Here we go again

Today is CD 1, so I've just arranged to go in tomorrow for another blood test. Hopefully this time my FSH will be a bit lower again and I'll be able to start IVF #3.

What I didn't tell you about the excitement of the other day is that the first time it happened was on day 13 of my normally 26-day cycle. I usually ovulate around day 13, so for the first time ever, this put me in with a chance of a 100% natural conception.

Of course, Mr No Nonsense's words of last year were ringing in the back of my head, when I told him about our problem and he said, "With these sperm results, it wouldn't have happened anyway." But I was also aware that DH's sperm had improved significantly since then.

So when my AF was due on Monday and there was no sign of it, I tried not to get excited, but I was a little distracted. And when I got through the whole day at work yesterday and there was still no sign, I was a little more distracted.

I remained a little bit realistic - I kept telling myself that I was waiting for AF to show up because I needed to arrange my blood test, and reminding myself that although I think of my cycle as being like clockwork, I have been a day late before.

I have to confess, though, that I enjoyed a couple of days of day-dreaming about what it would be like to find out that I was pregnant, imagining telling DH he was going to be a father, calculating how many weeks gone I would be by the time I finished work...

But when I saw last night that AF was on her way, and then when I woke up to a full flow this morning, I wasn't too sad, because the delay was just long enough to ensure that it's OK that I can't go into London today and that I'll be just fine doing the blood test tomorrow.

I'm hoping for a nice low FSH number after being on holiday this month, sorting out my work situation and generally being less stressed than I have been for ages. But if I don't get it, we have another month of trying naturally - which makes me feel as though there's only two weeks to wait rather than four before we have another chance.

So all in all, it's been a nice couple of days with my head in the clouds, and when I came down to earth it wasn't with the crash that it has been on so many previous occasions. And now we'll see what happens next...

Out of context

When one of my US nephews was about 3 or 4, he saw his preschool teacher in Walmart. Normally outgoing, confident, and very fond of his teacher, his first instinct was to hide - she wasn't meant to exist out of school, and he was completely thrown by her presence in the real world.

Yesterday I knew how he felt. I was in Starbuck's in town with a friend, and Nurse Perfect from my old clinic walked in. I suppose it wasn't all that unexpected - I did know that I live between the clinic and her home, because she once offered to drop some drugs off for me on her way home, and my town has a Saturday market and a couple of other attractions that make it worth the occasional visit.

I don't know if she saw me, and even if she did, I don't know if she recognised me - my face wasn't the thing she was usually looking at when I saw her, and the part of me she is most familiar with isn't usually on display in a coffee shop. Even so, and even though I loved her when I was going through treatment, my face started to burn and I sank lower in my chair and had to mumble excuses to my friend about how hot it was getting next to the window.

I wonder what the correct etiquette is here in buttoned-up Britain when you bump into your ex-IVF nurse when she's off duty...?

Excitement!

I wasn't sure whether to blog about this, but it's a story that I would have loved to hear a couple of years ago.

When we married, DH and I were both virgins. It took us a few days to figure out how to get that thing to go in there, and once we did, we found that we had another little problem. I did a bit of googling when I got back home, and discovered that there was a name for it - delayed ejaculation. Subsequent reading indicated that it was actually more like situational anejaculation.

This meant that our TTC was always a bit more mechanical and a bit less romantic than one might have hoped - we tried various methods of DIY artificial insemination over the first several months of our marriage before eventually going to the clinic last July. When Mr No Nonsense asked us if we had any problems, we told him about it, and his immediate and blunt reply was, "Well, it wouldn't have worked anyway, because you don't have enough sperm."

Since then, of course, DH's sperm have improved hugely thanks to the regime we've been on - but we still had the basic problem with getting them anywhere near my (elderly) eggs.

And so we come to the big news - last Monday, for the first time ever, and after more than two years of trying, DH successfully finished the job. And a week later, he did it again, proving that it wasn't just a one-off fluke.

This is a hugely big deal for us - it means that, however slim the chances of success, we finally get a chance to TTC like normal people. We still have all our other issues, but we finally have an element of hope that we never had before.

So if anyone stumbles across this who is in the same situation I was a couple of years ago, I have this to say - it can be hugely upsetting and frustrating, but if you stay calm, try not to let it become an issue between you, and persevere, it can eventually come right even after you've resigned yourself to it never happening.

I'm back!

After our weekend away, we went off on holiday with US bro and his family and my parents. The place we stayed at claimed to have internet access, but at £7 per hour it was access I wasn't prepared to use!

We went to the seaside, and it was the coldest seaside holiday we've ever had, with fog to boot on the first day. Other than the weather, though, it was a good break, and lovely to get to know my nephews and nieces again after spending very little time with them on their last two visits (for my wedding and UK bro's wedding).

The legal process for the redundancies has been grinding on, and the holiday gave me time to think about what I want to do. My department is being reduced in size and we have to reapply for the jobs that are remaining. I discussed it with DH and with my parents and SIL, and it all boiled down to 'what would I regret more?'.

The answer then became fairly clear - if I carried on working and then failed to get pregnant, I'd always wonder whether leaving that job and taking a bit of time off to relax and destress might have helped. If I left this job and didn't get pregnant, I could always find another job, and if it's not as well paid as this one - well, we don't actually need as much as I earn at the moment.

So when they phoned me on Monday to give me the formal notification that the consultation has finished and I'm 'at risk of redundancy', I told them I wouldn't be applying for one of the new jobs. Yesterday was my first day back in the office, and I had a meeting at which I confirmed that and was told what my package will be. It's an amount that if I'm careful, I should be able to live on for about a year - though to put it in perspective, it's also about the amount that we will have spent on IVF by the time we've finished IVF #3.

Although I'm redundant, I'm still needed for the moment, so my agreed finishing date is in early August. I'm in the happy position of having to beat off unwanted job offers at the moment, but I'm trying not to burn any bridges, and to say 'not right now' rather than a straight 'no'.

So the stress is reduced, and I'm hoping the way is clear for IVF #3 to start next week. I also have some other news which I consider rather exciting, but I'll keep you in suspense for that until tomorrow - I'm off to catch up on everyone else's blogs now...

Gone fishin'

Thank you so much for all your comments and your support - it means a lot to me.

And you're right about how supportive my family are. When I mentioned my brother's news to my mother - it was rather tentative, since I didn't know whether he had told her yet, so I just said, "Have you spoken to ___ and ___ yet? - her instant response was, "Yes - it just gets harder, doesn't it?" I so appreciated the fact that, although I know she'll be excited to have another grandchild, I didn't have to pretend with her. I hope they all know that I am genuinely happy for them - I'm sad for me, and the timing sucks, but I don't begrudge them their happiness in any way.

Anyway, I may not be around much over the next few days - my US brother and SIL and their seven children are staying with us until Monday. I've managed to find bed space for everyone, and have bought a mountain of food - when the woman on the cash desk in Costco saw my trolley, she instantly offered me executive membership! It'll be exciting having eleven people for three nights in a house that only has one bathroom, but I'm sure the neighbours will help us out if there's an emergency!

Have a great weekend, and if you're in the UK - enjoy this beautiful sunny weather. (Also, please think of me tomorrow - as well as having my hyperfertile brother and his family staying with us, we're going to Niece #4's christening tomorrow, and it'll be the first time I see my little brother and his wife since they announced their news. Could the weekend get any more child-centric?)

Out of turn

Thank you so much for your supportive comments last night. I wasn't able to be more specific in that post, because I'd been asked not to tell anyone else in the family, and one of my SILs reads this blog.

So here's what happened. I was home alone while DH had another driving lesson, and the phone rang. It was my little brother - the one who got married last year, just over a year after we did.

In rather hesitant tones, he said, "We've got some rather unexpected news."

Now, when I say that I specifically prayed that this wouldn't happen just yet, I don't think I was being horrible. They do want children, and I obviously want it for them as well, because I wouldn't wish what we're going through on anybody, especially not someone I love. But they weren't planning on having them just yet - in fact, the timing isn't brilliant for them, since my brother is also facing possible redundancy and they're currently living in temporary accommodation while doing up an old ruin of a house they bought last year.

My lovely brother didn't specifically say anything about our situation, but he did tell me that I was the first to know, and it was clear to me that it was because of our situation that he made sure we heard it first and had time to get used to the idea before everyone else started to burst with excitement.

And that's one of the things I hate about this whole IF business - it affects everybody. When my sister got pregnant with #4, she and my BIL agonised over how to tell me, and worried about upsetting me. My little brother has obviously thought of our situation and made sure he tried to tell me in a sensitive way. And I know when he told my parents and my sister, one of their first concerns would have been about how I would react.

It shouldn't be this way. The whole family should just be greeting the news of another new little life with nothing but joy and happiness, not worrying about whether the news will upset me. I don't want to be this person.

The trouble is, though, I AM this person. I cried buckets last night, and I'm crying again as I type this. I managed to sound excited for my brother, and I truly am pleased for him. I know he hasn't taken the whole baby thing for granted, and has thought about the possibility that they might not be able to have children when they wanted them. But they've still managed to do it - unplanned, and at a time when my SIL has been travelling for work so much that it's astonishing that they managed to fit it in.

I'm grateful for two things - first, that my brother was thoughtful enough to tell me first, so I can get used to the idea before everyone else starts talking about it. Hopefully, he'll have no idea that I'm anything other than excited for him.

