So as I mentioned in my last post, my latest cycle was a completely natural cycle. The aim was to get one egg (although there was another follicle that looked almost big enough so I was hoping we might get two but the consultant told me it was just too small) — so one egg from no drugs when I got two eggs from loads of drugs, didn’t seem too bad. But then that’s a lot of pressure on that one egg…
So when I started writing this post, it was a bit tongue in cheek, a bit “this is kind of what I’m thinking and I’m aware that it’s bonkers but let’s go with it because it’s quite funny.” I even opened it with the words “This is a bit of a weird post, but it’s something that’s slightly been gnawing away at the back of my mind, despite my sane and rational self telling me that I’m totally mental.”
So as you may recall, the new plan was three rounds of IVF, the first of which helpfully kicked off when I was on holiday — oh the lolz, I can’t even. To start with there’s the fact I’m not drinking. I can get away with the health kick fallacy when I’m dressed — I’m 40 FFS I’ve had years of figuring out how to hide the lumps I hate and flaunt the bumps I don’t — but when I’m in a bikini and my stomach is Continue reading →
That’s the question I’m asking myself today. And y’know, I can totally see that you might think that I should probably have been asking myself that question before now, but I’ve been speaking to the embryologist at the clinic because I wanted to talk to him about PGS (pre-implantation genetic screening), and how it would work.
Sorry — I sort of wrote two posts at the same time — which means there’s bits of information in both but maybe not the whole picture. So as you might have gathered from the previous post a) I’m not done and b) I have a plan, so here’s a few more details on that…
Rather as I predicted, in my own head at least, little victories are often followed by little disappointments. Three days after the eggs were fertilised, only one was suitable quality for being transferred. It was a good embryo, they told me, eight-cells, grade 1 — they don’t get better than that, they told me. But the others, ah yes, the others — 3-cell, 5-cell and 6-cell with a lot of fragmentation.
“When exactly ARE you going to tell Mum and Dad?” my sister asked me the other day when we were discussing my latest scan. “Dunno,” I replied, “I’ll worry about it at the time. I might get you to do it.” (I wasn’t entirely joking.) “You could just send them your blog,” she said. “I’m not sure THAT’s a good idea…”
It’s not that I’m cavalier about it, it’s just that it’s really not a significant concern of mine right now. Partly because I’m not really worried about what they’ll say, but also because it’s SOOOOOOOOOOO far away.
So, you may have heard about what’s happening in the States at the moment with Sofia Vergara — she’s an actress from Modern Family — and her ex, a guy called Nick Loeb. Basically, as far as I can work out, in 2013, they had IVF, and created two embryos which they planned to implant in a surrogate, but subsequently froze. The couple split up and, despite having signed something that said that the embryos could only be used if both of them agreed to it, he’s now trying to bring a legal case against her so that he can use the embryos. She doesn’t want him to.
When people first started talking about this, I was contacted by the Telegraph Continue reading →