Giving birth

After many years of wishing, waiting and wanting, I am now the proud mother of a beautiful little boy. I cannot begin to describe the emotions I feel. He is the most precious thing that I have ever laid my eyes on and I am in complete awe of him and the fact that I grew him.

On the lead up to his birth DH and I prepared as much as we possibly could. To compliment my pregnancy yoga I also practised hypnobirthing. At first this sounds somewhat hippyish, but it is actually all about positive thinking, relaxation exercises and developing a belief and trust in your body. One of the exercises from the book was for us to write down all of our fears about labour/birth/having a child. A few days prior to little bean's birth we individually wrote down all of these fears, then spent a few hours discussing them. We found it incredibly worthwhile as we were able to develop a better understanding of how we could best support each other. DH knew exactly how he should support me during my labour, so when my waters broke at 4.10am on December 18th we knew exactly what to do. The contractions started within 10 minutes and we realised we should phone the birthing centre. They told me to get some more sleep if I could and call back about 9am. I told DH to go back to sleep, but there was no way I could as my contractions were  already too regular and I was simply too alert. After showering I made myself comfortable in the lounge and with every contraction I leant forward over my birthing ball whilst using the breathing techniques I'd learnt. In between contractions I moved around the lounge using a variety methods I'd learnt at yoga. By 6.30am the contractions had grown in intensity and regularity (every 4-5 minutes), but I was still able breathe easily through them. I decided to get DH up and ready for action. By 10am they were now coming every 3-4 minutes and we decided it was time to make our way to the birthing unit. We arrived there at 10.30am and our midwife led us into the large private room where DH swiftly sorted out the music that I'd asked him to put together for labour. The midwife suggested that I go to the toilet and it was at this point that my contractions suddenly changed and I began making deep primal noises with every contraction that I had absolutely no control over! She asked me about pain relief, but I was quite content with my TENS machine. I told her I'd like to use the pool and she said that would be saved until last. She then asked if she could inspect me and was clearly surprised to see that I was already 8cm dilated, labour was progressing quickly. As soon as the pool was filled I stripped off and jumped in and I felt so relaxed. My contractions were incredibly intense, but I wouldn't describe them as painful. The noises I made were astounding, I had no idea that I had the lung capacity to create such sounds, but I ensured that they were the 'positive type noises' that I'd practised at yoga, that would keep my body relaxed. I was offered gas and air and finally decided to try it but didn't like it whilst in the pool (DH on the other hand took every sly opportunity he could to have a quick go). Being in the water and being able to squeeze DH's finger with every contraction was enough for me. I was feeling confident that a baby would soon be popping out into the water. After about 2 hours in the pool, the midwife told me that she was concerned that I was losing too much blood with my contractions and that she would need to call Gloucester and arrange for me to be transferred there. She was so calm about it that I just took it my stride and knew that it was out of my hands. Once out of the pool I soon realised that I needed the gas and air and TENS machine again. I felt so close to the birth that a small part of me thought I could push him out before the paramedics arrived, but they were very efficient and soon arrived with a trolley to wheel me down to the ambulance. 

I did not relish the idea of getting on the trolley and having to lie down. The only positions I was comfortable in was on all fours or squatting. The journey to Gloucester was bumpy and uncomfortable so I zoned out on the gas and air. As soon as we got to the delivery ward the staff started hooking me up to various pieces of equipment. They tried to attach an over the belly monitor for little bean, but it failed so they had to attached it to his scalp. My contractions still felt the same as they had done in Cheltenham, strong and regular. Within 10 minutes DH arrived and it was a relief having him by my side again. At some point an obstetrician came in to examine me. He started talking about all sorts of intervention and offered me an epidural. DH fulfilled his duties well and explained that I didn't want any intervention if it could be avoided. I can't now remember if it was the first or second examination that revealed I had an anterior cervical lip and I was told I was not allowed to push. This was so difficult as every fibre of my body was telling me to push, trying to resist the urge to push was both physically and mentally exhausting. I was told that I'd be examined again in an hour and I remember thinking how could I possibly keep this up for an hour. At the time I didn't fully understand why I couldn't push, but apparently I had to wait for the lip to come away on it's own as pushing was not going to help that, in fact pushing was going to make it swell up making delivery very difficult. After an hour and being inspected again I was told I could push again, so I was straight back on all fours pushing as hard as I could. However after just one contraction I was told 'sorry no pushing for another hour we'll be back to examine you then'. At this point I was starting to get upset as I felt like my labour was going backwards.The best position to control my body's urge to push was on my back, but I felt that was counter-productive to helping the labour progress and encouraging baby to make his way down the birth channel. DH and the midwife did a fantastic job at helping me remain calm and positive.  DH reassured me that every contraction was one closer to meeting our baby, so I was able to go with it. By this time my labour had been at the same point for about 6 hours, the same intensity and frequency of contractions and I was truly exhausted.

After just half an hour everything changed. The obstetrician was back, the team had been watching little bean's heart rate (they could do this without even being in the room) and were growing concerned. His heart rate was dropping too much with every contraction. I heard them talking about intervention and I looked at DH and said I was happy to go with anything now if it was for the safety of our baby. The obstetrician explained that they wanted to give me a spinal tap and deliver little bean by forceps, he said it wouldn't take long as baby was so close. Within 5 minutes DH had his scrubs on  and I was being wheeled into theatre. The spinal tap went in and as I lost all the sensation in my lower body I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. I didn't have to think or concentrate any more and I knew we'd be meeting our baby within minutes. The midwife told me that I was still having contractions but I wouldn't be able to feel them. However they would tell me when a contraction was coming and I had to push just like I had been. This was surreal. I had no idea whether I was actually pushing as I could feel nothing, but after the first contraction his head was out. The cord was wrapped twice around his neck so they had to untangle him. After the next contraction our little bean had become a fully fledged human and had entered the world. He was put on my chest and I cried, laughed and beamed with delight and joy. He was fairly rapidly whisked across to a little table where the paediatrician checked him over, DH went with him and all I could see was him staring at our little baby. We heard a short healthy cry, then he settled straight away. I remained where I was as they had had to give me an episiotomy so I was being stitched up. After a short time DH brought little bean across to me wrapped up in a blanked. We were wheeled into the recovery room where we spent the next few hours just staring at our perfect little baby and enjoying these first special moments as a new family. DH reminded me that we should be skin to skin and I should try him on a breast. I stripped off and he latched on straight away, he did it so naturally and he fed for over an hour. I was so impressed that we managed this without even being shown how to do it. Blissful.

To many people, the labour I went through may have felt like a traumatic ordeal. I've had a few comments of 'you poor thing' 'that must have been so scary' 'oh, how traumatic', but in all honesty it wasn't. I view my labour and birth as a completely positive experience. I really enjoyed my labouring experience in Cheltenham and I am proud of how well I did there, especially how I coped with no pain relief. I had already prepared myself for coping mentally with being transferred to Gloucester, so when it happened it wasn't an issue. There is a lot to be said for the power of positive thought. My natural tendency to put a positive slant on everything and the preparation I did with my yoga and hypnobirthing consolidated the positive mindset that I remained in throughout my whole labouring experience. I need to thank my husband for his wonderful support throughout and of course all of the NHS staff that have helped us to create and deliver this beautiful baby into the world.

Growing a baby: 35 weeks

It is hard to believe that after waiting for this for such a long time, we only have a month to go until little bean is due. I have chosen not to fixate on the date he is due as he could quite easily arrive a few weeks before or after. However, when I said to DH a few days ago that I would technically be full term in 2 weeks, and he could quite easily be born then, we just looked at each other and said 'no, he can't come that early, we're not ready yet!'

