July 2017
Those of you who were regular readers of my blog may have wondered why I haven't written a post for nearly 2 years. The obvious answer (and the one I usually give) is that life as a working parent is too busy and I simply don't have time to keep up with the writing. However, that's a complete lie. The real reason is that anything I could have chosen to write about would just sound too smug, and no-one wants to read that. Over the past few years I have come across a lot of amusing blogs and articles about the pitfalls of parenting, the stresses and strains you face and the funny anecdotes of why parenting is so difficult. A lot of these articles have titles along the lines of 'what they never told you about being a mum' or 'the myths of raising a child' etc. But in my experience no-one ever told me it was going to be easy, everyone told me how tiring it was going to be, how my life would change beyond recognition and how I would never have time to pursue my own hobbies. In reality I've had the opposite, hence my lack of posts. No-one wants to read about how I've found being a mum so easy. These sorts of posts are just not relate-able. People want to read things that they can laugh at and feel like they're not the only ones struggling. And in all honesty I enjoy reading those sorts of blogs as well.
So why now, have I chosen to start writing again? Well, we find ourselves on the next part of our journey and we don't yet know where this road will lead. I have always imagined my life with two children in it. Relatively soon after Little Bean was born I started thinking about when we might have another. I have been in no rush (primarily because I couldn't face the thought of having to pay £1500 a month in childcare). In a rather logical and emotionally detached way I did lots of number crunching to work out the most financially viable time to have a second without there being a huge age gap. We agreed to try naturally for six months before going down the IVF route again and I decided that the summer holidays would be the perfect time to go through a cycle. Which is where we are right now.
Again I have been amazed by the efficiency of the Cotswold and Oxford Fertility Units. I was told to get some blood tests completed then book a nurses planning consultation. So two weeks after completing the tests me and DH found ourselves in the familiar nurses room at the CFU having my insides scanned in that oh-so dignified position. Consent forms were signed, and we discussed the need for a drugs assisted frozen embryo transfer. The drugs were delivered within days and at the start of my next cycle I began injecting again. It's all been so quick and even though I've been planning this for well over a year it all seems so sudden. Similarly to the previous IVF cycle I feel somewhat detached from it, as if it is happening to someone else. Being as it is a frozen cycle the process is far simpler and quicker. I completed 1 week of injections, with tablets 3 times a day, then a scan on day 11 to determine the thickness of my uterine lining and it's readiness for an embryo. The clinic phoned me back the same day to book in the embryo transfer for the following week, now just two days away. Obviously there are a lot of 'ifs' and the success rate is still only about 35%. We have two frozen embryos, but there is no guarantee they will even survive the thawing process. I keep trying to prepare myself for it to fail, but that is easier said than done. Due to the ease and success with which it worked last time, both of us can't help feeling that it's just going to work. No matter how much I tell myself that it is likely to fail I can't help thinking about seeing that positive pregnancy test.
We've kept it very private this time. I don't know how I will feel if it is not successful. We would go for the second embryo, but if that also fails, then that's it, game over. We have agreed that we are not prepared to go through a fresh cycle and spend that much money on something that might not work. With our current finances we do not think it would be fair on Little Bean. Not only would it take us years to save up enough for a fresh cycle (by which point I think I'd be too old) but I also only have one ovary now, which means half the harvest of eggs and the chance of success reduced by 50%. When people have asked if we'll have a second, I've suggested that we'd probably have to go for IVF again. The most common response to that is, 'oh well, if it doesn't work at least you already have Austin'. I'm not quite sure how I feel about that response. For whatever reason I have a very strong desire for a second baby. The fact that we have Little Bean, won't lessen the heartache if it fails. It sounds ridiculous, I am beyond grateful that we have Little Bean, so I don't feel that I have the right to feel disappointed if I don't get to have a second. He is incredible, our life is perfect, I have no idea why I want to disrupt that and rock the steady ship we are on. But I do. I want our Little Bean to have a sibling to grow up with, to play with, to be the amazing big brother that I know he would be.
