It’s not just me any more…

Because I told him. And he was about as amazing about it as I could have hoped he might be. And now writing about all this feels a bit weird, because I’m not just writing about me and something that affects me. I know I’m anonymous, and by extension so is he, but it feels like I don’t have the right to talk about how he reacted in any detail. It’s not just my story any more. Continue reading

The two week wait…

Or, as anyone who’s ever had to wait to find out if they’re pregnant will know: the best way to basically stop time. Two weeks? TWO WEEKS? It’s bloody interminable. And they say the best thing to do is distract yourself. So I did. I went skiing.

I know, I know, but chill the fuck out. I didn’t do anything hardcore, but this was a trip that had been in the diary for months. It was a group trip for a friend’s birthday that was going to include a load of kids and non-skiers and so I knew I could pootle around. I looked into all the advice — eat as you would if you were pregnant, avoid saunas, hot tubs, lifting heavy stuff, and anything that’s going to count as hardcore exercise. Continue reading

The white splodge…

I was so much more emotional about the embryo transfer than I expected to be. I guess it’s because it’s a whole year since the last one and when I think what I’ve been through in that year, and how hopeful and optimistic and excited I was this time last year, it’s hard not to feel that even getting to this point is a culmination of so many things, and yet that there is so much further to go.

I didn’t know the consultant or the nurse, but they were both so lovely, as I lay on a bed with my legs in stirrups and tears pouring down my face. Continue reading

The sixth cycle…

So Saturday eventually rolled around and with it another egg retrieval procedure. My sixth. I’m almost blasé about them now. I kind of love the sedation (although after the last time I made sure to let the anaesthetist know that it would be just good manners to make sure I stayed sedated until after all digits and instruments had been removed from every orifice.)

It was a natural cycle and, despite my late night Cetrotide, it didn’t seem to interfere with the Ovitrelle, because they managed to retrieve one good-looking egg, which of course is cause for celebration because one is better than none. But in this game nothing is really cause for celebration. Or everything is. Because there are so many hurdles. And you have to clear all of them, in succession, to get to where you want to be. Continue reading

Last minute fucking about…

So I came back from my holiday, went for a scan, and then later in the week there was a whole load of last minute fucking about that made me wonder — yet again —  how on earth anyone who doesn’t work for themselves does this.

The call at about 4pm on a Thursday went something like this:

“So your bloods suggest that you might be near ovulating so can you do an ovulation test and then call us back with the results? If you are, you’ll have to have the egg collection tomorrow and we’ll have to work out what time you do the Ovitrelle tonight, and if you’re not then it will be on Saturday and if it’s on Saturday you’ll have to stay up until quarter to 1 tonight and do the Ovitrelle injection, but you also need to do the Cetrotide injection when you get home tonight, oh and start taking the Indomethacin straight away but don’t take it on an empty stomach. Anyway, just call us back when you’ve done the ovulation test.” Continue reading

(That last post might have been a bit dramatic…)

… because obviously I haven’t fucked everything up. As Laura Jane Williams brilliantly put it once “none of us is fucking up like we think we are” — which is invariably true. So I thought I’d better just check in with a post to let you know that that was a low point and I have (for now, however temporarily) ascended from there.

On the one hand, I still haven’t got my period. I mean I’m pretty certain I’m not pregnant, Continue reading

What if I’ve fucked everything up…?

So last time I wrote about the fact that I was taking Microgynon to help get rid of the cysts on my ovaries, and the idea was that I’d stop taking it, have a period/withdrawal bleed a few days after that, go for a scan and start another cycle.

But I haven’t. I stopped taking Microgynon nearly a week ago having taken it for about 5 weeks back to back and although Continue reading

And… pause…

So I started my second cycle, a medicated cycle — oestrogen three times daily from day two to suppress ovulation and build my womb lining, then at a certain point progesterone to mimic the effects of ovulation.

The idea is that you have a scan somewhere between day 10 and day 12 and the endometrium looks thick and then you start on the progesterone, and then five days later they do the transfer (assuming all the eggs/sperm defrost OK and you Continue reading

A very expensive scratch…?

After the biopsy, I was talking to the nurse and I asked whether endometrial scratching was similar. (For those that don’t know — and really, why should you? I certainly didn’t until I embarked on this “journey” — said ironically, OBVS. Also said ironically — an endometrial scratch is a procedure that appears to have some validity in improving IVF outcomes. It is, as it sounds, deliberately scratching the endometrium, or womb lining, which seems to cause an inflammatory response that leads the body to produce various chemicals which may make the endometrium more receptive to an embryo.

Although confusingly it doesn’t help everyone, in fact Continue reading

It’s not ideal…

Don’t panic, nothing’s gone wrong (that I know of anyway), there’s been no major setback or anything (as far as I’m aware) but do read on and the subject of this post will explain itself…

So I had the biopsy and now everything is just on hold while I wait for the results. I’m sure when we first discussed it the consultant told me that it was “like a smear test”. But then just as we were about to go in to theatre, she told me “it is quite painful” — I just laughed and said “well I’ll look forward to that.” And she quite rightly looked at me like I was mental.

I suppose what I meant was Continue reading