Although I have been preparing in so many different ways, somehow I still don't feel ready. Perhaps you never do. As with many things, I have been looking at a lot of elements of pregnancy, labour, childbirth and raising a child as a sequence of processes and almost forgetting how emotionally connected I am/will be to all of these things. Over the past month we have started investing a lot of time into the preparation for birth. We do at least now know how to change a nappy and how to dress a baby, courtesy of our NCT course. 

Until a few months ago I was completely unaware of the options for birthing. When I was asked by friends if I was intending to have a consultant led or midwifery led birth, I had no idea what they were talking about. So I began to research. I had always assumed that I would just go along with whatever the professionals told me, but having looked into my options I soon realised that I had developed a clear idea of the birth I wanted. We have the option of going to Cheltenham or Gloucester. Cheltenham is smaller and is a birthing unit only (the only pain relief they can offer is a birthing pool and gas and air), whereas Gloucester is much bigger with a birthing unit as well as a delivery ward. A few days ago we visited the Cheltenham birthing unit and loved it, I know that is where I want to have my baby. I now have this slightly romanticised image of what giving birth will be like. I want to have a water birth with as little intervention as possible, my heart is already set on the idea. I am trying really hard not to get too fixated on this though. I have to keep telling myself that anything could happen and I may have no say it what happens if medical intervention is necessary. I need to know that I can accept any outcome and if that means being transferred in an ambulance to Gloucester, then so be it. 

I went through that short negative thought process of feeling like my body was failing me when I got the rib pain (which by the way is far better than it was due to weekly chiropractic treatment and my positive mindset). I have to be very mindful that I don't do that if I don't have the birth I am hoping for. Knowing how pragmatic I am though, I believe I will be fine. Sometimes I am reminded that the conception of my baby was in no way natural, so why should I assume that the delivery of this baby will be any different? At the end of the day they essential thing is that little bean is delivered safely by whatever means necessary.

Even so, I am doing everything in my power to try and ensure I have the labour and birth I am hoping for. The best thing I have chosen to do antenatally is pregnancy yoga. I began this at 27 weeks and it is wonderful. I had never been to yoga before and didn't really know what to expect from it, but a few friends recommended I try it. I found a class only a mile from where I live (mini moments) but was more attracted to this class because the teacher is not a 'yogi', but is a doula and clearly has a wealth of knowledge about labour and birthing. The teacher somehow manages to teach the class with a perfect balance of humour, emotion, bonding, intimacy, physicality, knowledge and relaxation. She does it in such a way that the group feels surprisingly comfortable and at ease with, not only each other but also ourselves, our own bodies and the amazing process that is happening inside all of us. If I had been told prior to my first session that I would be holding hands with with people I'd never met, repeating mantras aloud and making deep groaning primeval noises, I may have run a mile. But I have never felt more relaxed with people I have only just met. Every session I am learning more and more about how to prepare my body for labour and how to help my labour progress easily. The classes have given me the confidence to believe in my body and my baby. I genuinely have no fear about giving birth and I am actually looking forward to it. As I have mentioned in previous posts I am a strong believer in positive thinking, my pregnancy yoga reaffirms this view and has made feel  empowered as I embark on the final stages of pregnancy. 

Growing a baby: 30 weeks

I have dreamt of being pregnant for such a long time and have relished the thought of a baby growing inside me for years. I have always assumed that I would find pregnancy easy and I have often wondered why so many people seem to find it hard. Over the past five or six weeks however I have realised and begun to accept that growing a human is no mean feat. It is clear that what you experience during pregnancy, both physically and mentally, varies hugely from one person to another. My dream of a pain free and easy pregnancy has been somewhat shattered over the past month.

Upon returning to work after the six week summer holidays I was feeling amazing. I loved answering everyone's questions of how was I doing with a 'Yeah, I feel great, I love being pregnant!' Within a week of the term starting I began experiencing an uncomfortable rib pain. Initially I only felt the pain whilst I was in a normal sitting position, which was usually at my desk or driving. Thankfully as a PE teacher being on my feet and moving around seemed to prevent the pain. When I mentioned this to my midwife at my 28 week appointment she was not concerned. It's nothing to worry about she told me, just your uterus expanding and causing tenderness to your ribs. I wasn't worried though, I was in pain, but at that point only around 2-4 hours per day. A few days later as I was reaching for a drink, I felt a twang and it was like I was being stabbed in the chest. I froze for about 10 seconds and the pain eased off. Since then the pain I've been experiencing is almost unbearable. Every day I can feel a definite movement in my ribs, which causes a sharp shooting pain to radiate along the line of the rib around to my back. I would describe it as a white hot pain. Most days I am in pain for about 8-10 hours and it is quite simply horrible. Thankfully at weekends when I can avoid sitting (I lie or sit very reclined on the sofa instead) and driving I don't get much pain at all. I was convinced that this was no longer just a typical pregnancy symptom and must be an injury, I actually thought that I had dislocated a rib.

As a result of all this, last week I had my first wobble of pregnancy. Everyone I mentioned the rib pain to just dismissed it, so I tried to do the same. But I came to a point last week where it just got too much for me. The thoughts and feelings I had been trying to dismiss and ignore came gushing out to DH with a flood of tears too. I have desperately wanted to enjoy every stage of my pregnancy and I realised that I wasn't. I felt like my body was letting me down. I felt like I was failing. I'm not one to moan, in fact I fundamentally disagree with moaning, it achieves nothing. I didn't and don't want sympathy from anyone (I'm the worst person at giving sympathy so I shouldn't expect it from others!), I just want someone to tell me how to fix this problem. Realising that I was not happily enjoying my pregnancy, I became upset with myself. The pain was beginning to affect me mentally now, something which I am not used to. As I've mentioned before I don't tend to get stressed and usually just take things in my stride. I didn't want to have any negative feelings towards my pregnancy, something needed to change. I guess I'm also worried that if I'm finding this stage hard I'm going to find everything hard, I'm not going to breeze through motherhood like I naively expected. The little bubble that I've been floating along in is slowly beginning to deflate.

My midwife told me to complete a referral for physiotherapy, I was impressed with how quickly I received an appointment. So earlier this week I went along for my session, but was slightly disappointed to find it was a group session with other pregnant women who were experiencing a range of ailments. We were shown a variety of sitting and lying positions and exercises that might help us. I wasn't told anything new though, everything we went through I had already learnt at pregnancy yoga. The principle of the group session was good though; they try to get everyone seen early, then if the advice doesn't work you book in for a 1-1 appointment. The pain has been getting worse every day, so yesterday I decided to book in to see my regular chiropractor (rather than wait for a physio appointment), who is fantastic. She has been treating me for  a few years for a variety of sports related injuries. After feeling my ribs she confirmed my suspicions that I have an injury. I am suffering from costochondritis, which is essentially inflammation of the joint and cartilage where the ribs attach to the sternum, potentially torn cartilage too which is the movement I can feel. This is not a pregnancy condition, anyone can get it, although for me it has clearly been caused by pregnancy.

Confirmation that I have an injury as opposed to just another pregnancy symptom is making it easier for me to deal with. I can now see the pain as being separate to the pregnancy, which has alleviated the negative feelings I've been having. I'm still in just as much pain and I may just have to put up with that until little bean is born, but I now feel that I can do that without beating myself up. I love my bump and I love the way I look. Little bean is getting more and more active and I cherish that connection I feel when he moves. Despite my wobble, my mindset has not changed, I know I will remain positive throughout the rest of my pregnancy.