Secondly, I'm grateful that I heard over the phone and that I won't be seeing any of my family for a few days. I hope that by the time I do see them - at #4's christening this coming Saturday - I'll be able to talk about it without crying.

Truly, it's not that I'm not happy for them. But they got married over a year after us. I just feel as though we've now truly missed our turn. I'm also now terrified to go ahead with IVF #3. If it fails, then when their baby is born I'll be in exactly the same position as I was a couple of weeks ago when waiting for #4 to be born - reading excited family e-mails and thinking of what could have been if my IVF had been successful.

DH is wonderful - he held me while I cried last night, and he made all the right noises. My brother is wonderful, and so thoughtful to tell me the way he did. But life? Well, it pretty much sucks.

Gutted

This weekend, I very specifically prayed for something not to happen right now, because I didn't think I'd be able to cope with it.

It was a bit of an odd thing suddenly to pop into my head, because it wasn't something that was on the cards at all, and I also prayed for the strength to cope with it if it unexpectedly did happen.

And today it happened.

I don't even know why I suddenly thought of it this weekend, but it was the one thing I was hoping not to hear about this week. I'm gutted, but I also feel horrible for feeling this way.

Sometimes life is very, very unfair.

More positive news

I've been trying since Thursday to get in touch with the clinic and find out what my other levels were, as they only gave my FSH level in the message they left. I was told on Friday that someone would call me back, but Friday evening came and nobody had, so I resigned myself to waiting until Tuesday, since Monday is a bank holiday.

I'd forgotten that XXXX clinic is open seven days a week. Yesterday morning I was working on a little DIY project, and when I'd finished I decided to have a good long soak in the bath. After only five minutes in the bath, my mobile - which I'd left downstairs - rang. That ruined my bath, more so when I checked the message on the phone and it was the clinic that had rung. The message didn't give any information, but said they'd try me again today. I couldn't ring them back, because although the clinic is open at the weekend, the switchboard is not - they don't have enough staff working weekends to deal with non-urgent queries.

I swore and stamped around a little bit, then resigned myself to not knowing anything until today, and just hoped they wouldn't try to call while I was in church today.

But then in the afternoon, I was driving to the shops and as I sat waiting for a traffic light to turn green, my phone rang again - and it was the clinic again! Of course, I had to (illegally) answer it.

So, although my FSH is slightly up at 12.3, my oestradiol has actually gone down again, to 143 (its lowest level ever), LH is 6.8 and prolactin is within the normal range (she didn't give me a number). So all in all, those numbers are not too bad (for me), and certainly still better than last summer.

I mentioned that things had been a bit stressful recently and asked if this could affect my FSH level. The nurse said stress definitely had an adverse effect on FSH in many patients, and if things calmed down a bit this month I might well see a better result next month, though she also said it's not always easy to tell, since FSH levels fluctuate anyway from month to month.

After a pretty awful morning yesterday, I spent most of the day feeling as though I had a little ball of panic sitting on my chest. The call from the clinic didn't make it go away straight away, but it certainly helped.

Now all I need to do is keep calm over the next 22 days, and hope that makes the difference.

My angel

My grandfather used to have a very powerful and rather vengeful guardian angel. If anyone ever upset my grandfather, they would often walk into a door, or drop something, or stub their toe, soon afterwards, and my grandfather would nod wisely and say, "That was my angel."

This morning, for reasons I won't go into, I was angrier than I have ever been with DH's sister. I was actually crying with rage and frustration at yet another example of her extreme selfishness and yet another weekend that was going to be ruined for me because of it.

Ten minutes after I got off the phone to DH (who stayed with his mother last night after visiting his father in hospital), I was typing up a storm, writing a really long ranting post about how angry I was, when I got a text from him to say that the situation had been somewhat resolved and SIL was going to keep her promise after all.

I think I must have inherited my grandfather's angel, and he's given her a bit of a nudge. It's nice to have a vengeful angel on your side from time to time...

No easy answers

The two major upheavals going on in my life continue to run in tandem.

On Wednesday, I received an offer of voluntary redundancy, which is valid for a period of one week only. I still don't know what roles might be on offer after the restructuring, what the likelihood is of me getting one, or whether we will succeed in persuading the firm to change its mind about some key elements of the new job descriptions that we're not happy with. I'm unlikely to have any more information to help me make that decision before the deadline has passed, so either I make a firm decision and leap into voluntary redundancy now, or I wait and see how the situation unfolds. For the moment, I'm waiting.

Also on Wednesday, my AF turned up. I didn't particularly want to go ahead with treatment this cycle - there's too much going on at work, my FIL's in hospital again, my sister's just had her baby, my US brother and his family are coming over next week and there's a family holiday planned... But once again, I didn't want to be forced to make an actual decision not to go ahead, just in case of this was our only opportunity.

I was at the hospital with MIL when XXX clinic called with the results of my CD 2 blood test yesterday, and I missed the call. So I don't know all my levels, and haven't had a chance to discuss it with them - I'm waiting for a nurse to call me back.

What I do know is that my FSH this month is 12.3, and they don't recommend going ahead with treatment. Which is what I wanted really - I couldn't have coped with treatment this cycle on top of everything else.

But... that FSH level seems to be creeping up again. It's still not as high as it was last summer, but it's higher than last month, which was higher than on my monitoring cycle in March. And I actually did a bit of I-know-I-shouldn't-but-I-will-anyway Googling last night, and found something that suggested that if anything, stress actually LOWERS FSH, rather than raising it as I had thought.

So I'm happy to be going on the family holiday, and not to be turning into a pincushion for another month, but now I'm nervous about whether my levels will be suitable next month. And XXXX clinic seems to operate a 'three strikes and you're out' policy, so if my FSH is still high next month, that might be the end of the road with them.

I'm nervous. In a month's time, I could be forced to take a job that combines all the worst elements of my existing job and takes away all the fun parts, at the same time as facing another rejection from Mr Miracle Worker. Or I could have a redundancy cheque, the prospect of a summer off and an orange to practise my injections on.

The one thing I'm clinging onto is that my next AF is due on 21 or 22 June. And that means that if my FSH is OK next cycle, then egg collection, embryo transfer and beta testing would all be in July. And who could ever have predicted that...?

The way things work

On our way back from my sister's on Sunday evening, DH and I talked about what a mad month this has been, and how difficult it would have been to get through it if I'd been six or seven months pregnant.

There's been all the uncertainty over the redundancy - OK, pregnancy might have protected me, because there are all sorts of extra employment law rights you get once you're pregnant, but I would have been facing at the very least a huge change in my working conditions and the loss of several valued colleagues.

Then this weekend I basically spent the whole weekend helping to look after my nieces - my mother had cleared her diary for a fortnight, but having stayed with my sister and helped with the older children for all that time, she had to leave the day after #4 was born. My BIL is lovely, but childcare isn't really his thing, so I took #1-3 to the park, changed nappies, wiped bottoms, did bathtime and bedtime, and in between all that, rocked #4 to sleep, passed her to my sister for feeding when she woke up, took her back and burped her, and did all the other million and one things that need to be done when you have a newborn, a 1-year-old, a 3-year-old and a 6-year-old in the house.

And today my FIL is having an operation, so I'll be going backwards and forwards again this week to take my MIL to the hospital to visit him.

And all of that is on top of just generally being very busy with normal everyday stuff.

I said to DH that it now made sense that IVF #1 and #2 didn't work out, because I was clearly needed over these couple of weeks to help a lot of other people out.

But then I said that I hope it'll be our turn now. My sister's not going to have another baby - certainly not in the next few months, and I'm pretty sure she's hoping #4 will be the last. DH is making progress with his driving, and hopefully if his parents need this level of help again, DH will be able to do the driving, or at least share it. And I'm pretty certain that in a month's time I will be unemployed and all my current work worries will be gone.

Perhaps the universe is finally clearing its diary for us now...

Wonderful family

Honestly, I couldn't wish for a better family than I have.


We went to meet our new niece on Thursday evening, and my sister and BIL asked my DH to be her godfather. He is absolutely chuffed to bits, and keeps proudly telling everyone he meets that he has a goddaughter.

My parents both made a point of asking me on the phone during the day if I was OK, and gave me huge long hugs when I arrived at the house in the evening.

When I arrived, #4 was demonstrating the impressive power of her lungs, and she was passed from person to person and happened to fall asleep when I was holding her. I made a comment about how lucky I was that I was the one holding her when she happened to cry herself out, and my sister said, "Don't be silly - we all know that you know what you're doing with babies." Somehow that made me feel really good.

Then in a quiet moment while my parents and other sister were bathing the older children, my sister and BIL asked DH and me how the IVF was going and just took time to show their concern - within 12 hours of my sister giving birth, and after a sleepless night. Their selflessness and generosity just overwhelms me. They also talked about how they agonised over how to tell us about this pregnancy, the discussions they had over it with each other and with my parents, and how hard they tried to find the time and way to tell me that would make it least painful for me.

Jeannie, as you all know from her comments, is wonderful.

And US SIL would be devastated if she knew how her recent e-mails have hurt me, but we haven't seen the US family since all this started, and having sailed through seven problem-free pregnancies (most of which were unplanned), what we're going through is just completely outside her realm of experience.

