The events of the past week have got me thinking.
This round of IVF has been incredibly hard on me, both physically and emotionally. It's also been very hard emotionally on my husband and several members of my family. I expected the emotional upheaval, but the physical side has been so much worse than I thought it would be - I think largely because of the huge rhinoceros doses I was on of all the drugs (and maybe a little bit because I'm a bit of a wimp).
And all that was for nothing. The emotional ups and downs, the physical downs and more downs, the complete breakdown on Monday, the having to tell people that we'd failed. All for nothing.
And then there's the other big news of the week. My sister didn't plan this new baby. As far as all my family is concerned, every baby is a blessing, but this one came as a bit of a surprise to her. When her husband asked what she thought they should call it, she responded, "I think we should call it a day."
Up till now, I've always been her emergency back-up, and have loved the fact that she would call on me first when she needed help. My brother-in-law works long hours and finds it hard to get away from work. So when my youngest niece had to go to A&E earlier this year, I was the one who left work and met them at the hospital to take the middle one off my sister's hands and then pick the eldest up from school.
Her children come to stay for the weekend and we each think we're being done a favour - she gets a weekend to herself, and I get to have fun with my nieces.
I often go round to help bath them and put them to bed, and whenever there's a meeting at the school, or she has to help out at playgroup, or she has to go to a work do with my brother-in-law, or any of the dozens of other things that crop up, I'm the first person she'll ask to babysit. And I almost always manage to juggle work and other commitments and say yes, because I love my nieces and am always happy to spend time with them.
If I had a baby or babies of my own, it might be harder for me to drop everything for her. And with number 4 coming along, she's likely to need help more, rather than less, often.
And then there's the other thing. We want to be in the lives of all our nephews and nieces, and with nephews in South Africa and nephews and nieces in the US, the only way we can do that is with regular travel.
We've put our lives on hold since we started TTC, and put off planning our next trip to South Africa two or three times. Our latest trip has now had to be cancelled, and I'm gutted that I won't be able to spend time with my brother and my lovely sister-in-law and get to know my nephews again. Their younger son is my godson, and he was not quite 11 months last time I saw him, so although he knows I'm his godmother, he has no real memories of me at all.
Then there's the cost. Travel is expensive, we need to provide for our retirement, and there must come a point when it becomes downright wrong to spend any more money on fruitless treatments. If we have two more cycles of IVF, we'll have spent close to £20,000 on trying to have a baby. My first house (well, flat) only cost £24,500 - that puts it in perspective.
I can remember all too well what it's like to live hand to mouth - in fact, I can remember what it's like to go hungry for three days because you miscalculated when your next money was coming in and had no food in the house and nothing with which to buy any more. And here we are now, throwing away our hard-earned savings on a dream which may never be realised.
So maybe all this is God's way of gently telling me that I should just appreciate the time I have with my nephews and nieces and forget about trying to change the status quo by putting my body and my husband through all of this again - and in all probability getting the same result at the end anyway.
Then again, maybe this is just my current state of emotional and physical exhaustion speaking, and maybe I'll be able to face the next cycle with renewed hope and vigour after a bit of a break. And as we said when all this started, maybe this IS the rainy day we've been saving for, and it'll all be worth it in the end.
Either way, I just wish I knew whether it was worth bothering to continue. Because if there isn't a baby at the end of all this, it most certainly isn't.
Saturday, 31 October 2009
Friday, 30 October 2009
Official Test Day
During Insomnia Hour, I lay completely still, gazing at the ceiling. My stomach was cramping, and my temperature had dropped for the third day running. The spotting/bleeding increased yesterday to the level where I had to change the pad a couple of times, although it was still old brown blood.
In my rational mind, I knew it was all over - I've known since Monday, and confirmed it with the negative test on Wednesday. But so many people told me not to give up hope until Official Test Day.
I needed a wee, but still I lay there. As long as I hadn't got up and done the test, I could imagine that it might still go the other way. AF was like Schrodinger's cat. Until I had done the test, Rucksack and Ray-Ray were both alive and dead, but once that test box was open, there was no going back - they would be either one way or the other.
I eventually fell back into a restless sleep. I dreamt that I was talking to a little boy who was on his way home from his second day at school. We were waiting for a train, and as it pulled into the platform he said, excitedly, "You know what was on the floor of this carriage when the train came in yesterday? (Dramatic pause) BLOOD!!"
Then DH brought me a cup of tea, and it was time to get up. Reluctantly, I dragged myself into the bathroom and peed in a cup. My fingers shook as I struggled with the cellophane wrapping of the test box, and I felt sick with apprehension.
Finally, I managed to dip the test. It was a digital test, and the little egg timer began to flash. I emptied the cup and cleaned it out, then sat down and watched the egg timer as it winked at me. My mind was blank.
And then the answer came up: "Not Pregnant".
The box has been opened, and there's no more in-between stage. I never even saw my babies. They probably never got any bigger than a few cells each. But they were half my husband's DNA, and half mine, and they lived. And now they're dead.
I'll ring the clinic later to tell them and see what we do next. I haven't taken my Cyclogest, so AF should be here in full force soon. But in the meantime I'm sitting here remembering how happy we were when we heard we had three little embryos, how proud my DH was and the excitement and anticipation we both felt when we knew they were inside me where they belonged.
I couldn't keep them safe. I couldn't nurture them and help them to grow. The clinic did its job and got us as far as it could. I'm the one who let them down.