Naivety of an expectant mother

At 27 weeks the prospect of becoming a mother is getting closer to a reality. I have realised that I really know nothing about being a parent to a newborn. I don't even know how to change a nappy! At our re-scan at 21 weeks we asked the sonographer if she could write down the gender, for us to then look at later if we wished. She told us she wasn't allowed, although wasn't sure of the reason. Little bean was still being awkward, but she managed to get all the readings she needed. At the end of the scan, DH finally decided that we couldn't not know.The sonographer focused in on the little bean's nether regions and clear as anything we could see a little willy there. Although I genuinely did not have a preference, I was so relieved for DH's sake. A boy. We're going to have a son!

                                                  21 weeks and 2 days - a slightly freaky skeletal picture!

Over the past month I have begun wondering what our little boy will be like and what kind of parents we will be. DH and I both have a fairly clear idea about the behaviour we expect in a child and the morals and values we want to bring him up with. It's easy for us at the moment, we're not yet parents. We have this image of a well behaved little boy who is polite, well mannered and a pleasure to be with. Surely that's not so hard to achieve. I'm not going to lie, I know I look at friends, family and strangers with children and I make snap judgements about their parenting methods. I'm sure we all do, but most would never admit to it. DH and I have had lengthy discussions about what we will and won't do, even though so many say how much harder that is to do once you actually are a parent.

I think once our child as it a stage where he understands language and the environment around him, we can start to in-still the discipline and behaviour we expect. I know what I expect a toddler to be like. I imagine the principles of raising children are very similar to those of teaching and training a dog. When I started my career in teaching, I experienced first-hand where taking the easy option, being too soft and failing to follow through with threats leads you, and it's not pretty. It is a mammoth struggle to crawl back to where you need and want to be, I do not want to be in that position with my own child. We have learnt a lot from the mistakes we made with our dog. The poor behaviour he exhibits is down to us. He is a product of us, and although it's taken a while, he has become the most wonderful dog because of us (not perfect, but almost there). At the moment we have it all sussed out, we are the perfect parents. It will be interesting to read this in a year's time and see what I think then.

But before I can apply any of this thinking I will have a newborn baby. Is there really any way of preparing for this? From what I've seen everyone has different experiences and all babies are different. Some find the transition from the womb to the outside world easy, whereas others seem to really struggle with it. Is this down to how the mother is during pregnancy, is it the simple nature and character of that baby, is it the experiences it starts having as soon as it enters the world? How much is nature and how much is nurture? I don't think anyone knows for sure. I for one am happy to look at it all through my rose-tinted glasses. I'm choosing to believe that being relaxed and stress free will help with the birth of my child and the subsequent months, I'm planning to start pregnancy yoga, which I hope will also help. Without meaning to sound arrogant, I find life easy. Some people seem to make an ordeal out of everything and get enveloped in the stress and difficulty of living. I don't. That's not to say I have had an easy life, without stress or trauma, far from it, but I seem to have developed a way of dealing with it where I can remain calm and balanced. I've mentioned before how I live by the slightly clichéd motto of 'everything happens for a reason'. This truly does help me. When my mum died suddenly from a severe brain haemorrhage at the age of 49 (I was 16) I searched for a reason. She had been undergoing treatment for breast cancer at the time, so I found solace in the fact that she died without pain and did not have to suffer a long illness.

I am positive in everything that I do, I seldom feel the signs of mental stress, and I hope this mindset remains once we have our baby. I have been told, many times, how hard being a parent is, how difficult and exhausting those first few months are. But what good is telling me that going to do? Just because you know it will be hard and you will be sleep deprived can't actually make it any easier. I cannot prepare for that, so I am quite content to bimble along in my naive little bubble of what I think motherhood will be, it's a happy place to be.

Growing a baby - 21weeks

Since my 12 week scan the time his simply flown by. I am now 21 weeks and finally have a proper bump, which is recognisable as a baby bump as opposed to the slightly tubby look I had earlier. Over the past week I have begun to feel little bean's movements. I wasn't sure at first if that's what it definitely was, but how else can you explain a strange pulsing within your belly? I regularly stare at my belly and find myself absent mindedly stroking it. People laugh at me when I say I can't wait for it to be a big beach ball, but truly I can't. Despite my 'little' ordeal at 8 weeks I am now having a wonderful pregnancy. The surgery and all the pain it caused seems so long ago now that I almost feel like it happened to someone else. I am perfectly healthy, and it seems that little bean is too. I have not experienced a single pregnancy symptom (aside from constantly needing to pee) and now that I have begun exercising again I feel fantastic. The site of the scar still feels numb and occasionally painful to touch, but it doesn't bother me any longer.

At the 12 week scan the sonographer was unable to complete the nuchal fold test (for Downs' Syndrome) due to little bean being awkward and refusing to get in the right position. Before going in for the scan I explained the purpose of the test to DH and then started wondering if I really wanted to know the results of such a test. To be faced with having to make a decision about your unborn baby's future must be horrendous. The sheer thought of it made me cry. I was given an additional scan at 16 weeks, just for reassurance because of what I had been through. At this appointment I was also given a blood test to test for Down's. The result would be posted within 10 days. When the letter arrived I was scared of opening it, but knew I had to do it. The result of the test showed a 1 in 1775 chance of Down's, so no further investigations. Another relief. DH was unable to make this appointment, so when the sonographer asked if I wanted to know what I was having I was caught off guard. I was surprised that she could tell the gender this early on, but she said it was clear as day. Obviously there was no way I could find out without DH there, but just the fact that it was clear brought a tear my eye. I want to give DH some control over what is happening, so he is going to decide whether we find out or not. I've always thought that I'd want a surprise, but I now seem to be leaning towards finding out. I know DH is more scared of having a baby girl, so part of me thinks that he would benefit from finding out so that he can better prepare himself mentally, if that is even possible! Perhaps he can also start connecting with the baby if he knows whether he is having a son or daughter.

                                                                                  21 weeks

Finally at 18 weeks, 8 weeks after my surgery I was allowed to start exercising again. I'm not stupid enough to try anything that I was doing before, but light CV and weights will be fine. I joined DH for our regular PT session, which was basically a light weights session for me and a heavy weights session for him. It felt so good to feel my muscles working properly again. At 19 weeks we spent 10 days touring in our camper around Scotland and the Lakes, the sort of holiday that will be quite difficult with a baby, so possibly our last chance to do it for a while. I was pleased that I managed the hike to the top of Ben Lomond (974m!), I needed more rests than I usually would, but I still felt fairly fit. 

We had our '20 week' scan this morning, although I am actually 21 weeks. After much consideration, DH decided that we would ask the sonographer to write the gender down on a piece of paper and seal it in an envelope, that we way we can decide at a later date if we wish. However, little bean was choosing to be very awkward again. With it's head tucked down and lying face down the sonogrpaher found it difficult to get all the readings she needed. It was impossible to tell the gender. Lots of prodding and tilting the bed up did not succeed in getting the stubborn bean to move. Everything the sonographer did see was fine and she has no concerns about anything, but we will need another scan in the next 2 weeks to complete all the readings and measurements. We didn't get any scan pictures as you couldn't really see all that much. Although I feel slightly disappointed not to see more or get the choice about finding out the gender, I am so grateful that little bean appears to be growing well and looking healthy. What more could I want at this stage.

http://www.twinmummyanddaddy.com/p/binky-linky.html

2 weeks post op

In the two weeks that have passed since my surgery, I have had two highlights; the scans of our little bean. The positive I have gleaned from my experiences over the past month is the fact that I am seeing so many scans of our little bean. Upon returning home from hospital I was incapable of pretty much anything for the first few days. I soon surrendered and accepted that my family were there to do everything for me, which even included my mother-in-law drying me after a shower and putting my socks on! A week after the surgery I was beginning to get cabin fever and was grateful for my hospital appointment at the early pregnancy unit. When I saw the image of little bean this time I didn't care that the receptionist hadn't signed me in properly and we had ended up waiting for over 2 hours. I didn't care that as the sonographer pressed the scanner into my belly I winced with pain, it was all more than worth it. Our little bean had grown proper arms and legs and I was amazed to see how active it was. It was like a little frog kicking it's legs and arms as it pushed against against the sides of my womb. I laughed and cried at the same time. Little bean had grown a lot and was now measuring 4.8cm.

