screen (although she hasn't had the practice I've had at interpreting the white and black splodges on screen) and could see that she was measuring lots of things.

So a quick clean and wipe up later, she makes lots of little crosses on a piece of paper and tells me the results. 1 at 16mm, 2 at 14mm, 1 at 13mm, 1 and 11mm and several smaller. That all sounds rather huge to me, in my dinky little ovaries. No wonder I'm starting to bloat... (Big fatty).

At this point I'm starting to realise I don't understand what's happening that well anymore. The girls on my forum and my tweeps seem to think that these are good sizes, and the fact that I've been called for my next scan on Wednesday (and not Friday like they initially expected) backs that up. I'm hoping that when I go for my next scan tomorrow they may let me know when egg collection will be. I don't really know what will happen then either. Something to do with a needle, a load of drugs up my rear end, an uncomfortable procedure that I may or may not remember and hopefully a great result at the end of it.

To be honest, at this point, I'm not sure how many details I want to know any more. It all seems a bit more intimidating now. The injections and the mood swings and what not were all something I could contemplate, but the next steps....

Also, I left work early today. I had some pains (bad enough that I couldn't stand up straight for ten minutes) and everyone around me looked so concerned that I think I just panicked. The nurses are happy that these pains are within the realms of normal, and the scan tomorrow will check if everything's ok anyway. No deviations from the plan please! I can't handle that, apparently...

Jennie 1 - 0 Aunt Flo

Well AF didn't show. I did the toilet paper check when I went to the loo first thing, and still nothing. I tried to ring the nurses to see if they needed to cancel, but couldn't get through. So off I went. Hubby and I left at the same time, and I actually got there a whole 5 minutes after him. I made that many daft decisions driving. I queued up where I didn't need to. I consistently swapped to be in the slowest lane. I was just daft and distracted.

So we got to the clinic and the nurse scans me anyway. She said my womb lining was very thin, and I AF was not even thinking about visiting. Off she went to check, and came back to tell us that was fine and we could get started on our next meds. Woop woop! The new drugs are lots more complicated to put together than the first lot, but we've done our first lot. Yeay us!

OH was absolutely hysterical while we were having the scan. I had warned him (as nobody had warned me) that the scan was the same machine as when you're pregnant. I'm sure I had told him it was an internal scan, but obviously not recently. I think he didn't spot me take off my undies (quick as a flash, me), so he was expecting the whole scan through my belly thing. His face when the nurse whipped out the little condom thing, put it on the wand and put a load of gel on it was just a scream. From then on, he was really funny. The poor nurse couldn't get a word in edgeways without him asking what she would have already told him if he hadn't interrupted...

But I'm really pleased. Everything is going to plan again. I've been really pleased with how even and un-psycho I've been this past fortnight, but when I thought things were off schedule earlier I was not a happy bunny. So I guess being fine is entirely dependent on me getting what I want at the moment. Oops.

White Pants Dance

This is me!
Well not exactly. This is what I am wearing in my head as I do my white trousers dance. Aunt Flo is still not here, and I really need her to visit. No knickers and white trousers is surely the way to start my period. If she's not here by Monday we'll probably be put back a week for everything.

I know, we've been waiting three years already, what's another week. But I really don't want to wait another week. Especially as that would mean another week on menopause drugs. At the moment I think I've escaped the psycho, but I'm not sure if I'd be so lucky for a whole extra week.

Hubby and I have mastered the jabs now too. I say we... I haven't done any of my own yet. In fact I have made great arrangements not to do my own. At the end of last week I was on a course in Swansea, and my friends, my work, my union and indeed the Liberty Stadium itself were all party to my plans to keep my drugs in the fridge all day. An old family friend was roped in to jab me on Friday (she threw it in like a dart - amazing!). On the Saturday OH was still away, on 'cricket' tour with work, and I was all set to do my own. In practice though, I couldn't figure out how to pinch my skin, poke it in, hold it steady, push the plunger and remove the needle all with just two hands. My mother (who had previously opted out of offering to inject me) must have suddenly had an adrenalin surge, as she suddenly decided she could do it. Thanks, Mam! So I am still a virgin, as far as actually giving injections goes, but I am b*stard hard at receiving them.