Bye-bye babies - you may have been only tiny little specks, but we'll never forget you.
In my rational mind, I knew it was all over - I've known since Monday, and confirmed it with the negative test on Wednesday. But so many people told me not to give up hope until Official Test Day.
I needed a wee, but still I lay there. As long as I hadn't got up and done the test, I could imagine that it might still go the other way. AF was like Schrodinger's cat. Until I had done the test, Rucksack and Ray-Ray were both alive and dead, but once that test box was open, there was no going back - they would be either one way or the other.
I eventually fell back into a restless sleep. I dreamt that I was talking to a little boy who was on his way home from his second day at school. We were waiting for a train, and as it pulled into the platform he said, excitedly, "You know what was on the floor of this carriage when the train came in yesterday? (Dramatic pause) BLOOD!!"
Then DH brought me a cup of tea, and it was time to get up. Reluctantly, I dragged myself into the bathroom and peed in a cup. My fingers shook as I struggled with the cellophane wrapping of the test box, and I felt sick with apprehension.
Finally, I managed to dip the test. It was a digital test, and the little egg timer began to flash. I emptied the cup and cleaned it out, then sat down and watched the egg timer as it winked at me. My mind was blank.
And then the answer came up: "Not Pregnant".
The box has been opened, and there's no more in-between stage. I never even saw my babies. They probably never got any bigger than a few cells each. But they were half my husband's DNA, and half mine, and they lived. And now they're dead.
I'll ring the clinic later to tell them and see what we do next. I haven't taken my Cyclogest, so AF should be here in full force soon. But in the meantime I'm sitting here remembering how happy we were when we heard we had three little embryos, how proud my DH was and the excitement and anticipation we both felt when we knew they were inside me where they belonged.
I couldn't keep them safe. I couldn't nurture them and help them to grow. The clinic did its job and got us as far as it could. I'm the one who let them down.
Bye-bye babies - you may have been only tiny little specks, but we'll never forget you.
Thursday, 29 October 2009
Ten things I learnt yesterday
- The reason the packet of Giant Chocolate Buttons is resealable is because if you eat them all in one go, you end up feeling very sick.
- Realising that this is going to happen when you're halfway through the packet doesn't make you stop eating if there isn't someone there physically yanking the packet out of your hand.
- Going on Facebook and reading half a dozen people's whinges about what time-sucking and badly-behaved parasites their children are doesn't help you to feel any better about a failed IVF cycle.
- I still have enough self-control not to have responded to those whinges with my own little rant, despite really really wanting to.
- Realising the symptoms are not caused by pregnancy doesn't make them go away.
- When the universe decides to crap on you, it doesn't do things by halves. The BFN was not the only crappy news I got yesterday.
- It's a good job my boss is so understanding, because knowing I'm not pregnant hasn't made it any easier to concentrate on my work than suspecting I wasn't pregnant did.
- Some people will burble on about how tragically short life is after the death of a 95-year-old, and I find it hard to sympathise with their loss simply because of the way they've expressed it.
- I'm not as nice a person as I'd like to be (see 8 above).
- And just to end on a positive note - normal tea with caffeine in it tastes considerably better than Redbush tea.
Wednesday, 28 October 2009
I cracked
I did it - I peed on a stick. Today is 12 DP2DT, or 14 DPO. I've never had a luteal phase longer than 14 days.
You've never seen anything so white and pristine as that results window. There was no point twisting and turning it, holding it closer to the window or holding it under a lamp. It was blank, empty, white as the driven snow.
I'm OK about it at the moment. I just felt numb as I sat there watching the control line get darker and the test window get whiter in comparison. I did all my crying on Monday, and in my heart of hearts I knew that the little bit of hope I had was in vain. Like I said, I know my body - even when it's pumped full of crap that gives me symptoms I've never had before.
For the record, and because I couldn't find anything like this when I was frantically googling over the last few days, here are the symptoms I've had which I can now put down to the Cyclogest and possibly also to the impending arrival of AF:
You've never seen anything so white and pristine as that results window. There was no point twisting and turning it, holding it closer to the window or holding it under a lamp. It was blank, empty, white as the driven snow.
I'm OK about it at the moment. I just felt numb as I sat there watching the control line get darker and the test window get whiter in comparison. I did all my crying on Monday, and in my heart of hearts I knew that the little bit of hope I had was in vain. Like I said, I know my body - even when it's pumped full of crap that gives me symptoms I've never had before.
For the record, and because I couldn't find anything like this when I was frantically googling over the last few days, here are the symptoms I've had which I can now put down to the Cyclogest and possibly also to the impending arrival of AF:
- Night sweats starting pretty much as soon as I started the Cyclogest (that should have been a clue, I suppose)
- Temperatures higher than I've ever had before, remaining high past my usual AF day but with occasional dips
- Nausea, particularly when I wake up during the night
- Unusual hunger patterns - feeling light-headed and shaky if I hadn't eaten for a few hours and needing to eat NOW
- Smell and taste aversions - things that I usually enjoy smelling or tasting weird
- Cramps and pulling feelings in my lower abdomen
- Sore boobs - though the soreness diminished after about 8 DPT/10 DPO
- Very light brown spotting from 8 DPT/10 DPO onwards (still going on this morning)
- Delayed AF
- Frequent urination - much more than I think was justified by the extra amount I was drinking
- Extreme exhaustion - I can't stay up past about 9:00, and would be happy to go to bed at 7. I also have a huge energy dip in the middle of the afternoon, when all I want to do is curl up in a ball and go to sleep
- Mood swings and crying much more easily than I usually do
So, there you have it. I'll test again on Friday so that I can call the clinic and tell them it's all over, and we'll see where we go from there.