Progress Update:
As I sit here writing this, there is a definite chance of a pregnancy. OFU were ridiculously efficient, and the whole thing was done within about 10 minutes. Soon after being summoned into the little room the embryologist (who we both recognised from our previous treatment - surely a good omen) came in with a broad smile and told us that the embryo had thawed nicely and was looking good. We watched on the monitor again as the catheter was inserted and a brief white explosion signaled the successful transfer of the embryo. So now we just wait, 13 days until I do the pregnancy test, at which point if it is positive I would already be considered as 4 and a half weeks pregnant due to the odd way they calculate it. I'm already finding it difficult not to plan things for a possible baby. I found it hard whilst tidying the house this afternoon to avoid thinking about what furniture we will need and how we would re-organise the bedrooms to create a nursery. I think I really just need to get on as normal, although without the wine.
Progress Update:
The past few days have been a bit of a roller-coaster of emotions. Actually that's somewhat of an exaggeration as I don't get overly emotional, so more like a merry-go-round. A few days after the embryo transfer I started to get some light spotting, which I'd already researched and is not unusual. One line of thought as that it is implantation bleeding, so I saw this as a potentially positive thing. However, yesterday the bleeding got more constant (although still very light). I thought it was the start of menses and burst into tears. We happened to be at a farm park at the time and as I came out of the toilets hiding my tears behind my sunglasses I looked around to see DH and Little Bean having a wail of a time spinning around on a giant ride on duck. This made me cry more. Such a beautiful sight, my heart is so full up of love for these two, why should I be getting upset about something that barely even existed. I felt so stupid, how naive to think that I would be lucky enough for a second cycle to end in a positive outcome. Later that day the bleeding had all but stopped, so I very much began to believe it was not the start of menses. Today I have no idea. It is nothing like my normal periods, incredibly light, but there none-the-less. I have googled myself crazy and this has done me no favours. Ultimately you can always find one forum that says what you want it to. So I am now clutching to those few stories which report identical symptoms to me and a positive result. It's surprisingly easy to ignore the hundreds of others that I've read that say the contrary. The most frustrating thing is just not knowing for sure. There is no point doing a pregnancy test yet as either result could be a false positive or a false negative and I think it would just make me feel worse. I wish I could just believe that it hasn't worked and then be surprised if somehow it has. I have another 6 days to wait and that is quite literally all I can do.
Two days to go:
As each day passes my hopes fade. I have continued to experience light bleeding at the same rate for the past 5 days. I am finding this 2 week wait so much harder than last time. I am breaking down in tears far too easily for my liking. My expectations are higher and my concerns over it failing are far greater. Last time I had a huge safety net of having 2 frozen embryos and the chance of another 2 fresh cycles on the NHS. This time there is only one little ice baby remaining, only one more chance. I just want to know for sure now. I feel like I'm in limbo, my emotions on hold, with this black cloud hanging over me. I'm ready for it to burst, but it's not going to until I see the pregnancy test result. If it does burst I can at least then cry myself out and prepare myself for what is to come.
Test Day:
So above all odds the test amazingly revealed that I am pregnant. As I held the little stick and saw a definite pink line appearing within seconds my hands began shaking. In disbelief I grabbed the second clear blue test I had bought and sure enough it flashed up with the words 'pregnant 2-3 weeks'. I can't believe it. What's with the bleeding I have had, clearly not a period after all. The clinic has booked me in for the '6 week' ultrasound scan, which I remember well from before, the first time I saw Little Bean's beating heart.
Since the positive result I have experienced four days of heavy bleeding, surely not normal. The clinic told me that sometimes women bleed in pregnancy, yet still go on to have a normal healthy pregnancy. I read a piece of research that stated 35% of women bleed during pregnancy and of those 50% miscarry. The nurse was unable to give me any reassurance and said I will just have to wait until the scan to find out exactly what's going on. Another pregnancy test might not be able to confirm anything as the HCG levels could still be present even if I have miscarried. I thought I would be delighted to see that positive pregnancy test result, but I am far from excited. I am emotionally fraught and I am too scared about what the bleeding might mean. Until the scan day I will remain cautiously optimistic, with that same cloud hanging over me, although it does at least have a silver lining now.