I was talking to my mother on the phone this morning, and she said she thought I had been very brave over the last few days. I don't feel brave, but I do feel wonderfully supported and cared about by my family and friends - including all of you, so thank you so much for all your lovely caring comments.

Eleven days

Well, the baby didn't arrive on Sunday - or the next day, or the next. My sister went in to be induced yesterday, and UK Niece #4 finally appeared shortly before 2:00 this morning. She was 11 days late, and those 11 days (plus the previous week, after my sister was told the baby was fully engaged and could arrive at any time) have been Baby Central in this family, with daily updates emanating from my sister's neck of the woods and regular e-mails from my US SIL about what a special time this is, what a miracle it is to know that you're carrying a life within you, how great my sister is, how exciting it all is.

And don't get me wrong - it is exciting, my sister is great, and I can't wait to meet #4. I'll be going shopping for some cute little outfit during my lunch break today and hopefully meeting her after work. Happiness and excitement will be all around.

But am I remembering that after #3 was born while we were on our honeymoon, DH and I smiled at each other as we toasted her with champagne and said, "We'll be next"?

Am I remembering that if IVF #1 had been successful, I'd be pretty close to giving birth myself?

Has every one of US SIL's recent e-mails inadvertently pierced me to the heart as they emphasise exactly what I'm missing out on?

Did I turn again to DH after I put the phone down and say once again, "It's our turn next"?

And did I lie awake for an hour after that, thinking about the new baby, thanking God for the new life, but also aching to hold my own baby in my arms, before creeping downstairs to get a glass of milk and my laptop and try to quell the thoughts racing round my tired mind?

Yes to all of the above...

Celebration of life

Five years ago today, my sister went into hospital for a fairly routine operation. It was to be keyhole surgery, and the recovery time was going to be short. My mother was staying at my sister's house to look after my 13-month-old niece.

That evening, I dialled my sister's number. It was my father who answered the phone, and I didn't immediately twig that this was unusual - he was still working full-time at that time, and should have been back at home after a full day's work.

Cheerfully, I said, "Hello Daddy! Is my little sister all right?"

There was a pause, and then the bottom fell out of my world as he replied, "No, I'm afraid she's not." Replaying that conversation in my head, I can still feel the emptiness that settled in the pit of my stomach on hearing those words.

The surgery had gone disastrously wrong, and she was in intensive care. The next 24 hours would be critical. Nobody knew whether she would live, and if she did live, there was a strong chance that the massive blood loss could have caused brain damage. The damage couldn't be assessed until she woke up.

We were talking about that day last weekend. My father asked my sister when she first realised that something had gone horribly wrong, and she replied, "When I woke up and saw you there." Obviously she was quicker on the uptake than I had been!

My father talked about how after the initial shock was over, we started to worry about whether her brain had been damaged. My SIL, who married my youngest brother last year and was hearing many parts of this story for the first time, lightened the mood by asking, "And was it?"

Since those awful days, my sister has had two more children and she and her children have continued to bring love and happiness to the whole family. Today she is a week past her due date with another baby - tired, fed up, anxious for it to come out and meet the world.

What a marvellous celebration of life it would be if the baby arrived today, on this anniversary of the day we almost lost its mother.

The clunking hand of fate

Sometimes, the universe is really heavy-handed in the messages it sends out to us.

While I was working myself into a state of nervous exhaustion over all the uncertainties in my life, Sonja was facing even greater uncertainties with not just the question of a little bit of job uncertainty at stake, but true matters of life and death - and she is facing them, as she has the whole of her very difficult and scary high-risk pregnancy, with such grace and courage.

While I was grumbling that my employers didn't appreciate me, Myndi was dealing with a heartbreaking family crisis.

And while I was weeping on the phone to my mother and telling her that the firm's proposals represented the worst possible scenario, one of my friends was searching an ultrasound monitor in desperate hope of finding a sign that her own worst fears had not been realised.

I had a text last night from this friend, who had recently got her first ever BFP from her fourth fresh IVF cycle. At six weeks, she had the joy of hearing a heartbeat. This week, at a little over 10 weeks, she went for a scan. The baby was small, silent and still. There was no heartbeat. Her body was still clinging on to her precious baby, but the baby had lost its fragile grip on life - another little life over before it had ever really begun.

So OK universe, I get it. I was selfish, overdramatic, and my priorities were temporarily skewed.

Now can we please all have some good news?

An alternative 2WW

Wednesday saw the end of a two week wait of a different kind as I heard a bit more about my employer's proposals for redundancies in my department.

On first hearing, it was the news I had been dreading - several redundancies in the department, but the possibility that I would be required to stay on, possibly with reduced pay, possibly with reduced hours, and certainly with a very different job description. This led to the thought that I wouldn't be able to bear to do that job and would end up resigning, leaving me with no redundancy payoff and no job - as I said when I heard the news, the worst of all possible worlds.

24 hours, various discussions with my boss and a day of teaching one of my favourite groups gave me a different perspective. How could I say that continuing to be paid a pretty decent salary to do a job that will still have elements I enjoy is the worst of all possible worlds? There are people who are losing their homes, losing their savings, struggling to keep their families fed and clothed, and here I am complaining that I might be forced to keep my job.

Yes, it'll be a change. Yes, they're dumping something that I've worked for almost five years to build up from nothing. Yes, I feel hurt and disappointed that these decisions have been made.

But either I'll get a redundancy payout and get the summer off, or I'll still have a job. If I get a reduced hours job, I'll still have decent pay but will have more spare time. And if I get a full time job, I'll be able to save more and perhaps retire earlier, or make plans to do something different, or - and this would be the real dream - take paid maternity leave in a few months' time and then have more choices available to me in terms of how much time I can then spend at home with my child(ren).

On Wednesday I was furious about the stress that I'd been put through and would continue to be put through.

Today I feel tired, a little drained after the drama of the week, desperately in need of a weekend, but also calm and hopeful. There are three options - each of them has its advantages and disadvantages, and I'm beginning once again to be able to focus on the advantages.

I now have a fairly major role to play in the consultation, and at the same time I need to keep my stress levels as low as possible, because high stress means high FSH. I need to take one day at a time and not think about all the ifs, buts and maybes of the next few weeks and months.

It's time to chill and let things happen...

One problem he can solve

When I had my little meltdown the other day, one of the more minor things I told DH I was worried about was this weekend.

We're due to spend Saturday night with DH's oldest friend and drinking buddy, who we haven't seen for a few months. He and his wife don't have children, and don't like children very much (although I do wonder which came first, because I also understand that she had some sort of fertility issues). And every time we've spent the night with them in the past, it's turned into a massive drinking session.

I've raised it a couple of times and said that of course DH can have a couple of drinks, but asked him to exercise moderation. He's laughed it off, and he made a comment to a friend last Sunday that we would be away this Saturday "and a lot of alcohol will be consumed".

I mentioned my concern to him, and he instantly looked contrite and said, "I should have told you earlier and not made jokes about it."

And what he thought he should have told me is that he had already decided that he wouldn't have even the one or two drinks we had talked about, because drinking a limited amount would make his friend suspicious anyway. So he had decided to come clean, tell them that we're not drinking, and explain why. He hasn't yet decided whether to tell them about the two failed IVFs we've already had, but he is going to tell them about the regime we're on at the moment, and that we're preparing for IVF.

I have no idea how the conversation will go on Saturday - whether his friend will be sympathetic or hostile towards the idea, given that he and his wife decided that they didn't want children and would not pursue any sort of fertility treatment; whether his friend will make jokes about DH 'firing blanks' (a distinct possibility, since his friend has rather an off-colour sense of humour); whether they'll accept that we're not drinking or try to persuade him to have 'just one or two' (since he always ends up drinking more than he intended with this friend).

But I'm so grateful that DH has finally hoisted on board how important this is, and is even willing to go further than I would ever have asked him to go in this respect.

Understanding more

One of the things that DH said about that article was that he thought the author was exaggerating when he talked about his wife avoiding places where babies might be - because he's not aware that I've selectively avoided some of my more smug friends who have babies and small children, and we've continued to spend a lot of time with my sister and her children.

It was a real eye-opener for him when I explained that this was not an exaggeration at all. I reminded him of a comment a friend of ours made at a party a couple of weeks ago - she was talking to another friend about two couples who were mutual friends of theirs and said that they don't speak to each other any more. When asked why, she responded sotto voce, "It's because A's pregnant and S and H can't."

And then, while talking generally about the redundancy, IVF and everything else that's crappy in my life at the moment, he revealed how he's been feeling.

As a teenager, he experienced two major upheavals in his life - when he was about 13 or 14, his father had a nervous breakdown, and then a few years later, his brother died. He talked more than he ever has before to me about how he felt on those two occasions, and said that after those two cataclysmic events, the ups and downs of life had never been able to bother him in the same way.

And then he added, "Except the IVF."

He'd never really talked about how he felt, although I was aware that he had high hopes for IVF #1 and was fairly crushed when it failed. But to hear that he ranked that first failure as one of the three cataclysmic events of his life shook me a bit - and also reassured me. He wants this as badly as I do, and not just because he doesn't want me to be upset. But as a man, he's better able to compartmentalise things and push it to the back of his mind when we're not actually going through treatment.

So now each of us understands the other a bit better, and understands how much this means, how much is at stake. And I think I understand why he keeps saying, "This doesn't have to be the last try. If it doesn't work, we can try again."