                                                          11 weeks and 1 day
                               (we're not concerned that little bean looks more like an alien in this picture!)

The next few days I was hit with sheer boredom. I had regained all my energy and didn't need rest during the day, although I was still in too much pain to walk for more then about 10 minutes. So I was in a vicious circle. Desperate to do exercise or some form of physical activity, but pretty much restricted to the confines of our home. The dog didn't seem to understand that I wasn't able to take him for walks, at 35kg there was no way I could risk him tugging me on the lead. As I've mentioned before, sport and exercise are a huge part of my life. It has now been four weeks since I've done any exercise and it is killing me. I always thought that I would remain equally active throughout my pregnancy and I know I'm going to get a shock when I return to training and feel how much fitness I have lost. I decided to weigh myself and was expecting to have gained weight due to the lack of activity. I had lost 10 pounds. Now, a lot of people would be quite happy about this, but for me I know that it is pure muscle I have lost, muscle that I have spent months training to gain to improve my strength and endurance. I for one am gutted about this weight loss. Considering the hospital signed me off for up to 6 weeks, I imagine it will be the same amount of time before I can really do anything active. I know I will need to have low expectations and will have to gradually reintroduce exercise into my life. As a result of all this I am now suffering from insomnia, I'm simply not doing enough to get tired. I've made the decision to learn how to meditate, something I have tried on numerous occasions but never succeeded. I have plenty of time to work on it though.

Today I had my 12 week scan, little bean was measuring 5.8cm. Finally I can breathe a sigh of relief at reaching this stage. I am so excited about sharing our news with all our friends now. It no longer needs to be a secret. We are having a baby! Wow, what an incredibly exciting, life-changing, life affirming and somewhat terrifying prospect!

                                                        12 weeks and 1 day

A turbulent time

At 8 weeks I had still not really experienced any morning sickness or other symptoms usually associated with early pregnancy, surely it's going to hit me soon. The following day at work I felt a little ill throughout the day. I had a slight pain in my side and thought that the pregnancy symptoms were beginning to take hold. On my drive home the pain in my side suddenly got worse, so much so that I started screaming out in pain - I got a preview of what I might sound like in labour, it is not a pretty noise! About a mile from home I realised I was going to be sick and had to pull over at the side of the road to throw up. I managed to haul myself back into the car and get home. I ran upstairs where I carried on vomiting, groaning and writhing around with the severe abdominal pains I was experiencing. Whatever was happening was not normal. DH phoned the NHS direct line where they managed to get us a doctors appointment at Cheltenham hospital almost straight away. I could barely talk or walk at this point. In the surgery I continued groaning in pain trying to find the least uncomfortable position, which included going on all fours, curled in a foetal position on the bed and hunched over the chair. Without any warning I vomited all over the floor and it just kept coming. The doctor was clearly concerned. She got on the phone to the gynaecology team at Gloucester Royal Hospital and arranged for me to be admitted there. Unfortunately this meant I would have to endure a 15 minute journey to Gloucester and I had still not been given any pain relief, I just wanted to be put to sleep. I have never been in so much discomfort in my life.

The simple journey to Gloucester became a proper ordeal. We had been instructed to go to A&E (which neither of us had ever been to, so we weren't entirely sure where it was). DH dutifully followed the signs, which just stopped as we got close to the hospital. We ended up at a level crossing for 20 minutes waiting for some unbearably slow trains to trundle past. By this point I was curled up on the back seat. DH was convinced we were in the wrong place, so made the right decision to turn around and eventually we found A&E (when DH checked the next day it turned out the main sign to A&E had been bent and was pointing in the wrong direction!). Luckily we found a wheelchair, as I was now incapable of moving. DH wheeled me in and within 5 minutes we were being tended to by a team of nurses and doctors. The next part is all a bit of a blur, but I know that quite early on an internal examination was done and we were told that I was not having a miscarriage. Somehow I felt intuitively that the baby was OK and hadn't really got too scared about that. I was put on a drip and was pumped full of morphine and anti-sickness drugs, this is where my memory blurs as I became very drowsy and I was able to slip in and out of consciousness. I was vagueley aware of being wheeled to a ward where DH then had to leave and make his way home.

I awoke in the morning feeling much better. The pain was far milder and not constant as it had been. I was very pleased to see the two gynaecologists (Mrs Reddy and Dr Borase) who had done my laparoscopy last year and both worked with the Cotswold Fertility Unit (one was the lead consultant there). They thought that the cyst (that had been spotted in my 6 week scan) was causing problems, potentially twisting my ovary and informed me that an ultrasound scan would reveal what was going on. Later that afternoon I got to see my little bean again, it now measured 19mm and again the heart beat was clear to see. The cyst had grown to 8cm. The sonographer wrote a report that the consultants discussed with me back on the ward. They weren't concerned, although the cyst was big, the blood flow to my ovary was fine and clearly my pain had subsided. They decided to keep me in another night and let me home in the morning.

                                                         8 weeks and 2 days

That night however I experienced a lot of side pain again. The next morning a different consultant spoke to me and concluded that the ovary was twisting and untwisting which was why I was getting the pain on and off. "We can operate, but it is up to you. With any surgery at this stage in a pregnancy there will be a risk to the baby. However we cannot quantify this and if you did miscarry we would never know if it was due to the surgery or whether it was going to happen anyway. The operation would not go near the gestational sac, so the risk should be minimal, we just cannot give any guarantees". I hated the pressure of having to make this decision. Eventually I said I would go for it, I knew I couldn't cope with the ongoing pain. The consultant explained that being as it was not a scheduled operation it would be done as an emergency op, however, clearly if there were life threatening emergencies that came in they would take priority. Which is exactly what happened. The decision was taken away from me. Later that evening I was told that they would not be able to fit me in that night so I would be rescheduled for the morning. If it turned out I didn't get pain during the night I would not have to have the operation. I was adamant that I would have a good night. I fought the pain and in my stubborn efforts I barely got any pain during the night. The next morning the consultants were happy to let me home with a small package of painkillers. They were content that the cyst and ovary had righted themselves and weren't causing problems any more. 

I was signed off work for the week and by Friday I was feeling normal again. I happily went on a long dog walk on Saturday and had got my appetite back. I was back to work as normal on Monday feeling right as rain! I had a follow up appointment which involved another scan. What a treat, this time at 9 weeks 5 days little bean was starting to look like a baby. The cyst was still as big, but the consultant gynaecologist was happy that it was causing no issues. It will eventually go away on its own she told me. It was all over.

                                                           9 weeks and 5 days

                                     The black circle to the left is the edge of the cyst

Except it wasn't all over. After only 2 days back at work the symptoms returned. At 11.30 on Tuesday night I started experiencing the pain in my right-hand side. I was determined that it was not serious. May be I'm just constipated I said to DH. He rallied around me getting me water and laxatives and rubbing my back, but it was clear that he was preparing for a trip to hospital. I on the other hand was resolute that the pain would go if only I could find the right position. The vomiting started at about 12.30am and didn't stop. My stomach was empty and I just kept on retching. At 2am I gave in. DH phoned the direct number to the gynaecology ward, they told us to go straight to A&E. We followed a similar process to the first admission. A drip, lots of morphine, but this time was worse. Despite the amount of morphine being pumped into me the pain was still there and I was wide awake. The ward was full, so I had to stay in A&E. At 5am I told DH to go home, there was nothing more he could do. I continued to throw up bile, groan and writhe around. The nurses were sympathetic, I had maxed out on all the drugs and they couldn't give me anything else. 