Scan Day:
For the past week I have managed not to think too much about this day (apart from the reminders 3 times every day where I have to take the drugs). With the return to work this week after the summer holidays my mind has been occupied with other things, but now it is occupied with nothing else.
The scan revealed my fears and the nurse confirmed that I have had an early miscarriage. The news is not a shock, but the emotions that I've been keeping at bay for the past few weeks are now pouring out, it feels so raw. On my drive home from the clinic I wailed in a way I haven't in years. We've invested so much energy into this. My whole summer has been about this. DH and I just hugged, there's little to say and his touch says all I need right now. I am emotionally drained and exhausted, but I also know I'll bounce back soon enough. I am thankful that this has happened so early, rather than later on in pregnancy. Although there are so many unknowns with miscarriage, the nurse told us that it's because there was something wrong with the embryo and even if the pregnancy had continued it would never have survived. I can't imagine the pain a woman would feel with an established pregnancy. It will be a few months before we can go for our final attempt and I already feel anxious about it. I certainly won't be going into it with the same confidence and complacency that I had this time. Yet I've literally just realised as I'm writing this that I will maintain my positivity. Being positive and optimistic throughout can do no harm. Is pain worse when you're not expecting it as opposed to when you are? I don't think so. It's still the same pain. So what is the point in being pessimistic, in hoping for the best but expecting the worst. There is none. I will hope for the best. I will expect the best.
November 2017 - Here we go again
I have just completed the round of injections for our final attempt at a frozen embryo transfer. It's strange, I've barely thought about this attempt. Life is busy at work and in some ways I feel that it is better going through a cycle during term time as it is refreshing not having to think about it all the time. I have recently taken up a new hobby, which is also keeping me busy. After making the decision to retire from football at the end of last season I have now decided to take up rugby. An odd choice for a slight 5' 4" woman, but I am loving it. I am almost disappointed at the thought that I am not going to be able to play if I get pregnant. I have a scan in two days and I am guessing the transfer will be a week after that. So I'll get to play one more rugby match, then I'll have to invent some believable reason as to why I cannot play for a few weeks (doctors orders after ET, not allowed to do any form of intense exercise, let alone contact sport). I am feeling a lot more level headed and maybe realistic this time around. That's not to say I won't be distraught if it doesn't work, but I do at least know what it feels like not to work and I think I know what head space I will be in if this final attempt does not succeed.
Two days post embryo transfer and I'm feeling good. The embryologist told us that the blastocyst was hatching and expanding nicely. There is now nothing we can do, but wait.
It is now one week post transfer and two days ago I started spotting, in the exact same way as last time. I was doing so well at not thinking about it, but now there's a constant little reminder and my thoughts are heading in the same direction as they were with the previous attempt. Even though I am pretty sure I exhausted all research online with regards to spotting/light bleeding after an embryo transfer I am yet again scouring the internet in the vain hope that I will find that bit of research that explains what the spotting means. A glimmer of hope to latch on to that this cycle will not end in the same fate. The reality, of course, is that nothing I can do can change the outcome of that result, so I just have to accept the wait.
Test Day
For someone trying desperately to conceive I don't think there has ever been anyone less excited to see a positive pregnancy test result. I barely felt anything as the test line turned pink on the first test and the words flashed up pregnant 1-2 weeks on the second test. It's not that I'm consciously trying to dampen my spirits, I just simply can't get excited as I am convinced the same thing is going to happen. I started bleeding more heavily within hours of the positive test. Being as it was the weekend I wasn't able to speak to the clinic so had to wait two days. When I spoke to the nurse and explained the bleeding she instructed me to complete another pregnancy test the following weekend. Although it was not said with words, it was very much implied that this second test was to confirm another early miscarriage and a negative result. It was an awful week, I was off work with flu and had nothing in the tank either mentally or physically. I just wanted the week to be over so I could deal with the emotions of not being pregnant. Saturday morning arrived and I almost absent mindedly completed the test, leaving the pee-stick on the table as me and Little Bean ate breakfast. When I next looked, a clear pink line had appeared in the test region - a positive result. It must be a mistake, I never trust the tests that don't actually say the words. So I took the remaining clear blue digital test and sure enough the words 'pregnant 1-2 weeks' appeared again. How can this be, I've been bleeding for a week, surely I've had a miscarriage. Another agonising two day wait before I could speak to the clinic again and have them confirm what was really going on.
