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...