My new hope is that the Cyclogest prevents my AF from turning up in full flow until I stop taking it. If AF shows up this weekend or later and the next cycle is at least 26 days (last month it was only 24 days, so that's not guaranteed), there's a chance I could fit in another cycle in late November/early December around my work. I just need to be able to guarantee that egg collection wouldn't be on or before the training day that I'm organising at work for 4 December, because I can't get out of that.
The positives that have come out of this cycle are that because we got as far as we did, got a decent number of eggs and had two embryos to transfer, hopefully the clinic will be willing to give us another try. It's only a couple of months since I was in the depths of despair, thinking that we wouldn't even be given the chance to start the treatment. To have got as far as we did is already a bit of a miracle.
I'm hoping we'll get an even bigger miracle next time, but I'll never forget Rucksack, Ray-Ray and little Viennetta, who gave me hope and made me believe that I might still be a mother one day.
How did we get here?
I read a post the other day - I'm not going to link to it, because I'm not arguing with the post in itself, but would like to give another side to the picture - which said that a person in her 20s shouldn't be struggling with infertility. To me, the post said "it's understandable that people in their late 30s and early 40s go through this, because they've selfishly concentrated on other things and left it too late - whereas I don't deserve this at all, and it's not fair".
I agree with the second part of that - it is completely unfair that anybody, at any age, should struggle to do what should be the most natural thing on earth.
And the first part of it is what the media tell us pretty much every day - women are having children later because they're being selfish and putting their careers and their hedonistic lifestyles first, and some of them just leave it too late and then expect to receive help and sympathy when they suddenly decide they want children.
I have to say, that message we're constantly being fed that it's somehow our fault makes my blood boil.
I've said before that all I ever wanted in life was to be a wife and mother. I imagined myself having at least two or three children before I was 30, and going on to have six or seven.
Unfortunately, that wasn't the plan that God had for me.
I had a serious boyfriend while I was at university, but he was jealous and controlling, and I finally realised that he was not good for me.
Then there was the guy I thought for a long time (even for many years after we split up) was the love of my life. I wouldn't have sex before marriage, so he "serviced his man machine" (his words) somewhere else and ended up getting the other woman pregnant. The two consolations for me in that were first that I'd found out what he was like before we got married, and secondly that his two children were the ugliest and most unappealing babies I've ever seen (in fact, the only ugly and completely unappealing babies I can ever recall having seen).
There were a few other brief relationships which went nowhere - the sticking point was very often my Catholicism or, specifically, my refusal to sleep with the person before marriage, but I stuck to my beliefs and told myself it was their loss. As you get further into your late 20s and 30s, that becomes a bigger and bigger deal, because the people you're meeting at that age (at least in London) almost invariably have some sort of sexual experience and find it very hard to understand why you want to abstain.
It's very hard to meet new people in London, but throughout my time there (aged 25 to 36), I joined various clubs and social groups in the hope of widening my social circle and allowed various friends and family to introduce me to a succession of their single friends. As we got older and more and more of my friends married and had children, the pool of single friends they could introduce me to got smaller and smaller, and I began to believe the parting shot of my university boyfriend: "If you leave me, nobody else will have you."
My single state wasn't all bad news - because I had no other commitments (apart from work, which I've always been quite good at juggling), I was able to support one friend through a divorce, another friend through her husband's illness and subsequent death, help my newly-widowed friend to look after her toddler children, look after my sister's baby when my sister was very ill, and generally be the person a lot of my friends would turn to in a crisis.
At the age of 31, I decided that if marriage and babies weren't on the horizon, I'd better get myself a job with a decent pension, and I started to train as an accountant. Ironically, although I had never imagined myself having a professional career of any sort and still saw it as a second-best option that I hoped to leave behind for the joys of motherhood one day, I turned out to be rather good at my job. I passed all my professional exams and was rapidly promoted over the next few years.
My 35th birthday was the most miserable birthday ever, as I began to realise that my dreams were likely never to be fulfilled. I joined an internet dating agency, but never got further than the first date. Then I decided to make more radical changes in my life, and I changed jobs and moved house.
I'd almost given up hope of ever meeting the right person, but early in 2007 I signed up with another internet dating agency.
Meanwhile, my now DH was in his 40s and had never had a girlfriend. As a painfully shy teenager, his life had revolved around his brother, who had significant disabilities and died when DH was 18. He never really got off the starting blocks. Then in 2006 his best friend married a girl he had met through an internet dating agency, and persuaded DH to sign up with the same agency.
His was the first profile I saw, and he was the only person I ever contacted through the site. Six months later, we were engaged. Nine months after that, we were married. He is the kindest, most gentle and loving person, and I'm grateful every day that I found him.
We discussed children from the beginning, and I knew he was as keen to be a father as I was to be a mother. By the time we were married and able to start trying, I was 38. By the time we discovered that his sperm were never going to get us pregnant without help, I was nearly 40. I then had FSH and AMH tests which showed that I had low ovarian reserve.
And that's how we got to where we are now - I spent my life searching for my soulmate, and by the time I found him, we were both old and knackered.