Mid-morning a bed was freed up and I was taken up to the now familiar gynaecology ward. I was left to rest for a while before the consultant that I'd seen on Monday came and spoke to me. Already the pain was subsiding and I was feeling better. She didn't think it was necessary for another scanned being as I had only had one 2 days previously. She came up with the same conclusion, it must be twisting and untwisting. I was told by a number of consultants that they really didn't want to operate until I was at least 12 weeks due to the risk. Hopefully if I did get pain again I would be able to cope with it until I'd reached the 12 week milestone. Again they decided to keep me overnight and planned to send me home the following day. I slept well that night and woke up feeling very little pain. Although a slightly new and different pain had begun. When the 2 consultants came for a mid-morning chat I explained that I was feeling a completely different type of pain that was sharper and hurt at the point where my belly was prodded. Whereas before it didn't matter where I was prodded the pain was always felt in the same spot. I asked if it was perhaps just muscular pain from all the vomiting I had done the previous day. They were honest and said they weren't sure. 

As the day progressed the pain in my belly became more and more severe. Mid-afternoon a senior consultant came for a prod. It hurt so much that I cried (and I pride myself on not being a wuss!). It was obvious something new had happened and the doctors were concerned. They explained that it was more likely that I was suffering from an ovarian torsion and that surgery was likely. I was anxious and started crying at the prospect of an operation. I was taken almost immediately for a scan. The same sonographer that had seen me 2 weeks previously was scanning me again. She focused in on little bean first, every time I see it my heart flutters and I feel an overwhelming sense of relief. She then looked at the cyst. "This is very different to what it was 2 weeks ago, there has been a lot of bleeding". She probed around trying to find evidence of any blood supply to my right ovary, there was none. She also found a lot of blood had leaked around around the ovary. The report was printed and I was wheeled back up to the ward. The consultants were at my bedside within 10 minutes. We don't have any other option now but to operate tonight they explained: It looks like the cyst has caused the right ovary to twist which has cut off the blood supply. If we leave it it will make you very ill, could get infected and will cause a greater risk to your baby then if we operate. You are the main priority they explained, and obviously your baby is the second priority. Hopefully it will just be the cyst we remove, but if the ovary is dead we will have to remove that too. I understood everything they told me. As they walked away I allowed myself to become vulnerable and cried. When DH arrived for visiting hours I cried as soon as he hugged me. I was scared. I was in agony. He was supportive, practical and logical and gave me confidence in what the doctors were doing. 

                                                         10 weeks and 1 day

I was taken down to theatre at 9.30pm, DH had already had to leave as visiting hours had closed. The friendly anaesthetists talked me through what they were doing as I stared at the painting on the ceiling, the next thing I knew I was lying in the recovery room. A nurse sat by my side as I tried to make my eyes work. I felt a searing pain in the lower part of my belly. I was surprised at how sore it was. She gave me as much morphine as I was allowed. I felt like I was choking on something. My uvula had been damaged as they had put the breathing tube down my throat and was swollen to about 3 times the size, making it incredibly uncomfortable. The nurse asked me about my pregnancy, "is it OK I asked?" she didn't know, the surgeons would come to see me in the morning and explain what they had done. She told me to try and get some sleep, but I was wide awake. They took me back to my ward at around midnight, where I then spent most of the night wondering what they had done in the operation and whether my baby was OK. Although I knew the surgeons wouldn't actually know if the baby had been affected, only an ultrasound scan would show this.

The next morning a jolly surgeon came to see me along with Dr Borase, who it had turn out had done my operation. They told me that it was a lot worse than they had been expecting. The cyst had twisted the ovary four times, turning it black. There was no chance of saving the it, but they assured me my left ovary was not affected. The 2 inch incision they had made was nowhere near big enough to get the bulging cyst out so they had to extend it to almost 6 inches, no wonder it was so sore! Every slight movement sent the same searing pain through my abdomen. A trip the toilet was a 15 minute ordeal and I dreaded every time I felt the sensation of needing to go. I have never experienced such dependence where you can't even sit up without assistance. I was booked in for a scan with the ultrasound department to check the progress of my baby, hopefully it would be done within a few hours. Ten minutes later Dr Borase returned. The nurse said I was getting special treatment. Dr Borase had finished his shift, but I think he felt so involved with what was happening with me, that he had taken it upon himself to take me straight down to the maternity ward where he could do the scan himself. I tentatively lay down on the bed and as tenderly as possible he moved the ultrasound scanner over my belly. Because he couldn't press hard we couldn't see the image that clearly. I could make out the black circle which contained little bean inside, but I couldn't see it pulsating as I had before. He turned on the microphone and I heard the most beautiful sound of my baby's heart beating. I burst into tears and he gently squeezed my hand. I'm even crying now as a write this. I was overwhelmed to discover how emotionally attached I already was to this little baby bean.

After spending one more night in hospital the staff, myself and DH decided that I was well enough to go home and recover in the comfort of my own surroundings. I have been signed off work for six weeks, but I am seriously hoping I won't take that long to recover. I had forgotten how comfortable our sofa is and how comforting it is having our dog (our other baby) snuggled on the floor next to me resting his head upon my legs and licking my hand affectionately. It has been a testing few weeks, but I am now looking forward to resting and hopefully enjoying the next stages my pregnancy.

6 week scan

Having seen the positive pregnancy test I spent the next three weeks counting down the days until my six week scan. We had been so open with all of our friends and family about going through IVF  that we had not considered how we would feel about sharing the results of the pregnancy test. I happily told a few close friends ans family, but soon realised that I simply wasn't comfortable with being congratulated and everyone getting excited about it. I still didn't believe it was real and I hadn't yet allowed myself to get excited, so it simply seemed wrong for others to. I decided to send a big group message on facebook requesting that we would prefer it if no one asked us about the IVF treatment. I was so glad I did this. Our friends respected our wishes and although I hadn't hinted either way whether it had been successful, I got the feeling that a fair few of our friends had assumed that it had not worked. I felt like the pressure was off.

The day of the six week scan finally came. It happened to fall during a free period at work, so I nipped out of school without anyone having any idea that I'd even gone anywhere. DH met me there, and a bubbly nurse showed us into one of the rooms. It didn't take her long to show us the small black circle with a little white bean laying inside. The first image of our baby. I was amazed when she zoomed in and the whole thing was pulsating, that's it's heart beat, she confirmed. It measured just 4mm and already it had a heart beat - just incredible. At the same time, she told us that I had a rather large cyst on my right ovary, 5cm. She actually sounded rather impressed by it; "wow, that is a corker of a cyst, it's nothing to worry about, cysts are very normal during pregnancy and actually support the growing baby, but I have never seen one this big!"

                                                          6 weeks and 5 days

I began to relax in the knowledge that there really was something in there. I had almost convinced myself that the scan would reveal an empty sac. I was still reserved with my excitement, but DH and I began talking a bit more openly about the logistics and practicalities of having a baby. I seemed to be quite lucky with the lack of usual pregnancy symptoms. The only thing I was really suffering with was trapped wind and constipation, which resulted in quite a bloated belly, I already looked about 15 weeks pregnant and much as I am excited about having a bump it was disappointing knowing that it was just bloating. However, if this is the only issue I have to deal with, then I shall count myself lucky.

                                        

IVF - the 2ww is over

Having had 10 eggs collected and all 10 fertilising, we were waiting for the Saturday morning phone call to inform us of how well they were developing and whether the embryo transfer would be that day or Monday. I was desperately hoping for Monday as this would mean they were stronger (it also meant we would still be able to go away on our planned weekend trip to the Peaks with all our friends!). We got the call at 8.15am and were told that the transfer was booked for midday on Monday, amazingly all 10 were still developing well and hopefully we would have some good blastocysts to choose from come Monday.