It's not just for me - he wants it too. And somehow, that makes it all feel so much easier, as if there are two of us carrying this burden, and not - as it has often felt - just me.

Sonja's quads are here!

Many many congratulations to Sonja and her husband on the safe arrival of Sophie, Ethan, Liam and Jude. All four are now in NICU, so I'm hoping and praying that their stay there will be brief and uneventful, that Sonja recovers quickly from her emergency c-section and that the whole family will soon be united at home.

Overwhelmed

I had a mini-meltdown last night - I think I managed to hide it from DH when he made me cry on Sunday, but there was no hiding this one.

I just feel so overwhelmed with uncertainty at the moment.

The biggest question, of course, is will we ever be parents? And that question subdivides into questions like will my FSH be right next month, or the month after? When will our next IVF actually happen? Will I even get the chance to go ahead with IVF at this clinic?

And those questions lead into the question of my brother's visit from the US with his family at the beginning of next month - will we have to fit our treatment round it? Will we be able to go on the seaside family holiday, or will we need to stay in London for daily appointments at the clinic? This matters to me, because I love my American family and don't see them nearly often enough.

And if it doesn't happen next month, will the following month be better? Will I still have a job? Whether I'm made redundant or not, I know we'll cope, but it's the strain of going for two weeks (and counting) having been told I'm at risk of redundancy but having been given no idea of what the firm's proposals are or what the probability is of losing my job that makes it impossible to plan anything. I've obviously managed to put a positive spin on this to my family, because the only comment I got from US SIL was delight at what an exciting time this is for me, but I don't feel excited right now - as I said to DH, at the moment I just feel utterly defeated.

If I do keep my job, will it be changed beyond recognition, so that I'm no longer doing the work that I enjoy?

If I don't keep my job, will I be able to earn enough to make the necessary contribution to the household pot by working freelance? And how am I going to build up the freelance work?

And whether I keep my job or not, the situations that I'm thinking of only make sense if I'm going to get pregnant. As I said to DH last night, if I don't get pregnant, all I am is an unemployed woman who can't have children (or a woman in a job she hates who can't have children, because even if I keep my job, everything is changing, and not in a good way).

And then there are the day-to-day uncertainties - is the course I'm teaching this week going to be the last course ever on this programme that I designed, wrote, and built up from nothing? If so, how much work do I put into updating it, knowing it's never going to be used again?

I discovered yesterday that a colleague had gone behind my back to do something which was the complete opposite of what we had agreed - do I confront him, or does it ultimately not matter because we're both going to lose our jobs anyway?

Even my country seems to be conspiring to keep me in a state of nervous uncertainty, with no parliament formed several days after the general election and the increasing likelihood that an unelected minority is going to ignore the will of the people and seize power, just because they can. And because they'll need the support of the Scottish and Welsh nationalists to form any sort of majority, and because England is solidly Tory and has no devolved parliament, you can bet that any Lib-Lab coalition is going to be better for Scotland and Wales than it is for England. And what worries me about an unstable government is the risk of increased inflation, with the result that our savings won't stretch as far as they would in a stable economy.

So I melted down, and DH held me while I cried, and we talked about the fact that if IVF #1 had worked, I would now be in the situation that my sister is in, and how hard I find that thought, and how hard it is to be kept in limbo over the work situation, and how worried I am that we'll never have children. We talked about the IVF, and I now know that he's not just doing this for me, and I know exactly how much it means to him - that article helped, as he used it as a sort of jumping-off point to compare his thoughts and feelings with the guy who wrote the article.

I don't feel much better today, because all of the uncertainty still remains, and I feel that there's not a single area of my life at the moment which is under my control. But I do know that I'm incredibly lucky to be married to this wonderful, loving man, and I know that whatever happens, we're in it together.

Just another Sunday...

So, after I wrote my post yesterday, I went onto Facebook - and waded through all the 'Happy Mothers' Day' wishes (and it's not even Mothers' Day here!), good wishes to my sister after she updated her status saying that it was her due date, people either boasting or complaining about their children (though I have now hidden the worst offenders) and then came to... another pregnancy announcement.

Went to church, then decided I really must give DH some driving practice, so offered to let him drive to my sister's house. He was nervous, wanting to impress me, and didn't drive well. We managed two miles before he got frustrated with himself, took it out on me, told me it was all my fault that he hadn't been able to concentrate, and reduced me to tears. We've now agreed that although I would love to help him in any way I can, it's probably counterproductive and possibly relationship-damaging for me to take him out practising.

The day could only go up from there, and despite the cold, damp, miserable weather, it did.

We had a lovely time at my sister's - my parents and younger brother and his wife were also there. BIL cooked a superb lunch, we sat around the table chatting for hours, and the children were all on their usual good form.

In the evening, I went on Facebook again, and the friend who had posted her pregnancy announcement in the morning had posted another status update: "Praying today for all those whose dream of motherhood has not been fulfilled", and somehow that made me feel good - a bit less invisible.

And then I went to bed, thinking of Sonja and her four babies, and Egghunt, whose embryo transfer should be today, and hoping and praying that all is going well with both of them.

Ambivalence

When I was a little girl, I had blonde hair and big blue eyes - and three brothers. I used to kneel down every night and pray for a little sister. After my sister was born, my dad always said that I must be responsible for her existence, because how could God resist such heartfelt pleas from a little girl? (Obviously, I'm not cute and blonde any more - maybe that's where I'm going wrong...)

Anyway, my sister came along when I was 7, and from the moment she was born she has been one of my favourite people in the world. Five years ago, she came very close to death when she had an operation that went wrong, and during the long months of her recovery I spent a lot of time either at her house or at my parents' house, looking after her and my niece. She is the family member who lives closest to me, and if we go three weeks without seeing each other, that's a long time.

Today is the due date for her fourth child. I'm so happy that she's still here to be having a fourth child, and I know I'll love this baby as much as I love the other three. I also know she's going to need some help while the baby's very small, and I'm always happy to go to her house and help with bathtime and bedtime, or to have my nieces for a night at my house to give her a break. And since it looks as though I'll be unemployed in a couple of months, it'll be even easier to give her a hand while DH and my BIL are at work.

On Thursday of last week, she had an appointment with the doctor, who said that the baby was fully engaged and could arrive at any moment. As the other three were all at least a week late, she wasn't prepared for this news, and BIL hadn't got any of the baby stuff out of the loft yet. The one thing that concerned her was that she had nothing for the baby to wear if it was born - the cradle and car seat could be got down from the loft while she was in hospital, but as she said, hospitals do prefer babies not to be left naked after they've been born.

So on Thursday afternoon, I nipped out and scoured the shops for something for the baby to wear, just in case. I wanted a pack of babygros, but they were all either pink or blue, and we don't know yet what she's having. So I found a nice little yellow and white outfit, and took that over to her. I then stayed and helped put the children to bed, and told her that I would be available for babysitting duties at any time of the day or night if needed.

Then last weekend DH and I had the children overnight while my sister and BIL got everything down from the loft and sorted it all out, so that by the time they picked the children up the next day, everything was ready.

And ten days after she was told the baby could arrive any minute, we're still waiting. My parents have now arrived and will be staying with her for the duration, so I'm off babysitting duty standby.

The last ten days have been Baby Fever Central - every e-mail mentions it, there's been another one from my SIL saying what a special and precious time this is for my sister, even my friends are now asking me if there's any news whenever I speak to them.

I never knew I could be so excited for someone else and so sad for myself all at the same time.

He's learning...

As DH left the house this morning, he said, "Oh, by the way, I've got a banana and a cheese sandwich with me, so I won't be tempted to have crisps or junk food."

After all these months, he's finally taking responsibility for his own food choices! Perhaps he does listen to some of what I say after all.

(Or perhaps it's just because he made such unhealthy choices on Wednesday and my complaints are still fresh in his ears...)

Lots of talking

I've been busy in the 'real' world the last few days - since Monday was a bank holiday, we were able to have the nieces overnight on Sunday night while my sister and BIL got the baby stuff out of the loft and prepared their house for the arrival of the new baby. We also went to a party on Saturday night, had people over for supper on Sunday, and work is busy this week (especially when I keep finding myself googling stuff about redundancy rights rather than getting on with the job that still needs to be done until the 'consultation' is over).

In between all that, there's been a lot of talking going on. DH read that article the first chance he had after I mentioned it to him. He was then the one who raised it with me, saying he had found it very interesting. I asked if he identified with what the author had said, and he talked about how hard he has found it to raise any of his own doubts or fears about what we've been going through. I think he was relieved to see some of his feelings put into words and to realise that he's not the only one feeling that way.

We also talked again about the Foresight regime - again, raised by DH. We had a wardrobe we wanted to get rid of, and some friends came and took it off our hands on Monday afternoon. DH and my friend's husband carried it downstairs and got it into the car. It then occurred to all of us that my friend wouldn't be able to carry it with her husband up two flights of stairs to their flat, so she stayed and had a cup of tea with me while DH went with the husband to deliver the wardrobe.

When he came back (remarkably quickly), he was very proud of himself and said he was amazed that he had been able to do all that heavy lifting without getting out of puff and working up a huge sweat. He attributed it entirely to the general improvement in his health and fitness since we started the Foresight regime - and I think he's right, as he's actually been going to the gym a lot less since he started learning to drive (and doesn't work particularly hard when he's at the gym anyway).