So I'd love it if people would look beyond the grey hairs and suit that seem to confirm the media stereotype and see the individual behind them. The dream isn't new - it's always been there. I've done everything in my power to fulfil it, but I didn't have the great good fortune to meet my DH while my eggs were still young and fresh.
Infertility is a horrible, soul-destroying thing whatever age you are. But when you feel that people are judging you and blaming you for the suffering that you're going through, it certainly doesn't help.
I agree with the second part of that - it is completely unfair that anybody, at any age, should struggle to do what should be the most natural thing on earth.
And the first part of it is what the media tell us pretty much every day - women are having children later because they're being selfish and putting their careers and their hedonistic lifestyles first, and some of them just leave it too late and then expect to receive help and sympathy when they suddenly decide they want children.
I have to say, that message we're constantly being fed that it's somehow our fault makes my blood boil.
I've said before that all I ever wanted in life was to be a wife and mother. I imagined myself having at least two or three children before I was 30, and going on to have six or seven.
Unfortunately, that wasn't the plan that God had for me.
I had a serious boyfriend while I was at university, but he was jealous and controlling, and I finally realised that he was not good for me.
Then there was the guy I thought for a long time (even for many years after we split up) was the love of my life. I wouldn't have sex before marriage, so he "serviced his man machine" (his words) somewhere else and ended up getting the other woman pregnant. The two consolations for me in that were first that I'd found out what he was like before we got married, and secondly that his two children were the ugliest and most unappealing babies I've ever seen (in fact, the only ugly and completely unappealing babies I can ever recall having seen).
There were a few other brief relationships which went nowhere - the sticking point was very often my Catholicism or, specifically, my refusal to sleep with the person before marriage, but I stuck to my beliefs and told myself it was their loss. As you get further into your late 20s and 30s, that becomes a bigger and bigger deal, because the people you're meeting at that age (at least in London) almost invariably have some sort of sexual experience and find it very hard to understand why you want to abstain.
It's very hard to meet new people in London, but throughout my time there (aged 25 to 36), I joined various clubs and social groups in the hope of widening my social circle and allowed various friends and family to introduce me to a succession of their single friends. As we got older and more and more of my friends married and had children, the pool of single friends they could introduce me to got smaller and smaller, and I began to believe the parting shot of my university boyfriend: "If you leave me, nobody else will have you."
My single state wasn't all bad news - because I had no other commitments (apart from work, which I've always been quite good at juggling), I was able to support one friend through a divorce, another friend through her husband's illness and subsequent death, help my newly-widowed friend to look after her toddler children, look after my sister's baby when my sister was very ill, and generally be the person a lot of my friends would turn to in a crisis.
At the age of 31, I decided that if marriage and babies weren't on the horizon, I'd better get myself a job with a decent pension, and I started to train as an accountant. Ironically, although I had never imagined myself having a professional career of any sort and still saw it as a second-best option that I hoped to leave behind for the joys of motherhood one day, I turned out to be rather good at my job. I passed all my professional exams and was rapidly promoted over the next few years.
My 35th birthday was the most miserable birthday ever, as I began to realise that my dreams were likely never to be fulfilled. I joined an internet dating agency, but never got further than the first date. Then I decided to make more radical changes in my life, and I changed jobs and moved house.
I'd almost given up hope of ever meeting the right person, but early in 2007 I signed up with another internet dating agency.
Meanwhile, my now DH was in his 40s and had never had a girlfriend. As a painfully shy teenager, his life had revolved around his brother, who had significant disabilities and died when DH was 18. He never really got off the starting blocks. Then in 2006 his best friend married a girl he had met through an internet dating agency, and persuaded DH to sign up with the same agency.
His was the first profile I saw, and he was the only person I ever contacted through the site. Six months later, we were engaged. Nine months after that, we were married. He is the kindest, most gentle and loving person, and I'm grateful every day that I found him.
We discussed children from the beginning, and I knew he was as keen to be a father as I was to be a mother. By the time we were married and able to start trying, I was 38. By the time we discovered that his sperm were never going to get us pregnant without help, I was nearly 40. I then had FSH and AMH tests which showed that I had low ovarian reserve.
And that's how we got to where we are now - I spent my life searching for my soulmate, and by the time I found him, we were both old and knackered.
So I'd love it if people would look beyond the grey hairs and suit that seem to confirm the media stereotype and see the individual behind them. The dream isn't new - it's always been there. I've done everything in my power to fulfil it, but I didn't have the great good fortune to meet my DH while my eggs were still young and fresh.
Infertility is a horrible, soul-destroying thing whatever age you are. But when you feel that people are judging you and blaming you for the suffering that you're going through, it certainly doesn't help.
Tuesday, 27 October 2009
Some good news for a change
Well, I spent pretty much the whole of yesterday in tears, except for a brief period while my sister was here with her three children. Depression not being my natural state, I now need to forget about this cycle - apart from the brief interlude on Friday when I have to POAS for form's sake and then tell the clinic I'm not pregnant - and look to the future.
And the future is ... becoming an aunt again. My poor sister, to whom I had been on the phone in tears in the morning over my failure, had to tell me that she's expecting her fourth. She was so worried about upsetting me, but wanted to make sure I heard it from her before anyone else knew and was able to let it slip. And she wanted to tell me in person, which is why she had asked if she could come and see us today.