We spent a large part of the weekend discussing how many blastocysts to have transferred. Throughout the process we have been strongly advised that on a day 3 embryo transfer you should go for two (as they have less chance of surviving), but on a day 5 you should only have one, due to the high risk of multiple pregnancy. Ultimately though, it would be our decision, regardless of what we were told. I was surprised when DH started the discussion with the pros of having two transferred. In my mind I had just assumed we'd follow the advice of the doctors. The clinic does not promote multiple pregnancies, apparently there are lots of risks to the babies and mother. It turned out that DH had done a lot of research and he said the 'increased risks' were so minimal anyway that they were irrelevant. He said that statistics are always manipulated to make the point that you want and in this case the NHS wouldn't want multiple births as there would be far more after care needed which would cost more money etc. I think I have mentioned before how good DH is at debating, so of course he had completely changed my mind and I was fairly sure we would go for two. Even when I told him there would be a chance of triplets or at least twins, he didn't appear deterred. As far as he was concerned it would be easier to have two babies in one go, than one now and another in a couple of years. I love the idea of twins, although I know how hard that would be. Over the course of the weekend my mind must have changed about ten times. One of my friends (who is pregnant with her second) almost put me off having any transferred altogether, with her talk of how exhausting it is and how difficult it is with a dog too and how you have no time to even go to the toilet let alone have any sort of life. Whilst another friend told me it's easy as long as you relax and you enjoy it.

On our journey to the clinic on Monday morning I still hadn't decided what to do. DH said it would be my decision, not his. Eventually I came to the conclusion that if we were told we had one blastocysts that was better quality then all the others, then we'd go for one, if not we'd have two. Our previous visit to the clinic had been very early and we had been the only people there. The waiting room on this occasion was full of awkward looking couples having stilted conversations. There was a large mirror, which had now become a window into the laboratory. I was fascinated and felt like a small child at an aquarium, staring at the embryologists as they studied things under their microscopes. When it was our turn we were led into a sterile room, just off the main lab. The embryologist explained that three of our ten had made it to the blastocyst stage. One was very good quality and the other two were good. I asked what grade they were, a 4BB+ and the other two were 3BB (not that I really understood the grading system). She said that she was very fussy with embryos and that mine were very good, if we put two in, there would be an incredibly high chance of a multiple pregnancy. I stuck to the decision I had made in the car and asked to have the best one transferred and the other two frozen. I was then asked to get into the familiar dignified position of legs in the stirrups with my bottom half stripped off and covered with a small sheet. This time I had an over the belly ultrasound scan. They talked us through the whole procedure as we watched it on the monitor. The thin white line we could see was the catheter through which the embryo would be inserted. What looked like a mini explosion at the end of this white line was the embryo with the fluid being injected. And that was it. Probably one of the strangest experiences of my life. If the embryo was going to implant it would do so within the next 24 hours. We were given a pregnancy test and instructed when to use it.

So now came the dreaded two week wait that so many people had said was the most stressful period of the treatment. I was so busy at work the first week that I barely thought about it. The second week was the start of the Easter holidays, but I still managed to busy myself with school work, gardening, dog walking and genuinely did not feel any stress. Not being allowed to exercise properly I found that I was incredibly restless and struggled to sleep properly (perhaps this was stress that I just hadn't recognised as such). DH also put it down to the progesterone I was taking. The end of the 2ww came a lot quicker than I was expecting. The pregnancy test was to be done with the first wee of the morning. I read the instructions carefully  and followed them step by step. The 'control line' turns pink immediately and the 'test line' will turn pink within three minutes if it is positive. If no line appears, this means a negative result.The instructions told me to discard the test after 3 minutes as it is not accurate then. I set my stopwatch and stared at the blank space where the pink line should appear. Nothing. My stopwatch hit 3 minutes and not even an inkling of a pink line. My heart sank, I started welling up, I had been here before. But this time there had actually been an embryo inside me. I picked up the test and stared at it. Was I imagining it because I so desperately wanted to see it, or was there actually a faint pink link appearing. I took it into the bedroom where DH was still asleep and waved it in front of his face. He was so bleary eyed he couldn't make out anything. 'I can see one pink line next to the C, but no I can't see anything by the T' he said. After about 10 minutes when his eyes were working properly he looked again. 'hmmm, actually I can see it'. Well what the hell does it mean am I pregnant or not? The line appeared after about 5 minutes and the instructions said to discard after 3 minutes, but why? Surely it wouldn't change colour if I wasn't pregnant. I had to wait until it was time for the supermarket to open and I bought the most expensive clear blue test I could find. A digital one that says pregnant or not pregnant, then there can be no mistaking the result. I raced back home to re-test. Again, according to the instructions, the result would be displayed within 3 minutes. An agonising wait as the display flashed with an egg timer symbol, heart pounding, not wanting to look at it, but compelled to do so. Suddenly one word appeared - Pregnant. I stared at it in disbelief,  my eyes welled up again, but for a good reason this time. I jumped back into bed and waved the display in front of DH's face (again). We didn't really say anything, we just lay there snuggling.

I phoned the clinic and they booked me for a scan in 3 weeks time. This 3 week wait I think is going to be the most difficult and stressful time. I have lost count of how many times I looked at the test throughout the day. I actually don't believe it and I won't until I have that scan. Anything could happen within the next few weeks though. I don't feel like I'm pregnant, I don't feel any different. I'm almost tempted to do another test, but scared that it might say I'm not pregnant. I'm trying not to let myself get excited, but it's hard not to. If everything goes well, we'll be having a Christmas baby.

binkylinky

Amazing IVF treatment through NHS

I have been so impressed with the NHS and Cotswold Fertility Unit. We have been treated so well and it's been very personal, certainly not the clinical process I was expecting (partly due to all our appointments being at a discreet location in a nice Georgian lodge). Back in January we had our planning consultation where we were talked through the whole IVF process. It is is incredible what goes in to making a diddy little embryo.

I am a fairly pragmatic person. Although I am naturally excited about the prospect of a baby, I have remained realistic and level headed. Over the past six weeks I have broken the treatment down into chunks and to be honest, tried not to really think about the potential outcome. My treatment schedule indicated that I would need to sniff for just over 3 weeks, at which point I would have a scan and a blood test to determine whether down regulation had occurred. As always the staff at the clinic were efficient and friendly. I was told that I have an amazing uterus - well that's some accolade! I was shown how to inject myself with the stims which, until that point, I hadn't been vaguely bothered by. Suddenly the half inch needle looked more like a harpoon. The purpose of the injections is to overstimulate the ovaries so that lots of follicles ripen at the same time, instead of just one, as happens in normal ovulation. The following day I administered my first injection. At first I asked DH to do it for me, but the look on his face told me he was more scared than I was. I took the sheath off the needle, set the dial to release the correct amount of fluid and stared at it. Every time I moved it towards my belly I shrieked and bottled it. Eventually after 15 minutes of dithering I jabbed it in. It actually wasn't that bad, the anticipation was far worse than the experience.

I carried on with my normal activities, which included a 5 mile hill run, playing a 90 minute football match and a weight training session. I felt absolutely fine. I then read on a forum that once you start the stims you shouldn't exercise. Oh crap, I'd done loads. I knew that I would not be allowed to play any sport after the egg collection, but I hadn't mentally prepared myself for stopping prior to this. Sport is a huge part of my life and will be my biggest sacrifice should I become pregnant. I took it easy for the next few days until my 'day 9 ' scan and blood test. By now I was beginning to feel slightly tender and I was not surprised to be told that there was now way I'd be playing football that weekend. The nurse counted 11 follicles, all measuring around 11mm. She told me my ovaries were the size of small oranges -wow that's huge! Normally ovaries are about the size of almonds. No wonder they were feeling tender. I couldn't risk anything that would potentially damage them.