His general level of health is so much better, he has *ahem* more stamina in the bedroom department, he looks trimmer and fitter, and I'm really hoping that it's had as good an effect on his boys as it has on him. He's also being an awful lot better about keeping his alcohol intake down, although I am allowing him the occasional drink.

And of course, the other thing we've been talking about is how we're going to manage without my salary. This is quite a big deal, as I earn more than twice what he does. We now reckon that we can manage on his salary and my redundancy payout until the end of this year, and have agreed that the time is right for me to have a go at doing freelance work - which will be much less lucrative, but will give me more time and less stress, particularly in the early stages before I build up much of a portfolio of work. Because it can be done at home and is not tied to a particular time of day, it's also something I could continue if and when we have a baby.

And on the having a baby thing, we already have the money earmarked for this next round of IVF. But last night he said, "I don't want you to have the stress of thinking this is our last chance. If we need to have another go after this, I have some savings that we can use for it."

Of course, he's made absolutely no provision for his pension, and it doesn't look as though we'll be building up many more savings in the future, so I'd rather not touch his 'running-away fund'. But as with my dad's offer the other day, it's nice to know he cares that much.

The man's perspective

There was an article in the Times yesterday about infertility and IVF from a man's perspective. I found it interesting (though the comment at the end from the woman at Relate was a bit odd - 'self-service' is only banned for a couple of days leading up to egg collection, surely). I found the comments left by readers equally interesting - there was only one negative comment, and what I thought were some very good responses to it.

DH actually sounded very interested when I told him the article was there (in the print copy, in the Weekend section, this one was accompanied by three others, all talking about the man's perspective on IVF, but I can't see the other ones online). We had a busy day yesterday, but hopefully some time over the next few days he'll get a chance to read the whole feature.

I'll be interested to see what sort of reaction it sparks from him...

Not this month

Yesterday was CD 1, so this morning I dropped into XXXX clinic for a blood test on my way to work.

The call came early in the afternoon. The nurse told me that Mr Miracle Worker had reviewed my results, and because my FSH level was slightly higher than he would like, he did not recommend that I go ahead with treatment this cycle.

I had to press further to get actual numbers - FSH 11.4, oestradiol 143 and LH 7.3. This compares with the monitoring cycle I had in March, where the corresponding numbers were 9.1, 220 and 4.7, and the original tests I had last summer, where the numbers were 13.2, 156 and 5.3.

Looked at in the round, then, these figures are probably the best I've had so far, so I think things are still moving in the right direction.

I pointed out that the oestradiol was quite a lot lower than on the monitoring cycle, and that high oestradiol can artificially reduce the FSH level. The nurse sort of accepted that, but said that it's FSH that they concentrate on. The magic figure for me to cycle is FSH below 10. I did also read in their literature that they don't like to treat women with oestradiol above 200, so I'm pleased that's a lot lower this time.

The FSH still isn't as bad as it was last summer, but is obviously higher than on my monitoring cycle. Since I have shown that I can get an FSH below 10, Mr Miracle Worker doesn't want to treat me in a month when it's above 10.

Am I disappointed? Well, a little - it means more waiting, and there's always the worry that my FSH might never come back down again.

But then again, it allows us to complete the four month Foresight programme before we go into the actual treatment cycle, and DH has promised faithfully that he will stick to the programme for another month and won't get plastered when we go to visit his old drinking buddy in a couple of weeks' time.

And this week has not exactly been stress-free, and the next few weeks won't be too much better, so it'll be better to go ahead with the treatment when things at work are a bit less up in the air.

And it allows me to concentrate on my sister and being available to give her whatever help she needs with the arrival of her latest baby now imminent.

And for as long as we haven't completed this cycle, we still have hope, so in many ways I'm a little afraid to get started, and quite happy in a cowardly sort of way to accept any delays that are forced on us.

So I'm a little bit disappointed, a little bit relieved, and now I have another 25 days to kill before I can go back and try again.

Two people made me cry yesterday...

... but in completely different ways.

The first was one of my colleagues. He has a baby who is almost a year old. After the Big Bosses and the HR person had left the meeting room, we sat and discussed the news we had just heard, how it would affect us and what we might do next.

Everyone in the department knows about our IVF, although I've never had a direct conversation with this guy about it. He was sitting next to me as I said that our savings were a bit depleted because of the IVF and then feebly joked that if we ended up never having children, we wouldn't need much in the way of savings anyway.

He comes in almost daily with complaints of his sleep being disturbed by his baby, and he instantly piped up, "You can have mine."

I couldn't help it - out of nowhere, my eyes welled up and it took a couple of seconds for me to compose myself, especially after another colleague instantly defended me by pointing out to him what a crass comment that was.

And then there was the other end of the scale - when I told my dad about the meeting at work, he said, "I know you've got big expenses coming up, and I don't want this to get in the way of your IVF. If you need money, even if it's a lot of money, come to me first."

And that choked me up so much that it took a couple of seconds for me to be able to thank him, and although I don't ever expect to take him up on the offer, I'm just so grateful that he thought of it and that he obviously really appreciates how important this is to us.

It is well with me

Those were the last words of St Peter Chanel, whose feast day is today, as he lay dying following an attack by an angry mob. I feel they're quite apt as I contemplate the dying embers of my career...

The meeting this morning did not go well. We were put on notice that a 'consultation' period will be beginning in two weeks, at the end of which there 'may' be redundancies. This is lawyer-speak for 'none of you will have a job in a couple of months' time'.

There is a faint possibility that one or two people out of the seven of us will be kept on, but if that happened, the job description would have to be changed beyond all recognition to allow the work to be done by two people - all seven of us are working pretty much flat-out at the moment.

DH and I chatted about it last night, and we came to the following conclusions.

First, we reckon that with the pay that's still coming to me between now and when I get kicked out, together with his salary and what's left of our savings and a bit of belt-tightening, we can probably manage until the end of the year, which gives me a chance to work out what's going to happen next.

Second, it's almost certain that I'll never again earn as much money as I am doing at the moment - and we're both OK with that. He said he'll support me in whatever decision I make about the future - at the moment, freelance work is looking like a possible option, but we'll see.

Third, if my FSH level is OK this month, I'm cancelling the out of town work commitment that would have prevented us going ahead with treatment. Why should I put our possible future on hold for the sake of a job I'm about to lose?

Fourth, if I do keep my job and end up getting pregnant, I'll stay long enough to get maternity leave, then tell them I'm not coming back.

And finally and most importantly - this is not a disaster for us, but an opportunity. I'm angry at the way we've been treated, but excited to see what the future holds.

Wish me luck...

We were told on Monday that the Big Boss wants to see as many members of my department as can make it today, to tell us the result of a review of the department's role. The review has not involved any member of the department - we have not been consulted, and the person who has conducted the review has very little understanding of or respect for what we do. He's the sort of person who can only see value if it can be measured in figures on a spreadsheet - preferably with £ signs in front of them.

Most of us think that there are probably going to be redundancies, and there may also be a fundamental change in the job description of those who are left. As a small, close-knit team, either of these things will cause a lot of upheaval.

On the plus side, if I'm made redundant I'll be able to cancel the event that would otherwise prevent me from doing IVF #3 this cycle.

Unfortunately, I think a doubling or more of my workload is more likely than redundancy, possibly with a shift in emphasis to mean that I get to do more of the stuff I hate and less of the stuff I enjoy.

To say I'm less than excited about today is an understatement.

Hysteroscopy

We had to get up at 4:15 this morning and get the first train into London to get the XXXX clinic in time for my appointment.

The whole experience was very different from the old clinic, where we had our own room with private bathroom in a private hospital when I went for egg collection. Here, we stayed in the waiting room for over an hour after I'd signed the consent forms, then I was led down into the basement and left in a little changing room with 23 pairs of shoes (I counted) and several other people's clothes already in the shelves in neat little piles.

The gown I had to put on was a disposable paper one, and I got a mob cap and a pair of plastic bootees to go with it. Shame DH never got to see me looking so sexy - he stayed in the waiting room, snoozing in one of the overstuffed armchairs, all the time I was downstairs.

I was told Mr Miracle Worker himself was doing the procedure, but if he was, I don't think I saw him - I'm sure I've seen a picture of him in a magazine, and there was nobody looking like that in the theatre when I went to sleep.

After the procedure was over, I was wheeled into the recovery room, along with four other people in beds, some of whom had just had hysteroscopies while others had had egg collection. I was the third on the list, so two of those four beds were added after I came in. There were also two people on recliners who were getting IVIg at the same time.

The nurses were lovely and very attentive, and although I only got a drink and a couple of digestive biscuits rather than the omelette and ice cream I had at the old clinic, this place isn't about the frills, but about what I hope they'll achieve for me.

I did ask yesterday whether it was right that I was having it done before, rather than after, my period, and was told that as I was on the short protocol and the main purpose of this was exploratory, this was correct. So they did all the measurements, had a good look round and removed a couple of polyps that happened to be in there - which makes me feel that I made the right decision to have this done.

As I was leaving, they confirmed once again that it wouldn't be possible for me to have treatment this next cycle if I have to go away for this work thing in a couple of weeks. There's a faint possibility I won't have to, but more about that tomorrow...