I couldn't possibly be jealous of my sister - the baby she's having is not one of the babies I'd built my dreams on, and we're so close that I know I'll have a great relationship with this new little one. We're both sad that we won't be going through this together - but if we're successful on our second cycle, I won't be far behind and our little one will have a playmate just down the road (my sister lives about 40 minutes' drive from us).
After the devastation and tears of yesterday, it's nice that we're looking forward to welcoming a new life into the family after all, and that we have something positive to focus on.
And just to make it good news all round - Myndful got her BFP yesterday as well, and I'm chuffed to bits for her.
And the future is ... becoming an aunt again. My poor sister, to whom I had been on the phone in tears in the morning over my failure, had to tell me that she's expecting her fourth. She was so worried about upsetting me, but wanted to make sure I heard it from her before anyone else knew and was able to let it slip. And she wanted to tell me in person, which is why she had asked if she could come and see us today.
I couldn't possibly be jealous of my sister - the baby she's having is not one of the babies I'd built my dreams on, and we're so close that I know I'll have a great relationship with this new little one. We're both sad that we won't be going through this together - but if we're successful on our second cycle, I won't be far behind and our little one will have a playmate just down the road (my sister lives about 40 minutes' drive from us).
After the devastation and tears of yesterday, it's nice that we're looking forward to welcoming a new life into the family after all, and that we have something positive to focus on.
And just to make it good news all round - Myndful got her BFP yesterday as well, and I'm chuffed to bits for her.
Monday, 26 October 2009
Total meltdown
Well, I rang the clinic and spoke to Nurse Perfect, and she was great - she didn't give me false hope, but said that the spotting was "insignificant" and meant nothing either way. She told me to carry on doing everything I have been doing and contact them again if I get full flow red blood before test day. She stressed that there's absolutely nothing I can do right now to influence the outcome one way or the other, so I should try to carry on as normal as much as possible.
Of course, the spotting was the only thing I told her about, and it's the combination of that with the drop in BBT and the total disappearance of all other positive symptoms that has me totally freaked out.
My sister and Jeannie both rang, and I had a little cry. I had a shower, and had a little cry. I checked my e-mails and read the lovely comments people have been leaving me on here, and had a little cry. Do you spot a pattern here?
Then I had a message from work - my colleague won't be able to teach his course this week, and we need to work out what to do about it. This is code for "you need to come in and teach this course" - I wrote it, so I'm the only other person who could theoretically teach it at such short notice.
It's on Thursday and Friday, and I had a total meltdown at the thought of having to be in the office teaching on official test day, the day when I have to POAS and then phone the clinic and discuss the result with them.
I called the department administrator (who is also a good friend) and she basically had to sit through my meltdown. There was everything - tears, snot, great gulping sobs, and the poor thing had to try to make sense of what I was saying through all that.
The upshot of it all is that the course has been cancelled and I've since spoken to my boss - who has clearly heard from the administrator about the earlier call, as he told me not to come into the office again until I'm feeling better, and not to worry about what's going on at work in the meantime. Of course, nobody wants a hysterical female dripping tears all over the computer equipment in an open-plan office, so I'm sure it's as much for their benefit as for mine.
And therein lies the benefit first in having the most wonderful colleagues and the most understanding boss in the world and secondly in having been upfront with them while I was still relatively sane and told them what was going on...
Of course, the spotting was the only thing I told her about, and it's the combination of that with the drop in BBT and the total disappearance of all other positive symptoms that has me totally freaked out.
My sister and Jeannie both rang, and I had a little cry. I had a shower, and had a little cry. I checked my e-mails and read the lovely comments people have been leaving me on here, and had a little cry. Do you spot a pattern here?
Then I had a message from work - my colleague won't be able to teach his course this week, and we need to work out what to do about it. This is code for "you need to come in and teach this course" - I wrote it, so I'm the only other person who could theoretically teach it at such short notice.
It's on Thursday and Friday, and I had a total meltdown at the thought of having to be in the office teaching on official test day, the day when I have to POAS and then phone the clinic and discuss the result with them.
I called the department administrator (who is also a good friend) and she basically had to sit through my meltdown. There was everything - tears, snot, great gulping sobs, and the poor thing had to try to make sense of what I was saying through all that.
The upshot of it all is that the course has been cancelled and I've since spoken to my boss - who has clearly heard from the administrator about the earlier call, as he told me not to come into the office again until I'm feeling better, and not to worry about what's going on at work in the meantime. Of course, nobody wants a hysterical female dripping tears all over the computer equipment in an open-plan office, so I'm sure it's as much for their benefit as for mine.
And therein lies the benefit first in having the most wonderful colleagues and the most understanding boss in the world and secondly in having been upfront with them while I was still relatively sane and told them what was going on...
Rollercoaster watch - day 3
Once again, thank you all so much for your comments on the last couple of posts - I really appreciate all your support and prayers.
Well, yesterday I got the 'need to eat right now' thing again at one stage. I also had a headache all day, but my Ribena smelt and tasted fine.
I went for coffee with some other friends after Mass and realised that I really am weeing an awful lot more than usual. I had put it down to all the extra water I was drinking, but yesterday morning I hadn't had any more to drink than I would usually have done by that stage in the day. The last time I met these friends we chatted for the same length of time and had the same number of drinks, and as we were getting ready to leave I thought maybe I ought to go to the loo before heading home. This time, I had to go four times in the course of our conversation and then needed to go as soon as I got home as well.