It's my birthday on Sunday! (All my American tweeps and bleeps are having fireworks - just for me!) My 30th in fact. A friend in work (one of those who's been there and understands) has asked me if I'm excited to turn 30. She's right, I am. Most of the things I thought I'd have by 30, I do have. A hubby I love, who loves me, a good home, a good job (and a fantastic fur-baby). I'm blessed and rewarded in many ways. But OH and I are no way complete. And those last pieces of the jigsaw will come in my 30s. I guess we're not exactly sure how yet. I really hope that this ICSI will work, and we will have at least one of those pieces in just over 9 months time. But if not, and if it never works, we will adopt. And even that can happen within a decade. So my 30s will be when it all fits together. One way or another.

I'm having a party tomorrow over mam's house (Thanks Mam! Thanks Dad!) and I'm hoping to invite AF. She's arrived on the Sunday morning after a Saturday night relax many a time, but just to be sure... I hope all my guests are ready to don their whites for the white pants dance!

Wordless Wednesday

First jab....

First jab yesterday. I was crapping it.

So I woke up in the morning and welcomed AF. She doesn't normally get a welcome, but we decided to make an exception so we can get going on our IVF journey. After successfully manoeuvring through the pill without too many problems (except a huge emotional outburst 24 hours before AF arrived, but let's not mention that) I'm feeling a bit more hopeful that I might not go completely mental over the next fortnight.

After spending CD1 NOT enjoying the aches and pains of my first induced period in several years, and skipping a first birthday party (Mae'n ddrwg en i, pawb) hubby made sure he was back in time for my first stabbing at 6pm. 6 should always be after work and before we go out, so seems like the best time. We were both like silly kids. Excited and bloody nervous.

But god it felt good to be actively doing something about our dream.

So OH loaded up the needle, I pinched my under-bellybutton-skin and off we went. No stop. Ok now. No, stop. Out came the frozen mozzarella. That on my belly for 20 seconds should help to numb the area. Then I gave hubby the speech. If I jump, if I say ow, don't stop - just do it, and.....

He did it, I didn't jump, I didn't say ow. It was absolutely fine. Didn't feel the needle go in, didn't feel the suprecur get plunged in, nothing. Maybe it was a fluke, maybe tonight will hurt like a bugger, but for once, something happened the easy way. Just a little something, but it gives me hope.


I also wanted to take the opportunity to speak to all my real life friends about when I get my results. It's going to be a really weird time, whether it's good news or bad.
In the effort to spread the knowledge Joe Public has about infertility, I have waived my right to do this privately. So if we get the pregnancy we're after, I will share this, and this will be before the 12 weeks (or 20 weeks if it's twins) where people would usually feel safe to announce a pregnancy. And we could still lose the baby. So if I do get pregnant, I ask all of you to not get overexcited. And I'll do the same. Honest. Well I'll try at least. I have such a number of online friends that succeeded in their IVF, then lost their miracle. And if this happens to my miracle I won't have private grief, you'll all know about it. Same goes if the IVF fails.

So I don't even know exactly what I'm asking of you all, just follow my lead I guess. It's something that I really am quite scared of. The success or the failure and the fact that I've put this all on show. But this is me, I am as open as they come, and this is the path I have decided is important, so there's no backing out just because it gets a little difficult ahead.

It's really all starting now. I still have my sanity for the moment, but we'll see how long that lasts (share out the crazy, Jen, you'll be fine). I have so many things to think about that I'm just putting one foot in front of another. I don't have the time or ability to think about all the different things that are ahead of me in the next month or two so I'm literally not thinking about them. But at least my reports are finished. And the weather is nice.

And my injection didn't hurt!

Can I have it all?

I am exhausted. And I mean really exhausted.