On day 12 of the stims I went for another scan and blood test. "You have lovely follicles" the nurse told me "everything looks perfect, you're a text book case" she said. The follicles were now measuring around 18mm, ideal for harvesting! Later that afternoon, once my bloods had been analysed, I was told that my egg collection was booked for 8.15am in two days time. I would need to take the HCG injection at exactly 7.15pm that night. This injection matures the eggs at exactly the right time. We needed to be in Oxford for the EC at 7.15am. We didn't want the stress of getting up at stupid o'clock and battling with the traffic, so we booked a nice hotel 10 minutes from the clinic and made a bit of an evening out of it.

True to form the treatment we received was second to none. The egg collection was done under sedation, which apparently means you are still conscious. To me it felt no different to the general anaesthetic I had had last year, I was completely out of it. Back in our private room after the treatment I was given a hot chocolate and slipped in and out of a pleasant sleep. The embryologist came in and informed us that they had collected 10 eggs and DH's sperm looked good. They would be incubated in a special fluid overnight and we would get a phone call in the morning telling us how many had fertilised. For the first time it was beginning to feel real.

I didn't know what time to expect the phone call. I sat in the kitchen listening to Chris Evans on the radio, writing this blog post and waiting for my phone to ring. How would I feel if none of them had fertilised? I had done some research the previous night and found statistics that suggested the average number of eggs collected was 8-15 and of those, 70% usually fertilise. Surely our chances were good. Finally the phone rang, my heart started racing and I almost dropped my phone. On the other end of the phone the embryologist spoke calmly and asked how I was feeling after the procedure (surprisingly good actually). I nervously anticipated her next words.. "I am happy to tell you that all 10 eggs have fertilised" .... wow! 100% fertilisation!! After hanging up I burst into tears. I really didn't understand what I was feeling. I began to realise that for the first time I was emotionally attached to the whole experience. Up until now it has just been a process that I have been going through. Now, suddenly, there were 10 embryos made of me and DH, in an incubator 40 miles away. Surreal. Weird. Mind boggling.

As I write this I am about nine hours away from finding out how our embryos have developed and whether they are strong enough to be cultured to day 5, where they become blastocysts. This would be the ideal outcome, as it means they can select the strongest one to pop back inside me and it has more chance of resulting in a pregnancy. If not, then they would do the transfer tomorrow. Hopefully I will be sharing good news with my next post.

My Psychic Stepmother

My step mother has been married to my Dad for about 15 years, but I have known her all my life. She also happens to be my Godmother and was my Mum's best friend at school (a different story for another time, my mum passed away when I was 16, almost 20 years ago). She is someone that I trust implicitly and have a great deal of respect for. WSM (Wicked Step Mother, as she calls herself)  has never hidden her 'psychic senses' from us, even as young children. I always saw it as something quite normal, probably because she is so down to earth and doesn't turn it into some sort of ridiculous spectacle.  She is very spiritual and never forces her spirituality or psychic messages upon anyone. She has a degree in psychology, worked as a primary school teacher for most of her working life and is incredibly intuitive. Although I say I am sceptical I'm not sure I actually am. I think I say that so other people don't think I'm crazy when I talk about it. There have been too many things that she has predicted for it to be simple coincidence.

I don't fully understand how WSM experiences these psychic happenings. I know that she can sense spirits and sometimes sees them. I know that she can see people's auras and feel them. I know that she can read palms. But mostly, she just says things at random, often with an "ooh I felt a really strong psychic shiver then, look at my goose bumps". About 3 years ago or so she was reading my palm, when she said "I can see twins. Well this is strange, I've known for a very long time that I would be grandmother to twins, but never considered that it could be through you as my stepdaughter, I'll be amazed if I am wrong about this". Her son and his wife finally had a child about seven years ago after three failed IVF attempts and there was no chance of them having any more. Her daughter, in her late thirties, had severe endometriosis and had married a man 23 years her senior, so WSM had written off any chance of grandchildren through them. I got quite excited about the thought of having twins, being a twin myself I know how incredible it is. I held on to this one message and didn't worry when I didn't fall pregnant straight away. It doesn't matter I thought, I know I'm going to have twins at some point in the future. About two years later WSM called me 'I have some amazing news she said, I'm going to be a grandmother again, Laura is pregnant with twins, we're all so surprised and delighted!' My heart sank. I felt awful that I didn't feel happier for Laura. Of course this was amazing for her, it turned out they had been trying for seven years since they had got married. I hid my feelings from WSM, but I think she knew how upset I was that it wasn't me who was pregnant with twins and that clearly when she had been psyching in with me a few years ago, she had been psyching in to her life and not mine.

When we met up just after Christmas (2013) she experienced one of those feelings again. Since we have started on the IVF journey a lot of conversations are often dominated by the talk of potential babies. As we were chatting she said "you will have a baby next year", but she said it with such certainty that she surprised herself by the force of her statement. I asked if it was her speaking or the spirits. She wasn't entirely sure and said it was probably a mix of both. She then suggested something I had never tried before; dowsing, not the type where you use a stick to find water, but pendulum dowsing. I believe it is an old technique that was often used to predict the gender of unborn babies.

Pendulum dowsing works by holding a pendulum (usually a necklace) over your palm and asking the spirits to answer yes/no questions. The pendulum will either swing back and forth or go around in circles. The first thing you need to establish is which one means yes and which one means no. So you ask questions that you already know the answer to. We sat at the kitchen table and began, my Dad and DH looking at us somewhat bemused - I'm not sure either of them really believes in any of this. WSM used her own necklace and pendant and held it out above my palm, after doing some sort of ritual to ensure the spirits were happy to help us. After we had established that a circular motion meant yes and a forward and backward motion meant no, we started asking the questions that we really wanted to know the answers to. I wasn't quite sure where to start and I can't now remember everything that we asked, but this is what I do remember:
Will I have a baby next year? Yes
Will I have twins? No
Will the baby be a girl? Yes
Will the baby be a boy? No
For some reason I felt a bit embarrassed asking the questions. I asked WSM if I could ask the questions in my head, not a problem she answered. I think I did this in case I got answers that I didn't want. It also meant that WSM couldn't subconsciously influence the movement of the pendant, as she had no idea what I was asking. I started by testing the method and asking the same questions that I had already asked, I got the exact same answers. I started asking a few more risky questions:
Will the baby be healthy? the pendulum was slow to move, it started by circling, then changed to moving back and forth. "I think that's a no" WSM said. She must have noticed a reaction in my face, as she asked if I was OK with that answer. I nodded and said it was fine. I didn't want to tell anyone what I had asked, so I kept it to myself.
Will this cycle of IVF be successful? No
Will I have a baby next year? Yes
I started to doubt things. My planned IVF cycle would finish with the embryo transfer at the end of March, which would mean a Christmas baby. If this IVF cycle isn't successful the only other way I'd be having a baby this year would be if I got pregnant naturally before the start of the IVF treatment - highly unlikely.
Will I conceive naturally? Nothing, no movement from the pendulum at all. WSM looked at me and said "you're obvioulsy not meant to know the answer to that question"
We finished the dowsing, but I was left feeling confused. I decided just to take on board the answers that I liked,  such as 'yes, I will be having a baby next year'. I'll find out soon enough whether this dowsing malarkey has any value or whether it is just a load of mumbo-jumbo!

The next step...