The spotting stayed insubstantial enough not to bother me too much during the day - sometimes a bit there when I wiped, sometimes not. I also read how common spotting is, especially after IVF, and so relaxed a bit about it - until the evening, when it suddenly increased to a level where I needed to use a pad. There's just a tiny bit on the pad, though, and there was none first thing this morning.
My boobs are MUCH less sore, and my BBT went down again last night, although it's still above the cover line. And this morning I woke up with AF-type cramps.
So there you have it - I think it's way more likely that I'm not pregnant than that I am. I was very tempted to POAS this morning to see if I could put myself out of my misery, but it's not quite two weeks since my trigger shot and it's only 12 DPO, so I run the very real risk of either a false positive or a false negative. I'll be good and wait.
In the meantime, I think I've convinced DH that it's all over bar the bleeding, and we've worked out that with work commitments in November and Christmas clinic closure in December, the next time we'll be able to try will be January. I hope my old ovaries last out that long.
The consolation prize for failing this cycle will be a trip to South Africa - we've been planning it for months, but decided we wouldn't go if I was pregnant. Jeannie, it looks like we'll probably be seeing you soon - if this pans out the way I'm expecting it to, I'll be booking our tickets next Saturday.
Well, yesterday I got the 'need to eat right now' thing again at one stage. I also had a headache all day, but my Ribena smelt and tasted fine.
I went for coffee with some other friends after Mass and realised that I really am weeing an awful lot more than usual. I had put it down to all the extra water I was drinking, but yesterday morning I hadn't had any more to drink than I would usually have done by that stage in the day. The last time I met these friends we chatted for the same length of time and had the same number of drinks, and as we were getting ready to leave I thought maybe I ought to go to the loo before heading home. This time, I had to go four times in the course of our conversation and then needed to go as soon as I got home as well.
The spotting stayed insubstantial enough not to bother me too much during the day - sometimes a bit there when I wiped, sometimes not. I also read how common spotting is, especially after IVF, and so relaxed a bit about it - until the evening, when it suddenly increased to a level where I needed to use a pad. There's just a tiny bit on the pad, though, and there was none first thing this morning.
My boobs are MUCH less sore, and my BBT went down again last night, although it's still above the cover line. And this morning I woke up with AF-type cramps.
So there you have it - I think it's way more likely that I'm not pregnant than that I am. I was very tempted to POAS this morning to see if I could put myself out of my misery, but it's not quite two weeks since my trigger shot and it's only 12 DPO, so I run the very real risk of either a false positive or a false negative. I'll be good and wait.
In the meantime, I think I've convinced DH that it's all over bar the bleeding, and we've worked out that with work commitments in November and Christmas clinic closure in December, the next time we'll be able to try will be January. I hope my old ovaries last out that long.
The consolation prize for failing this cycle will be a trip to South Africa - we've been planning it for months, but decided we wouldn't go if I was pregnant. Jeannie, it looks like we'll probably be seeing you soon - if this pans out the way I'm expecting it to, I'll be booking our tickets next Saturday.
Sunday, 25 October 2009
A degree of reassurance
You people are so great - thank you so much for your messages yesterday. I feel well and truly cyber-hugged.
Last night was a VERY disturbed night - DH thinks he might be getting a cold, which, on top of the usual snoring like a freight train, entails an awful lot of moaning, tossing and turning, rubbing his feet together in a bizarre fashion which makes the whole bed shake, clattering about to get himself drinks, and generally waking me up every half hour or so.
On a night like this, I usually end up moving to the spare room to get a chance at a decent night's sleep, but as the spare room is cooler than our bedroom, I didn't want to screw up my temperature reading, so I kicked him out instead. Then I remembered that I'd put my Cyclogest in the spare room, because it's cooler than the bathroom. Knowing I'd be needing it before he was ready to get up, I had to get up to go and get it (and then go to the loo, because my bladder is suddenly the size of a pea).
By this time, I was thoroughly wide awake, so Insomnia Hour started early, and ended up lasting a good couple of hours. My normal time for taking my temperature came when I had been lightly dozing for about an hour, so I took it and found that it was between Friday's and Saturday's temperatures - not brilliant, but not disastrous. I duly recorded it and eventually managed to get back to sleep.
The next time I woke up (I should point out that it was an extra-long night, because not only was I so tired that I went to bed at 9, but the clocks went back last night) was at 6, which is the time I used to take my temperature before Insomnia Hour set in and I started doing it earlier. I'd probably had an hour and a half of good, solid sleep, and it was about five hours since I'd got out of bed.
This time my temperature was 37.03. In all my months of charting, this is the first month it has ever exceeded 36.80 (which was very rare itself - I usually barely hit 36.65 at my peak) at that time of the morning, so either the progesterone is behaving as Sonja described, or there's still a bit of hope.
My BBT is probably the thing I trust most to tell me what's going on, and obviously I did have the spotting yesterday, but two other things happened yesterday that I've never experienced before. Since I've never taken extra progesterone before, I have no idea whether they're connected with that, or even just totally random events.
The first is that my plan was to get some lunch when I went to meet my friends for coffee. I'd had a small breakfast, then driven DH over to visit his parents and stayed an hour with them before coming home. When I got home at about 1:00, I had a splitting headache and felt shaky, and just knew I had to eat something before going out.