Tomorrow is my last day taking the pill. AF should arrive Sunday or Monday and then I'll be having my first suprecur injection! I'm quite wound up about it. I'm a big girl, not a big girl's blouse, so I'm sure I'll be fine once I'm doing it, but I'm scared. Especially since other bleeps and tweeps have mentioned it burned. Burned? What's that all about?

I rang the nurses today because I'm nervous. Nurse geordie rang me back and kept calling me chick. "Do I have to make sure I don't drink or anything like that?" "No, chick, you just carry on as normal". It was strangely comforting. I bet there are a million other situations I would resent being called chick, but this wasn't one of them. She made it sound like it was the most usual thing in the world to jab yourself with menopause for a fortnight.

OH and I are still no nearer to knowing what we think about whether we put in one embryo or two. We aren't even sure if they'll let us push to putting in two. I've done a lot of digging into people's personal lives recently if they have twins (big thanks to those of you who set me up with advice from your friends - much appreciated) and the general consensus is:
yes, it's REALLY hard but no, I wouldn't change it for one at a time. There were several stories of pregnancies where mostly it was normal, and a few pregnancy stories where mum was really ill, but was fine in the end. We haven't had a chance to speak to Mrs Blunt-and-to-the-Point (our consultant) about it yet, so maybe we'll feel more decided once she's told us what she thinks.

So add to all that, we've sold our house, we've bought another one (in my home town), we're sorting out our mortgage, I'm finishing my school reports, I need to move classes, move house.....
If the timing for all this goes smoothly, we'll be moving house at the same time I'll be hoping to hear my Big Fat Positive. So if I get a BFN instead, you'll find me sobbing into packing boxes in my brand new 4 bedroom house, wondering why the hell I bothered. Or I could be happy and feel like I really have it all...
And poor hubby has consented to him moving the house, and me going out for the day with a friend and leaving him to it. The poor thing is going to be shouldering much of this move on his own, as we are determined that I'm not to be left with a BFN wondering if things would have been different if I'd just taken it easier. Hopefully we'll find a reasonably priced moving company, and OH can just gaffer for the day.

Is it bad that I'm gearing myself up for failure? I am. I was listening to Maximo Park this morning and I thought about if this IVF doesn't work.
What happens when you lose everything? You just start again....



Please don't make me have to start again.

Good news!

No, I'm not pregnant.

But today has still been a good day. We sold the house! I'm trying not to get mental excited (I don't have the emotional capacity for that sort of extreme anymore anyway) in case it all falls through, but it's good news. And the girl must be keen, because we confirmed it this afternoon, and she's coming to measure up tomorrow! I guess that carpet really is too dirty.

So now we can start looking at houses. Which is the best part. But we told them we were no chain, so it looks as though my parents are going to have the pleasure of our company for a while. And we'd better start looking into storage possibilities....

And also, the nurses got back to me. We're a bit worried about when my unpredictable period will start. So here I am on cycle day 41 and not a hint of PMT in sight. So we're going to take control. Today I am officially back on the pill. What a turn of events... At least it's the mini pill, so that should limit the psycho. I hope. A fortnight on that, I should come on a few days later, then a fortnight of suprecur, followed by a baseline scan and tuition on how to start the second lot of injections, all leading up to egg collection on the first week of the summer holidays. Presumably.

So I'll have to have a few scans and appointments during work, but I won't have to take a fortnight off work. My headteacher is going to love me!

So today is a different day than yesterday. A very different day. Roll on tomorrow!

I wish my brain had a week off

I've spent a lot of this week off thinking. I'm bored of thinking.

I've been reading lots of info about the advantages of single embryo transfer or multiple embryo transfer. (www.oneatatime.org.uk - just the title is soooooooo biased!)
Multiple embryo transfer? Well you could get twins, it's a slightly higher chance of getting at least one baby, and maybe I won't have to go through all of this again.
Single embryo transfer? Well the risks of lots of diseasey things are lower. Apparently, but they don't quantify that very much. The baby is more likely to be born on time rather than early, and I'm less likely to need a c-section. Having one baby at a time is less stressful.