After about 18 months of 'trying for a baby' I thought it would be wise to speak to my doctor about investigating our fertility. Initially a very simple process, just go for the blood tests at the correct time during your cycle and hey presto they can determine the basics regarding your fertility. My tests revealed that my hormones were at the right levels and I appeared to be ovulating without any problems. DH, understandably, was somewhat reluctant to go for his sperm analysis. As I have previously said, he was terrified of what the result might be, not for his sake, but for mine. I think he also felt like he was having his manliness questioned. I didn't push, I knew he needed to do it in his own time. Eventually he went and the results came back showing that everything was normal, wow what a relief! But if everything is normal, why aren't we pregnant yet?

We were referred to a consultant gynaecologist at the hospital for further investigations. At our first consultation I had an internal scan  which revealed normal ovaries and a sufficient number of eggs, she counted about 6 in each ovary. However, she had suspicions about endometriosis because of symptoms I'd described and something she had spotted on the scan. She told me that I would be referred for a laparoscopy and hysteroscopy where they would be able to treat the endo if they found it and basically give my reproductive system a bit of a service. This was likely to happen in about 5-6 months, in the meantime keep trying, "hopefully I won't be seeing you again" she said.

I was amazed when, a month later, I got an appointment through for the surgery. In a strange way I was quite excited, I wondered what they would discover. I actually quite enjoyed going under and the strange sensation of coming round. As I was regaining consciousness a doctor sat by my side and said you won't remember this conversation, but I'll tell you anyway and you'll get it all in a letter within a few days. We found endometriosis which we zapped away, so your tubes are nice and clean now, hopefully you'll get pregnant within the next few months. I was really hopeful after this. The letter came through, as he had promised, and also mentioned something about 'tubal factor muscular damage' there was no more detail about this. There was a follow up appointment booked for 3 months time. I didn't conceive.

At the follow up consultation we were shown detailed pictures form my surgery (quite fascinating) the most revealing of which was one that showed how my tubes had pooled with the blue dye instead of just pushing it straight through. Essentially I have lazy tubes. This, the gynaecologist told us, was the only thing that she thought was preventing us from conceiving naturally. We were informed that the next step was IVF. Our gynaecologist is a very efficient woman and gets straight to the point. There was no discussion as to whether we wanted to go down this route, it was  just assumed. I was quite happy, DH looked more like a rabbit caught in the headlights. This doesn't mean you can't conceive naturally she told us, so keep trying and hopefully I won't see you again. This must be her trademark way of ending every consultation.

Knowing a number of friends who have had IVF treatment through the NHS I was naturally expecting an 18 month wait."How long will it be until treatment starts?" I asked. "Well, you could be all done within 5-6 months, we don't do waiting lists in Cheltenham!" Wow. Looks like the post code lottery has worked in our favour. We're getting the same level and speed of treatment as if we had paid privately. And three attempts. I really do appreciate how lucky I am.

What if we can't conceive?

When we first started trying I thought I would be pregnant by the end of that year (secretly I thought it would happen straight away!). It didn't happen. I went through phases of becoming a little preoccupied with my cycle, studying the fertility app that I had downloaded on my phone on a daily basis. I didn't like forcing sex when I was in my fertile window. Neither of us enjoyed it as much and I think DH actually felt used, as if I only wanted him for his sperm. After about a year we had a big heart to heart and agreed to give it a rest for a while and just see what happened. DH was relieved and I found it refreshing not to be monitoring my cycle so closely.

About four months later, on a beautiful summer camping trip in Exmoor, we started discussing what we would do if it turned out we couldn't conceive naturally. I was shocked to discover that DH was petrified of what I would think, feel and do if he was infertile. I reassured him that it would make no difference to my love for him and my commitment to him. I have always believed in things happening for a reason, even when it appears to be something awful I'll always try to take something positive from it. If we can't conceive, perhaps we're just not meant to. We had a deep conversation about the ethics of IVF and we decided at the time, if it came to it, we wouldn't go down that route.

DH then made a very contentious point about having children. Any parents reading this may well be offended. "Having a child is the most selfish thing you can do" he said "What!!? How can it be?" I asked.
I should mention that DH is a very effective debater and can always make his point of view out to be the most valid one. Perhaps this is why we never argue, I'd never stand a chance of winning! He went on to suggest that surely choosing to have a child is all for your own sake. You're not having a child for the child's sake, it doesn't exist yet. You're not having a child to benefit the community or society in any way. In fact having a child will just increase the population and the strain on the country's resources and economy. A person chooses to have a child for purely selfish reasons. I attempted to counter his argument; when the baby is born the parents become selfless, they give everything into that child's life to ensure it's health and happiness. Well, yes, of course, but that doesn't negate the fact that the parents chose to do that and that they chose to do it for their own selfish reasons and fulfilment. I couldn't help but agree. The title of my first post on this blog springs to mind, why do I want a baby? I don't know, I just want one!  Can I give any reason for wanting a baby that is not selfish? No.

We talked about adoption and instantly I could see that DH would rather adopt a child than father his own. He would then be doing something that is helping and making a difference to someone's life. It made sense, he's a compassionate and caring man and is certainly not selfish. A few months later I found out that a friend was going through the adoption process. They had been jumping through hoops for months and had finally been approved for adoption. The conversation made me realise how difficult adoption would be. People don't give up healthy babies any more. My friend told me that the vast majority of children that need adopting have severe 'psychological damage' (for want of a better expression) due to the mental/physical abuse they have suffered. Adoption is not a light decision, it is not a simple alternative to having a baby of your own. I truly admire anyone who adopts and although I love the idea of changing a child's life, I just don't think I have the mental strength for it. The question of what we will do if we can't conceive, I know is a question that will be answered by me. Despite his opinions and feelings towards having a baby I know DH will not debate this and ultimately it will be my decision. Whatever that is I also know I will have his full support.

Why do I want a baby?

I think, as many women do, that I have always assumed my life would follow a certain path; a happy marriage, a good job, a nice house and kids. Well, I've I achieved the first three, but 'kids' is where I've hit a stumbling block. My desire to get pregnant has grown, a lot, over the past four years. But why? I have no idea why I feel the need and want for a baby in our life. I have what I consider a perfect life, why on earth would I want to change that?! I love my life. I married my soul-mate and we have an incredible marriage, we enjoy every day we spend together and to this day we have never had an argument or even raised our voices to each other. We have our dog, essentially our baby who is more like a little pony (he weighs 35kg). Although he is 'only a dog' we love him dearly and he brings so much joy to our lives. He was not an easy puppy, far from it! Many of our friends, who have children themselves, have said to us that if we managed to cope with him, we'll find kids a breeze. I'd like to believe that.

So, back to my desire for a baby, or is it just the pregnancy I want? I have a mild obsession with pregnant bumps. I think they are beautiful and I have yearned for a bump of my own for years.I have to suppress the urge to stroke the bellies of expectant mothers I meet (I would only ever ask to feel the bump of a friend). From a young age I have always cooed around babies, I love children. Yet I still cannot explain why I want one of my own. The only thing I can put in down to is a natural maternal instinct, even if that does sound a bit clichéd.

What about Hubby though, how does he feel about children? In a nutshell he doesn't like babies and has never wanted to father one. However, before he proposed to me he knew and understood that marriage would include children, but we never really discussed it. I first started tentatively suggesting that we start trying (well stop trying not to) for a baby about three years ago. I do worry about Hubby. I feel very selfish and often question whether we should be doing this. I love him so much, so why am I forcing him to do this? But, he loves me so much that he wants to give me everything he can. I believe that the moment we have a baby, Hubby will discover his paternal instinct and will be a fantastic father. Friends and family often say 'it will be different when it's your own'. I hold on to this thought and I have to, anything else is unthinkable. What if he's not different, what if he doesn't want to hold his own baby, what if he ends up resenting me and the baby. These are fleeting thoughts and worries I have. However, he has strong values and morals and is such a decent man that he will always do right by his family.