I had a cereal bar and a handful of dried mango, following which I felt so full that I never did have anything to eat when we got to the coffee house. The headache and shakes took a few minutes to subside, but definitely improved as soon as I'd eaten something. I know this is fairly normal for some people if they haven't eaten for a few hours, but it's never happened to me before.
The second odd thing was that DH got me one of my favourite drinks after supper - a mug of hot Ribena. I sat there with the mug next to me, watching television and noticing a foul smell like stale dishwater, and idly wondering where the foul smell came from and whether I should stir myself to track down the source and clean it up.
When I picked up the mug, I realised it was my Ribena that was smelling so bad. I was barely able to take a sip from it, and when I did, it tasted not of stale dishwater but very strongly of plastic. It was so horrible that I wasn't able to finish it.
So, who knows? I'll be upset if I get more spotting, or if it gets any heavier than it was yesterday, but the total despair of yesterday has once more given way to a little bit of hope and a whole lot of confusion.
Last night was a VERY disturbed night - DH thinks he might be getting a cold, which, on top of the usual snoring like a freight train, entails an awful lot of moaning, tossing and turning, rubbing his feet together in a bizarre fashion which makes the whole bed shake, clattering about to get himself drinks, and generally waking me up every half hour or so.
On a night like this, I usually end up moving to the spare room to get a chance at a decent night's sleep, but as the spare room is cooler than our bedroom, I didn't want to screw up my temperature reading, so I kicked him out instead. Then I remembered that I'd put my Cyclogest in the spare room, because it's cooler than the bathroom. Knowing I'd be needing it before he was ready to get up, I had to get up to go and get it (and then go to the loo, because my bladder is suddenly the size of a pea).
By this time, I was thoroughly wide awake, so Insomnia Hour started early, and ended up lasting a good couple of hours. My normal time for taking my temperature came when I had been lightly dozing for about an hour, so I took it and found that it was between Friday's and Saturday's temperatures - not brilliant, but not disastrous. I duly recorded it and eventually managed to get back to sleep.
The next time I woke up (I should point out that it was an extra-long night, because not only was I so tired that I went to bed at 9, but the clocks went back last night) was at 6, which is the time I used to take my temperature before Insomnia Hour set in and I started doing it earlier. I'd probably had an hour and a half of good, solid sleep, and it was about five hours since I'd got out of bed.
This time my temperature was 37.03. In all my months of charting, this is the first month it has ever exceeded 36.80 (which was very rare itself - I usually barely hit 36.65 at my peak) at that time of the morning, so either the progesterone is behaving as Sonja described, or there's still a bit of hope.
My BBT is probably the thing I trust most to tell me what's going on, and obviously I did have the spotting yesterday, but two other things happened yesterday that I've never experienced before. Since I've never taken extra progesterone before, I have no idea whether they're connected with that, or even just totally random events.
The first is that my plan was to get some lunch when I went to meet my friends for coffee. I'd had a small breakfast, then driven DH over to visit his parents and stayed an hour with them before coming home. When I got home at about 1:00, I had a splitting headache and felt shaky, and just knew I had to eat something before going out.
I had a cereal bar and a handful of dried mango, following which I felt so full that I never did have anything to eat when we got to the coffee house. The headache and shakes took a few minutes to subside, but definitely improved as soon as I'd eaten something. I know this is fairly normal for some people if they haven't eaten for a few hours, but it's never happened to me before.
The second odd thing was that DH got me one of my favourite drinks after supper - a mug of hot Ribena. I sat there with the mug next to me, watching television and noticing a foul smell like stale dishwater, and idly wondering where the foul smell came from and whether I should stir myself to track down the source and clean it up.
When I picked up the mug, I realised it was my Ribena that was smelling so bad. I was barely able to take a sip from it, and when I did, it tasted not of stale dishwater but very strongly of plastic. It was so horrible that I wasn't able to finish it.
So, who knows? I'll be upset if I get more spotting, or if it gets any heavier than it was yesterday, but the total despair of yesterday has once more given way to a little bit of hope and a whole lot of confusion.
Saturday, 24 October 2009
The writing on the wall
Thank you so much for all your comments, your support and your prayers. I appreciate all of them, but at the moment I don't feel able to answer any individual comments.
Today is 10 DPO, and it's usually around now in my cycle that I start to see spotting.
For the last three days, I've allowed myself to get increasingly hopeful, because my temperature shot up to a level it's never reached before and stayed there. This morning it dropped by 0.3 degrees, and although I told myself that a single day couldn't tell me much and that I needed to wait until tomorrow to see what it does then, my heart also sank like a stone.
This afternoon I was having a coffee with some friends. When I went to the loo, I saw the telltale signs of spotting, and instantly just wanted to get home and curl up into a little ball. I went through the motions of finishing our drinks and carrying on the conversation, all the time desperate to get away.
Now I'm home and have been to the loo again, and there is definite brown spotting going on.
The combination of the temperature drop and the brown spotting are how AF always heralds her unwanted appearance.
I'm hoping and praying that Rucksack and Ray-Ray are hanging on in there, but at the moment it's not looking good. The two week wait may be over sooner than I expected.
Today is 10 DPO, and it's usually around now in my cycle that I start to see spotting.
For the last three days, I've allowed myself to get increasingly hopeful, because my temperature shot up to a level it's never reached before and stayed there. This morning it dropped by 0.3 degrees, and although I told myself that a single day couldn't tell me much and that I needed to wait until tomorrow to see what it does then, my heart also sank like a stone.