To be honest I find it a bit difficult to think about. My instincts tell me that putting two embryos in is the most failsafe thing to do, but the government is adamant that, providing my embryos are of a decent quality, I should only put in one embryo. And I'm doing all this research and thinking, and I'm not even sure if the consultants will let me put in two anyway. What am I paying £5,000 if they don't do what I want?

I'm waiting for my nurses to phone me and let me know if I need to start taking the pill for a few days to get my period going. June is starting to tick away, and I don't want to miss my window. So I'm trying to chase them to find out what to do and they're avoiding me. Maybe I've managed to annoy them already. That was rather prompt of me.

Also, we've had an offer on the house. Not quite a big enough offer, but a decent one none the less. Definately not so small to be scoffed at, but we're buying a baby here - every grand definately counts (when doesn't it) and I don't want to be not able to afford a baby because we moved into a family sized home.

But the good news is, my poor doggy has had the cone taken off her today, so now she can scratch behind her own ears and she is much happier. So at least the dog is good. I'm just fed up of my brain not having a rest.

Things are looking....

I think I've ovulated! Which is great. So hopefully Aunt Flo will visit in a fortnight, and when AF gets here I can get injecting! This would have me about a week earlier than the nurses had penciled me in for, which I'm sure they can make work.

I realised that in the confusion of taking in all the information at our last appointment I'd got a couple of things wrong. It's a good thing they gave me the paper copy of all the information, because after reading it I figured a few things out. The date I was given (July 5th) is not for Egg collection, but for starting the stimming. And I also (for some unfathomable reason) had assumed that my downregging was tablets, then those tablets stopped and I started the injections. But they're both injections. And also I don't think I stop taking the first one when I start the second one. It'll be a fortnight of 1 injection a day, and a fortnight of 2 injections a day. Bugger! Have I got enough belly for that many injections? (Don't answer that).

I dont' know whether it's the horMOANS starting to gear up for AF, if it's because I didn't have the best week in work, because it's raining again today, because we're still no closer to selling the house or because I couldn't sleep last night thinking about someone that made me cross, but I'm starting to get grumpy. Poor hubby. I do feel for him. Still can't stop though (sorry, love).

I am seriously scared about how nasty I might be on these drugs. A fantastic friend sent me a text: "Let the psycho begin! Seriously, we'll share you round, it'll be fine". Bless her. I think that's the way to approach it. The less each person has to deal with me individually, the less guilty I'll feel about being a pain.

However. I'm going out with a great friend tonight. I've got a week off for the school holidays. We've got a new estate agent coming around this week. Hubby and I have a part-exchange option on the house to follow up. Hopefully the weather will be better tomorrow. And soon is my 30th birthday! So I won't have children before I'm 30, I won't even be pregnant. But on July 4th, 1 day before my pencilled in start-the-second-jabs date, I will be 30. I'm having a lovely party with a load of my music friends. We're going to play guitars, ukeleles, mandolins, djembes, cajons, we're gonna sing and a have a chilled out time. Just what I need to relax me. I guess I'll be the only sober one there though. And best of all, soon I will start being able to actively do something to step closer to my dream of having a family. So things aren't as bad as they seem. in fact, they're looking up!

Good seeds - staying positive

Plant your hope with good seeds,
don't cover yourself with thistle and weeds,
rain down, rain down on me.



This song gears me up when I'm letting myself wallow. What do you do to stay positive?

The longest appointment yet...

Hubby and I have had a looooooooong afternoon. After leaving work early (thanks all, for making it happen!) we got to the appointment 20 minutes early. They they were running 20 minutes late. Then the appointment took over an hour and a half altogether. OH was completely ratty before we went in, but managed not to take the grumpy into the consulting room.