Sod's law

On Saturday, we bought some new garden furniture. We were due to be out for most of yesterday, taking the MIL out for lunch for her birthday, but DH had a driving lesson first thing in the morning, so I had a plan to sit out on our new bench reading the Sunday papers while he was gone.

That is, I had that plan until we woke up and looked out of the window. After the beautiful sunshine of the last few days, yesterday morning it poured with rain, and I stood by the back door for several minutes watching the raindrops pooling on our nice new bench.

I couldn't help feeling that the universe was cocking a snook at me. Not only did we have nice new garden furniture that we wanted to try out, but I had watered the lawn on Saturday. And on Sunday, it got another really good soaking.

And that's why I'm not going to buy any baby equipment until I'm pregnant. Preferably several months pregnant. Or maybe I should wait until the baby's actually born. Or until... well, I should be safe if I wait until it's about 18.

I already have a certain amount of baby equipment in my house. It was bought for my nephews and nieces and other visiting babies, and has already been very well used. It will continue to be well used by my sister's children for at least another couple of years. So I should be safe, but I hope this mischievous universe hasn't noticed that it's here.

Party chat

We went to a friend's 50th birthday party last night. It was an absolutely fantastic affair, one of the best parties I've ever been to.

But there are some things that somehow always manage to intrude.

You know how when you've been friends with someone for a while, you get to know several of their friends? And you don't keep in touch with them off your own bat, because you're not really that close, but it's nice to see them when you do happen to meet up?

Well, there were several people in that category at the party last night, and it was great to catch up with them. And because it was the first time I'd seen most of them since I met DH, there was a lot of catching up to do.

Several of them asked if I still had the classic sports car that used to be my pride and joy, and I had to tell them that I had very sadly had to change it for a sensible car (mostly so I could ferry my parents-in-law around - you can't get two octogenarians in the back of what's effectively a two-seater car).

A couple of people nodded wisely and made comments about needing a family car with room to put a baby seat in. I carried on talking about DH's unreasonable dislike for my old car and ignored them, and fortunately they didn't push it.

Then I was in another group. There was a young guy in his twenties there, one of my friend's nephews. Two of the women started teasing him about his parents' desire for grandchildren. There was a bit of light banter, then one of them said, "Of course, if you're not going to have children, you'd better be nice to your nieces and nephews, because they're the ones who'll choose your nursing home."

Cue lots of laughter and merriment and other comments about the possible consequences of never having your own children.

And I smiled and laughed along with everyone else as I quietly died a little bit inside.

Events conspire...

Well, it's been a manic week. I already had more work than I could cope with, then last weekend one of my colleagues called to say he was stuck in Spain because of the Icelandic dust cloud. That meant I had to do his teaching this week, which also meant that I had to update the teaching materials beforehand and make sure I knew what I was talking about.

So this week was ridiculously busy, but I also completed a huge and very high profile job for which I hope I'll get lots of brownie points. Outside work, I managed to see Niece #1 on her birthday and speak to US Nephew #1 on his birthday, and to go to our regular fortnightly pub quiz.

Meanwhile, the course I was due to teach next week has been cancelled for various other reasons, which means I get the brownie points for teaching my colleague's class this week, I get next week to catch up with some of the work I didn't manage to get done because of doing his teaching this week, and because I'm not teaching next week I'm able to take a day off for the hysteroscopy on Tuesday.

I also had a long chat with my mother this morning about the logistics of my brother's visit from the US at the beginning of June. I had to tell her that there was a possibility that we'll be cycling around then, but we've worked out that it should all work out quite nicely around their visit.

So I'm now pretty comfortable with the idea of not going ahead this next cycle (although I'm sad that Egghunt and I won't be cycle buddies again), and I'm left with the idea that without any action or volition on my part, events seem to be conspiring to make all my timings work out quite nicely.

Now, we just need to hope that my body will also co-operate...

Hysteroscopy timing

Like Sonja, I was a little surprised that XXXX clinic wanted to do my hysteroscopy just before my AF.

I'm ridiculously busy at work at the moment, but I managed to take five minutes today to do a little bit of research. XXXX clinic has quite a presence on the net, with its own very active board on at least one of the forums.

XXXX clinic basically recommends that all its patients have hysteroscopies. As I understand it, and as Mr Greek God explained it to me, the main reason for this, apart from the fact that they can identify and deal with any polyps or other uterine abnormalities, is so they can take exact measurements and map out your uterus to enable them to decide on the best position for placing the embryos. Apparently embryo transfer with Mr Miracle Worker can take as much as half an hour, because he's so precise about how the embryos are handled and exactly where they're placed, and he likes to plan it in advance. This is another reason I'm so grateful that Mr Greek God suggested that I could be sedated for transfer.

I have no abnormal bleeding or anything to suggest that I have any problems, my AF is completely regular and no irregularities were detected during all the ultrasounds that I had at the old clinic. So the mapping and measuring is the main function of what's happening next week, and I don't think the lining needs to be super-thin for that.

All of the decisions at XXXX clinic are made by Mr Miracle Worker, having reviewed the information received from all the tests and appointments with the other doctors and nurses. Because he has such fine attention to detail and is so meticulous in preparing for cycles, I have absolute faith that he knows what he's doing and so feel much less inclined to second-guess him than I did Mr No Nonsense.

Having said that, I probably will casually drop the question in when they phone on Monday to arrange the exact time I have to go in on Tuesday - a hysteroscopy is an expensive thing, after all.

One step forward, two steps back

I had a call from Aussie Nurse today. Because I'm doing the short protocol, she now says they want to do the hysteroscopy before AF shows up. That doesn't worry me - it's what I expected, and Aussie Nurse had my file in front of her and knew hysteroscopy was what she was speaking to me about, so had all the information she needed (whereas the nurse I spoke to before was calling me about my immune testing and may have been less on the ball about other plans for my treatment).

I took the opportunity to ask about this next cycle - I'm due to teach a course two or three hours' drive from London on what will probably be CD 13 and 14, and am expected to stay down there for two nights. It's already been rearranged once because of the snow, and postponing it again isn't really an option.

So I asked if that would be a problem, and she instantly said it would. She reiterated that XXXX clinic is different from other clinics, and that they really do monitor you very closely during a cycle. She said unless egg collection happened before CD 13 (which can in no way be guaranteed), they would absolutely require me to go in for blood tests on both of those days, and if I couldn't get out of the trip, she would recommend delaying the cycle.

This is really what I expected as well, and if the decision is taken out of my hands, that's no bad thing. Work is really hectic at the moment, and another month would actually mean that we complete the four month Foresight programme before the treatment cycle. That's a good thing, as the woman I spoke to from Foresight was adamant that we shouldn't actually be trying for a baby until we had completed the treatment. She said that if we did, the quality of our eggs and sperm might have improved enough to get us pregnant, but not to keep us pregnant.

The downside is that it's another month's wait. Aussie Nurse said I could go in for a blood test when AF shows up and decide on the basis of what that says. Part of me thinks that after getting FSH under 10 in my monitoring cycle, if it's also under 10 this cycle, especially if it continues the downward trend from last time, then perhaps my situation isn't as dire as Mr No Nonsense thought it was, in which case another month's wait would be less of a problem.

In any case, she said if I have the hysteroscopy before this AF shows up, the results will still be valid for the following cycle if we decide not to go ahead - but I'll have it out of the way if we are able to go ahead.

So I'm booked in for a hysteroscopy next Tuesday, then when AF shows up - probably on Thursday or Friday - I'll have a blood test and see what it tells us.

But it looks as though this cycle is not going to be The One. And that's OK, because I don't feel as though the timing is right yet. Hopefully May will work out better...

A measure of peace

Actually, I could equally well have called this 'the calm before the storm'.

We could be starting IVF #3 in ten days from now. XXXX clinic's treatment is like no other that I've heard of - daily blood tests all the way through treatment, increasing to twice daily during the second week of stimming, with regular scans also needing to be fitted in and drug dosage being tailored to your blood test results daily. Every account I've read says that it's beyond exhausting, and in the second week you really can't concentrate on anything but following Mr Miracle Worker's instructions.

So we could have just ten more days of normality before the storm hits us. This weekend the weather was gorgeous - despite having to work all day Saturday, I enjoyed looking out of the study window to see the sunshine, and then yesterday we spent the afternoon in my sister's garden celebrating Niece #1's birthday.

The sunshine was great, I ate what I wanted, and #1 wanted party games, so we thought up endless games to play, laughed at the silly Mad Libs we made up, and generally enjoyed #1's exuberance and excitement at being (nearly - her birthday is tomorrow) 6.

When we got home, I had a long soak in a hot bath with a mug of hot milk close to hand and some good reading matter to keep me entertained.

And I realised that for the moment, life doesn't get better than this. It was a perfect day, and I need to appreciate and savour these perfect days as they come along, without ruining them by thinking of what might or might not be in the future.

So I have ten more days of living in the moment, and even though work will be busy, I can still enjoy the emergence of spring, the moments of fun and laughter, and spending time with my lovely DH in the evenings.

I can't change what will be, so I'm determined to try not to worry about it, but just to enjoy this time, and treat it as a time of living, and not a time of waiting.

A busy week for phone calls

I've had another phone call that has made me feel better. My brother in the US, who has seven children and has not always made the most sensitive comments about this whole affair, phoned me up. Normally, the infertility/IVF thing is not mentioned at all, and since we haven't been making big announcements about all our appointments, there's no real reason for him to have brought it up now.