Yesterday I spoke to a nurse from the clinic who basically said if I was testing positive then I am pregnant. She dismissed my thoughts of it being left over HCG (pregnancy hormone) in my body and told me not to take any notice of how pregnant the test said I was, as I had argued that surely the test should now be reading 2-3 weeks. I have been booked in for a scan next week. Seriously, another week before I find out for sure what's going on. How am I meant to feel, how am I meant to act? I guess I've got to act like I am pregnant and continue to avoid alcohol, caffeine and of course contact sports! She ordered me more drugs, five weeks worth as they have to last for the first trimester. I was reluctant to pay the £115 for drugs that I feel I am not going to need. I decided that I would do another test and if it showed up as negative I would cancel the drugs order. Surely if I have miscarried, enough time has now passed for my body to be rid of the HCG hormone. The digital test I completed last night displayed the words 'not pregnant' of course I did a back up one this morning and that read 'pregnant'. I am beyond confused, my hormones and emotions are all over the place and if I allowed myself to be I would probably be a bit of a wreck right now, but I don't have time for that. With Little Bean's birthday less than two weeks away, Christmas just around the corner and a mounting pile of work to do I just need to keep pushing on. What more can I do?
December 11th 2017
It was really no surprise when the scan showed an empty uterus. That is how I feel really. Empty. All that energy, time, effort, science, technology, medical care, work, it's all just vanished instantly in a metaphorical puff of smoke. This process started over four years and now it is all over. I feel guilty about being so upset when in reality my life is incredible. I always say to people how much I love my life, this is not going to stop that. But I do need to accept that I need to give myself time to grieve what could have been. I have hundreds of thoughts swirling in my mind. This isn't just about me not being pregnant right now. It is so much more than that. It is the crushing realisation that Little Bean won't get to be a big brother, that all those scenarios I've played out in my head which included two children will never come to fruition. It's actually surprising how many future realities I had pictured. In these images it was always a daughter we were going to have, we were going to play on the same netball team, I was going to be her role model, she was going to break gender stereotypes, when we camped I was going to sleep in the roof of the campervan with her whilst Little Bean and DH would have a boys night in bottom bed. Is that ridiculous, that I had already planned out a life that didn't even exist?
It's funny, over the past few days I can't help but notice how the media and society portrays families as always having at least two children. Just a simple google image search depicts every family with a boy and a girl. Why is there a natural assumption that every mother will have a second? Why is it that mums of one child can be made to feel they are not validated as a real mum because they 'only have one'. Before we started this final cycle me and DH had discussed what we would do if it didn't work. I told him that I would want to go back on to the depo (contraceptive) injection, which means I am making a conscious decision to stop trying to conceive. I need to take ownership of this decision, if I don't then there is a real danger that my life will feel unfulfilled. I refuse to let that happen. I don't want to be a person who desperately wanted a second child but couldn't have one, I want to be a person who has changed and realised that having one perfect child is everything I could ever want. When people ask (as they always do) "so, when are you having another then?" do I want my answer to be "as much as we want one, we aren't able to" (making that person feel awkward for asking) or do I want my answer to be "actually we're just sticking with one, we're happy"? I'm still raw, so I'm not at this point yet. I'm not quite ready to delete that image of having two children and for that reason I think I need to delay the depo injection for a few months until I've dealt with my emotions. I've spent years of my life trying to get pregnant, I am too familiar with the monthly anguish of wondering whether I've conceived, of obsessing over the fertility app on my phone, even when we've tried to leave things to chance I've still felt this same anguish. There is the slimmest chance that I could get pregnant naturally with my one ovary and damaged Fallopian tube, but I cannot live my life waiting on that chance. I cannot put myself through that pain every month so I know I need to draw a line. I can already see my perspective changing and I know it won't take me too long to reach that line. I look forward to that point as I know it signifies absolute and pure happiness, which is what I see every time I look at our Little Bean.