We didn't have our usual consultant, Mrs Blunt-and-to-the-point (who we love), she's such a bigwig doctor, they don't even call her Dr. anymore (I'm not sure how that works, mind). Instead we had Dr. Speedy. Thus named because he talked 20 to the dozen. In a Palestinian accent. But to be fair, no wonder he spoke so quickly, there were multitudes of consent forms. Do we consent to them using our eggs and sperm. Yes. Do we mind them using our left overs for practice? Uh, guess not. What do we want to do with our frozen embryos if either of us die? Um, maybe use them still? God knows.

So then he started telling us that we will have ICSI. Or ICSI/IVF split. Or maybe it'll be a good day and we'll just have IVF. So, we'll play that bit by ear then. Then the drugs, we'll have the long protocol, which is 2 weeks enforced menopause, 2 weeks stimulating lots of lovely eggies, then pick them up, shake them up with some population paste and put them back in.

He then told us that the embryologist will really only want to put in one embryo. I'm strangely disappointed with that. Once I got my head around the risk of multiples I decided it was possibly the better plan, as we don't want an only child, and twins would stop us having to go through this all again. We could be all done, or CHOOSE to try for another pregnancy. But the chance of losing multiples is quite high, so unless each embryo is a lower quality than they were hoping for, they'll just be putting the one in.

Then it was on to the nurse, who took our bloods to check for all the nasty sort of stuff that they wouldn't want us to pass on to a baby. Bless her, after that she stayed talking to us for ages, going over all the things that we'd felt a bit rushed talking through with Dr. Speedy. And Mrs Blunt was free by then, so kept popping by and dropping her opinion in, which was nice. We realised that my really annoying body is not going to allow us to plan the timing of this out very well. The nurses need to be able to book me in a slot, even if it will need to be adjusted. So basically, my period needs to arrive on June 19th please. If anyone can sort that out for me, it would be much appreciated. But the plan is to phone the nurses when my "May" period arrives (if it does) or give them a ring to say that it never did. So I might need to take a couple of weeks of the pill to encourage a bleed. We'll start on the downregging on CD1 then (as day 21 may be ridiculously far away). Ooh, and now OH and I know how to give me an injection. It mostly involves pinching an inch. And we have a sharps box. How odd...

Hope is on the up

It's Monday. That means it's 3 days until my first private appointment. I am really quite excited, even though nothing will happen other than I'll get more information about what will happen over the next few months.
I can't remember the last time I was excited about an appointment. The last time I allowed myself to hope that hubby and I might get what we have wanted for these years. I have also been strangely relaxed the past 2 weeks. I have been able to stay up later, enjoying a drink and a giggle with my friends and having bigger, more sincere smiles than I can remember.

I think this is because I am genuinely allowing myself to get my hopes up. And that is petrifying. I have had a ridiculously low level of hope for a very long time, and that's been deliberate. Hope has always led to a crash, an emotional meltdown and after the first 12 or so I was over them and they had to stop. The only way to do that was to stop expecting anything positive to happen. Trust me, it's served me well.

But here we are, with a hope I can't ignore. The results for ICSI in my clinic (for 2 years ago - that's how it works for some reason) are about 45%. Don't get me wrong, I did maths, I know that's still less than a half chance that it'll work, but that's about 44% more chance than I've felt I've had up till now. So I'm back to hoping, and for the moment it feels good. One of my tweeps says hope>fear. That has only been true for me recently in that I have hope that I will have a family eventually, but now I can allow myself a hope that I might get pregnant this year!

But I can't help but remember that the higher I let myself go, the harder the bump back down to earth.

Before I go- here's a song that means a lot to me. At a time when I was only defining myself by my infertility it reminded me that I am more than that. I get so caught up in my wants and wishes sometimes I forget to live the rest of my life.
"We are not our sorrows, we are not our scars,
We are only human, this is who we are"

Up and down

Well hubby's and my TIC (Treatment Itinerary Consultation?) appointment is coming up. I'm not really sure how I feel at the moment. I'm up and down emotionally. Last week wasn't too bad, the week before I was pretty fragile. I had at least 2 "we're really worried about you" talks from my colleagues and many tears (those were from me). This week? Who knows, it's only Monday.