But after a bit of chit-chat, he suddenly asked how it was all going and what our next plans were, and rather than being all doctor-y and giving me slightly-more-knowledgeable-than-that-of-the-average-person-but-let's-not-forget-he's-not-a-fertility-specialist advice, he just listened, asked questions and made sympathetic noises.

And then he said, "It's sometimes hard for [SIL] and me to know what to say, because we're worried that anything we do say will sound a bit hollow, but we want you to know that we both think of you such a lot, and that all the family are constantly praying for you."

I'm not sure if he was also conscious of the timing and that's why he suddenly spoke up out of the blue, but I'm so pleased he said it. Between this and the conversation with my mother yesterday, I feel so much more supported.

I told my mother

I was talking to my mother this morning about plans for the next couple of months, which are pretty hectic with my sister's baby due and my brother and SIL and their seven children coming over from the US on holiday.

I mentioned that I wasn't always finding the excitement about my sister's baby easy, because of the fact that I found out she was pregnant the day I realised I had lost Rucksack and Ray-Ray. And she said that she'd been thinking about that too, and wishing that she could do something to help.

I'm so glad I brought it up, because I don't think she would have done, and we actually had a really good talk - about next steps at XXXX clinic, our adoption plans if this doesn't work, and about my sister's situation.

I want to make it clear that I know my sister's situation is also not ideal - her husband works long hours and usually doesn't get home during the week until after the children are in bed, this fourth baby was unplanned, they don't have a lot of space in their house, and she has her own health issues. This baby will be loved and welcomed by everyone, but it does make her life more complicated. And the reality is that being pregnant when you didn't want to be can be as difficult and life-changing as not being pregnant when you did want to be.

Anyway, we had a really good talk, and I now realise that although they never made it beyond the bunch-of-cells stage, Rucksack and Ray-Ray (and little Viennetta) have not been forgotten. And knowing that somehow makes it easier to look forward to the birth of my next nephew or niece with a whole lot more positivity.

Superstition

Thank you for all your lovely comments to my last post - I do feel better about things now (probably because there have been no more of those e-mails since I wrote it).

I realised this morning how relaxed I've become about waiting for this IVF cycle. I felt a bit crampy and wondered why, and it took me a minute or two to twig that it's that time again and I'm having ovulation pains.

I'm also feeling relaxed about the idea that it would take a miracle of Lazarus rising from the dead proportions for us to conceive without help. My back is now sufficiently recovered to consider a bit of light exercise, and DH had just the perfect sort of exercise in mind. And we've just been enjoying it, without any thought about timing, or whether or not he manages to produce the goods, or any of the other things I've stressed about over the last couple of years. So I know I won't get pregnant this month, but somehow that thought isn't wiping the satisfied smile off my face...

I'm also looking towards the end of the month and thinking about this cycle that may be starting in a couple of weeks. Workwise, the timing is not ideal, and some aspects of it might be very difficult. I'm thinking that I'll have the blood test on CD 1 anyway, and just see what happens. My FSH level might be too high, or there might be some other reason not to go ahead, and at the moment I don't think that'll disappoint me too much, because it'll give me another month(ish) to keep taking the supplements and preparing myself mentally, and my work commitments are not quite so difficult to get round in late May/early June (although there are other things going on in early June that will make it difficult to be in London as much as I'd need to be for a treatment cycle, so maybe late June/early July would be best).

I suppose one of the things that makes me hesitant is superstition. You see, about a year ago, a lot of people on the TTC forum I was posting on were getting 'angel readings' from some woman over the internet. You'd go onto her website, pay something like £15 and leave your e-mail address, with no other details, and she would do a reading and e-mail it to you.

Now, as far as I know, there is nothing on that TTC forum to link my username to my real name and e-mail address. And I deliberately went onto her site through Google, rather than clicking any links that people had put on the forum. So other than the fact that she'd been discussed on this forum, and that a lot of women had consulted her in a short space of time who all wanted to know the same thing, there was no way for her to know what I wanted from her.

The response that I got immediately identified that I was worried about whether I would ever have children. She also picked up that my age was a concern and made a couple of other accurate statements about my situation.

I thought at the time, after a year of TTC, that her comments about the pain I had suffered as a result of being unable to conceive were a bit over the top. Of course, since then the pain has been piled on in bucketloads, and a year later I don't think her comments are over the top at all.

Anyway, she said that she was getting a very strong message that I would have a baby, and that it would be loved and welcomed by all my friends and family. And she said that July felt like a very important date to her, but she couldn't work out whether I would conceive in July or get my BFP in July.

This time a year ago, July seemed ages away, and I hoped she was wrong and that I would conceive earlier - but of course, I didn't.

And so now, with another July really not so far away and seeming like the clearest month for me to have treatment in, I'm slightly paralysed with this fear that she might have been right, and that if we go ahead with a cycle before then, it won't work because the timing isn't right.

The sensible part of me says that I'm not getting any younger. Mr Greek God was very clear that he thought as soon as my FSH was right, we should go ahead, because it might be our only chance. And there are other good reasons not to delay deliberately, like the difficulty of keeping us both on this strict dietary regime for that length of time, and the fact that Mr Miracle Worker likes the actual treatment cycle to be as close as possible to the monitoring cycle so that he can use the information that he got from the monitoring cycle to indicate the best course of treatment for the real thing.

But this stupid reading is really messing with my head. I know I should never have had it done in the first place, but the fact that it said several things which were accurate and which the woman couldn't have known in any way I can explain pulls me up short and makes me wonder if I should wait. And then I keep trying to convince myself that maybe the cycle month isn't important, because last July was a significant date for us in that it was the month we finally got tested and joined the IVF rollercoaster.

OK, so maybe the fact that barely an hour goes by without me thinking about these things means that I'm not quite as relaxed as I think I am. And maybe that's another good reason not to delay any further. I'm just kind of hoping that the decision will be taken out of my hands, one way or the other...

I'm a horrible person

I'm sure everyone's fed up with my whinging recently - I'm fed up with it myself. But here's another whinge...

When my family send e-mails to each other, we generally copy in the whole family so that we all keep in touch and know what everybody's up to. My sister's due date is coming up early next month, and every e-mail that my SIL in the US sends has a special message for her at the end. Sometimes it's just to send love to her in particular, other times it's talking about what a wonderful time this is in her life, or to let her know that they're thinking of her.

And of course, there was lots of attention and special care and talking about when the baby comes when we were with the family at Easter.

I truly don't begrudge her any of it. I'm happy that she's having this baby, and when the baby comes, I'll love it as much as I love all my nephews and nieces.

But...

Apparently I'm the only person who remembers that the day I found out she was pregnant was also the day I realised that IVF #1 had failed. The only person who ever thinks that if it had worked, if my little embies had been able to cling on in there, I'd only be a few weeks behind her now.

Obviously, I don't want anyone bringing the mood down by putting reminders of that in family e-mails. Nor do I want anyone to stop thinking of her and praying for her at this special time in her life.

I don't really know what I want. But what I do know is that every time I see another group e-mail sending special love to her, it feels like I've been stabbed in the chest. And then I feel guilty for being such a horrible person. I suppose it would just be nice to have some sort of private acknowledgement from someone that this could be a difficult time for me.

But in this hyperfertile family, how can I expect them to understand how I feel? I know if I told anyone I was feeling this way, I'd be told to pull myself together and stop being so self-centred. I'm trying, and I'll never breathe a word of how I feel to any of my family (except Jeannie, who reads this blog), but however much I repress it, I can't help feeling this way at times.

Fantastic news!

Congratulations Myndi!!!

Money talk

You may have noticed blogging was a bit light at the end of last week. This is partly because work has been very busy, but mainly because DH's father has been in hospital since Thursday, so the Family Taxi Service has come into operation in a big way (and DH has realised all on his own how much easier life will be when he can drive).

So we've been driving over to his parents' house, which is about 20 miles away, to pick his mother up, and then most of the time I've been dropping DH and his mother off at the hospital and finding a convenient place to wait for them until they're ready to be picked up, because the parking at the hospital is ruinously expensive and there's no other parking available within walking distance.

The great thing about all this time in the car with DH is that it's a great time to talk. And you know what our discussions always come round to in the end...

On Saturday, it started off as a conversation about how SIL would really like MIL and FIL to move closer to her, but they're reluctant to leave the house that they've lived in for over 40 years. We talked about how they had scrimped and saved, and how much it had stretched them to pay £4,500 for that house. This got onto talk about savings generally, and about what their purpose is, how they should be spent, and ... the cost of IVF.

Yes, there we are, it only took four moves to get from "MIL and FIL are getting old and we're worried about them" to "how many more IVFs are we going to have?"

I've been really nervous about this next IVF. I'm excited, because I think we're in the right place now and that if anybody can get us pregnant, Mr Miracle Worker and his team can. DH and I are agreed that IVF #1 and #2 weren't a total waste, because they were the right course at the time with the knowledge that we had, and they taught us that we are the sort of problem case that needs a bit more help than that clinic gives. But in many ways it feels as though we're starting again with the vastly different approach that they have at XXXX clinic. I have huge hope for this round, and I'm excited to get started.