I'm gearing myself up for a really bad emotional ride in the coming months. I know how badly my body reacts to hormones (mine or external) and I'm not expecting it to be easy. I get told not to pre-empt the nasty, that I might make it worse just by convincing myself of it but I can't help it. I have to keep myself ready for the worst case scenarios because I simply can't deal with anything that comes out of the blue. I really live quite a lot of my life hanging by a thread emotionally speaking. Or at least I have for the past three years. Oh, and I moved house and got married just before that, so maybe for four years...

I had a big conversation with my mother not so long ago where she lamented the relaxed Jennie that I used to be. I also had a conversation with one of my more recent friends (who never knew me pre-ttc) where I kept saying "the things is, I'm pretty laid back...." and he kept protesting. The thing is, I always was laid back. I have always fought my particular fights, but essentially I was laid back. And he protested. Apparently he doesn't think I'm laid back at all.

So in essense, I don't think I'm really in complete control of my personality at the moment. And I'm really scared about what the additional pressures will bring. Those around me know what I'm about to go through, but I can't help but feel I'm going to be intolerable. Poor hubby has already put up with a good deal of crazy from me over the years, and he's about to get a shedload more. I've decided I think I'm going to try acupuncture. Various people online and in RL have tried it and were pleased with the results. That's another thing to add to my nervous list. Gazillions of needles sticking out of me. One blog I read said that it only hurt when the needle went in a tense spot. But I'm permanently tense all over!

So please send me all your chilled vibes.
I think I'm going to need them.

It begins...

So here I am, writing my first blog.

My story so far: Hubby and I met in college, we got together a few years later, and we are now very happily married. We started trying for a family soon after we got married and had to start to accept that it was going to be the long road for us. We got referred to the infertility clinic about 8 months after we started trying, and had our first appointment about another 6 months after that.

One (painful) HSG later and it was discovered I had a blocked fallopian tube. All of this happened when I was 6. Who'd have known it at the time (certainly noone suggested it to me), but my burst appendix as a child meant my tube got all full of scar tissue. Not only did that make it blocked, but it was also leaking into my uterus and helping to thwart our attempts at parenthood. So it had to go, and 6 months ago I had an operation to have it removed. The operation was pretty easy, and a few weeks later I was full health and back to work.

Hubby and I had high hopes after the operation, an obstacle removed and all that, but it seems that my tube wasn't our only problem. My follow up appointment after the op led to me having my day 1-3 bloods taken and my first date with wandy. My bloods were fine, but the internal scan meant the nurse has told me that I also have one mildly polycystic ovary. This really was a kick in the teeth, and I can't say I dealt with the news too well. The main problem being that it could potentially mean that when I undergo fertility treatments I might get ill. Like hospital ill ,with hyperstimulation. So hubby and I, who have been patiently waiting for our number to be called on the NHS waiting list have decided to sod all the waiting and go private.

So we're right there now, our TIC appointment to find out what our treatment will be is in less than a fortnight. It's likely to be ICSI rather than IVF and I'm rather nervous.

I'm trying not to use too many acronyms here, because I've decided to be bold and share this blog with my real life friends. I'm going to post links to my blog on my facebook account and waive the anonymity. Infertility awareness week recently led to me posting links to other people's blogs and videos on my fb account, and I was touched and very pleased by the responses I got. I know not everyone has read them, but I also know that lots have. If I assume that only a small amount of people who have been reading these things have been brave enough to contact me about it, then it's actually quite a number. I am really concerened about how little people talk about infertility, and want to break the trend. So please read my blog. Don't feel that you have to respond, just reading it is enough. If any of you want to contact me about it, then please do.

I also hope I'll get better at blogging as I go along. At the moment, this is a very strange feeling - especially know that real life people will be reading... I'm sure I'll open up more as I get used to it. So here goes...