At the same time, I'm terrified. For as long as we don't get started, I have hope - huge, crazy amounts of hope. I even had my first ever BFP dream recently. I've been calculating how far along I'll be at particular times, thinking about how and when I'm going to tell people, thinking again about names... And then I catch myself up short and think, "We agreed that we'd have three attempts, and this is our final one. And we're running out of money, and this treatment is likely to be twice as expensive as an IVF at the old clinic. What if it doesn't work?"

On Saturday, I tentatively suggested that if this next IVF doesn't work, but we get a better vibe from it than the previous ones, I'd be tempted to try a fourth time. I said that the two IVFs at the other clinic were totally different and that IVF #3 felt like a whole new thing, and I wasn't sure if it was fair only to give it one chance.

And DH agreed! He said he'd been thinking the same thing, and that at this stage, he didn't think we should rule anything in or out - we'll wait and see what happens, and if IVF #4 feels like the right thing to do, then we should do it. Or if moving on to apply for adoption feels like the right thing, then we should do that.

This communication thing is amazing! I feel so much better about everything now. We also talked about the whole not-sticking-to-the-programme thing, and we've agreed some ground rules on that too - although I think I just have to accept that he's going to continue to make me out to be the baddie in front of other people when he wants something he's agreed not to have.

And a bigger mortgage and no savings won't be such a bad thing - we'll just have to keep working for a bit longer...

Planning again

I had a call from the clinic during the week. It was the nurse I spoke to about my immune test results - she had a note on my file that she'd left me a message, but had forgotten to record that I had called her back, so was calling to check that I knew the results.

We discussed what happens next. Mr Miracle Worker likes to do hysteroscopies as close as possible to the start of stimming. Since I'm on the short protocol again and I won't be able to start stimming unless my FSH is at the right level, this gives a pretty small window of opportunity.

So the nurse said I should call them in a week or two just so they know they're expecting me. Then I go in for a blood test and a scan on CD 1. Assuming those are OK, they do a hysteroscopy on CD 2, then I start injecting on CD 3.

I was a little bit taken aback by this and said, "Ummm, isn't doing a hysteroscopy on CD 2 a bit, ummm ... messy?"

I don't think she really got what I meant and just said, "No, it'll be fine. Don't worry about it."

She obviously hasn't seen the Niagara Falls that is my AF on CD 2, and I'm really not very excited at the thought of all those tourists visiting the Falls that day.

The perfect family

I have a friend to whom everything in life has come easily. She sailed through school, went to one of the top universities in the country, won prizes in her professional exams, met her husband at university, fell pregnant with her first child the minute she stopped taking the pill, and was pregnant again as soon as she decided she wanted a second.

Her Facebook status updates are all about how brilliant and amazing her first child is - and recently we've had loads of updates about how eager she is to meet her new baby, how she really hopes to go into labour soon, and then asking for prayers as she goes through labour (pausing in her journey to the hospital only to update her Facebook status).

And now she's had her perfect second child - she has a boy and a girl, with the perfect age gap between them, and her perfect life continues.

She, of course, advised me that I should just relax and it would happen. She also told me about her friend who got pregnant as soon as she started the application process for adoption, and her other friend who got pregnant naturally after a failed IVF. Apparently the only reason I haven't had a baby yet is because I have the wrong attitude.

Can I just say how much it stuck in my throat to write 'Congratulations' on her Facebook page yesterday?

Henpecked

The story goes that there are two queues at the pearly gates for men to get into Heaven. One of the queues is for henpecked husbands, and it stretches for miles and miles and miles. The other queue, for husbands who reckon they have never been henpecked, has never had anybody standing in it - until the day St Peter notices one grey-haired little man nervously standing there on his own.

St Peter rushes up to the man and shakes him by the hand, saying, "This is amazing! We've never had anybody in this queue before! Every man in Paradise is going to want to shake you by the hand! Tell me, how is it that you come to be standing here?"

And the little man clears his throat nervously and in a low voice, he says, "My wife told me to stand here."

Unfortunately, my DH thinks it's highly amusing to give everyone the impression that he's henpecked - and my family have swallowed it hook, line and sinker, and all keep telling me to give him a break and not to be so bossy with him. I told him on Sunday night how much it bothers me, and he agreed that he was being unfair, that he was playing it up and giving them an unfair impression - and then he did exactly the same thing again on Monday.

We've agreed together that we want to have a baby. We both have issues - and although I've tried to shield him from it in an attempt to boost his confidence, his sperm count is one of the worst I've heard about in all the reading I've done. We both agreed to do something about it, and we both agreed to get this hair analysis done and to take the recommended supplements. And we've seen that it is having an effect - which is why I'm anxious for us both to continue doing it for the full recommended length of time and not start backsliding and undo the good that we've already done.

So why is it that when he's with my family, he'll either completely ignore the things we've agreed to do (so that I either have to bite my tongue and see the good work of the last couple of months be undone in a couple of days or say something and be seen as the bad guy) or he'll be on the verge of accepting something he knows full well he shouldn't have and will then turn to me with a rather pathetic look and say "Am I allowed to have this?" (again, making me out to be the bad guy)?

And then my parents and my sister will say to me, "Leave the poor chap alone - he can make his own decisions" - completely ignoring (or unaware of) the fact that we made these decisions together.

So DH gets all the support and sympathy because he finds it hard to follow the programme that we have - let me say this again - BOTH agreed to, and my family are all criticising me for getting upset when he goes back on our agreement.

And does he think I find it easy to follow the programme? We're both giving up things we enjoy, and if this works, I'll be giving them up for a lot longer than he has to.

So that's why I'm so grateful for the support that you all give me, because sometimes it feels as though in real life, I have no support at all.

Right decision - probably

Well, AF was due on Good Friday, and the original plan involved staying at home until Saturday so that I could get a blood test at the clinic on Saturday morning before heading off to visit my parents.

Having decided not to go ahead with this cycle, we left home on Friday morning, picked up DH's parents and dropped them at his sister's house, then got to my parents' house in time to go to church with the family.

And as for AF - the old witch didn't show up until Saturday morning! I'm taking this as a good sign - my cycles have got shorter over the last year or so, and had settled at about 25 or 26 days, with heavy spotting for two or three days before AF showed up. Since we started the new regime, I've had no spotting. The last two cycles were 26 days, and this one was 27. I know when I ovulated, and it seems that what is getting longer is the luteal phase, which was on the short side - getting more normal in length is good, I think.

But if I'd been hanging around at home waiting for a blood test, I would have been very frustrated and concerned at AF not showing up bang on time, and it really would have ruined all my plans for the weekend, so I'm glad I made the decision I did last week.

Apart from the erratic behaviour of AF, the weekend was good - but I'm very anxious that we should be able to go ahead with the next cycle, because I'm not sure my nerves can take much more of DH's cavalier attitude. On Easter Sunday, I said we could both have a bit of a break from being strict about our regime. For me, this meant a couple of pieces of chocolate and half a glass of champagne. For DH, it meant eat what you like with no pretence at moderation, and drink three pints of bitter and a couple of large glasses of wine.

By the time he rolled back from the pub, I was already in bed, fighting back tears and wondering whether there was any point in continuing to do this if he won't take it seriously. I did cry when he walked in, and I think that was a good thing, as it made him realise how much this is bothering me, and that it's not something I can do on my own. He promised to try harder to avoid alcohol and not to go over the daily recommended limit again until we finish with this regime - as I said to him, it's only four months out of our lives, but if he won't commit to doing it for those four months, we might as well give up now.

But we've arranged to go and see an old friend of his in the middle of May - and this friend ALWAYS gets him drunk. He won't want to say why he's not drinking, so I can guarantee that he'll be getting plastered that day. And then there's the World Cup, and my brother in the US is visiting in early June, and the occasions when DH is going to find it hard to say no to a drink are going to multiply.

So I think it was the right decision to postpone our treatment cycle this month - but I really hope we can go ahead next month, before DH drives me totally batty.

Absolution

This being Holy Week, I went to a penitential service last night, followed by Confession for the first time since Holy Week last year.

Of course, a lot has happened since last Easter, and in particular we found out that we weren't going to get pregnant without help and I agonised over making the decision to go ahead with IVF in spite of my Church's teaching.

So I was a little trepidatious about going to Confession, to say the least. I wasn't even sure if I could ask for absolution or say the Act of Contrition, because to do either of those things, you have to promise that you'll try not to sin again - and if doing IVF is a sin, then I had every intention to sin again.

I explained the situation to the priest, and said I knew the Church taught that it was wrong, but I saw it as a medical solution to a medical problem, that we had made sure no embryos were discarded in the process, and that because it had failed the first two times, we were planning to do it again.

I then waited for him to tell me he wasn't able to absolve me. He was hearing Confessions at the front of the church, in full view of the congregation, and I wondered if I would be able to get out of the church before the tears began and I made a complete fool of myself.

This priest is a man for whom I have great respect. He is holy, thoughtful, and you can tell that he puts a lot of thought and a lot of love for God and for his congregation into his sermons. He paused a while before he spoke, and I knelt there trembling.

And then he said that he thought I had misunderstood the Church's teaching. That if we had a medical problem, it was not sinful to seek medical treatment for it, as long as we made sure that human life was respected in the process.

And then he said, "I want you to have more faith in God's love and His forgiveness." And I did cry, but they were tears of happiness and relief.