This afternoon I was having a coffee with some friends. When I went to the loo, I saw the telltale signs of spotting, and instantly just wanted to get home and curl up into a little ball. I went through the motions of finishing our drinks and carrying on the conversation, all the time desperate to get away.
Now I'm home and have been to the loo again, and there is definite brown spotting going on.
The combination of the temperature drop and the brown spotting are how AF always heralds her unwanted appearance.
I'm hoping and praying that Rucksack and Ray-Ray are hanging on in there, but at the moment it's not looking good. The two week wait may be over sooner than I expected.
Listening to my subconscious
I'm starting to get some crazy, vivid dreams now, and sometimes I'm not even sure when I wake up whether they were real or not.
I haven't been able to kick the habit of charting my temperature, but since I started having a regular Insomnia Hour (or two) after waking like clockwork between 3 and 3:30am, I've started taking my temperature when I wake for the Insomnia Hour rather than when I wake for the morning (which is a little more erratic, and very seldom preceded by a full three hours' sleep).
So on Wednesday night, I reached out sleepily at about 3:15am, stuck the thermometer in my mouth, had a quick look and noted with satisfaction that my temperature was still higher than it's ever been at this stage in my cycle.
During Insomnia Hour, I worried that it might have been artificially raised because I'd been sweating profusely when I woke up and it might just have been a temporary hot flush caused by the Cyclogest. So at some point, I fell back to sleep, then woke up again a couple of hours later, took my temperature again and was crushed to see that it had fallen by 0.3 degrees C.
Except... I didn't. I worried during Insomnia Hour, then I fell back to sleep and slept peacefully (or maybe not so peacefully - certainly not dreamlessly) until morning - when I turned the thermometer back on and saw that it was still displaying the 3:15am temperature. The second reading was just a dream.
Then on Thursday night I had two separate dreams. In the first one, I had gone away somewhere for a three-day conference. I arrived there to find I'd forgotten to pack my Cyclogest, and ran up and down the corridor trying to find menopausal women on HRT who might be able to give me a bit of progesterone, all the while panicking that if I missed a single dose I would have a miscarriage. (Yeah, let's wait until we've had a positive pregnancy test before we start worrying about miscarriage - one step at a time, PLEASE!)
In the second, time had obviously marched on a bit and I was complaining to DH that with the extra laundry we were doing for the twins and the fact that the towel rail in the bathroom will only hold a maximum of four towels, I really thought it was time he got over his insistence on using two massive bath sheets after every shower - even when he hasn't washed his hair - so that we could have enough room for both the twins' towels on the towel rail.
I think my subconscious has allowed a bit of hope to creep in here somewhere between Wednesday and Friday. I'm quite excited to see what the next instalment will be - perhaps tonight the twins will be starting school, then by the time the two week wait is drawing to a close, they should at the very least be graduating from medical school, or getting a Nobel prize or something...
I haven't been able to kick the habit of charting my temperature, but since I started having a regular Insomnia Hour (or two) after waking like clockwork between 3 and 3:30am, I've started taking my temperature when I wake for the Insomnia Hour rather than when I wake for the morning (which is a little more erratic, and very seldom preceded by a full three hours' sleep).
So on Wednesday night, I reached out sleepily at about 3:15am, stuck the thermometer in my mouth, had a quick look and noted with satisfaction that my temperature was still higher than it's ever been at this stage in my cycle.
During Insomnia Hour, I worried that it might have been artificially raised because I'd been sweating profusely when I woke up and it might just have been a temporary hot flush caused by the Cyclogest. So at some point, I fell back to sleep, then woke up again a couple of hours later, took my temperature again and was crushed to see that it had fallen by 0.3 degrees C.
Except... I didn't. I worried during Insomnia Hour, then I fell back to sleep and slept peacefully (or maybe not so peacefully - certainly not dreamlessly) until morning - when I turned the thermometer back on and saw that it was still displaying the 3:15am temperature. The second reading was just a dream.
Then on Thursday night I had two separate dreams. In the first one, I had gone away somewhere for a three-day conference. I arrived there to find I'd forgotten to pack my Cyclogest, and ran up and down the corridor trying to find menopausal women on HRT who might be able to give me a bit of progesterone, all the while panicking that if I missed a single dose I would have a miscarriage. (Yeah, let's wait until we've had a positive pregnancy test before we start worrying about miscarriage - one step at a time, PLEASE!)
In the second, time had obviously marched on a bit and I was complaining to DH that with the extra laundry we were doing for the twins and the fact that the towel rail in the bathroom will only hold a maximum of four towels, I really thought it was time he got over his insistence on using two massive bath sheets after every shower - even when he hasn't washed his hair - so that we could have enough room for both the twins' towels on the towel rail.
I think my subconscious has allowed a bit of hope to creep in here somewhere between Wednesday and Friday. I'm quite excited to see what the next instalment will be - perhaps tonight the twins will be starting school, then by the time the two week wait is drawing to a close, they should at the very least be graduating from medical school, or getting a Nobel prize or something...
Friday, 23 October 2009
One week down, one to go
Tedious
Wearisome
Ordeal
Waiting
Endlessly,
Enervatingly,
Killing time
What
Awful
Interminable
Torture
Wearisome
Ordeal
Waiting
Endlessly,
Enervatingly,
Killing time
What
Awful
Interminable
Torture
Thursday, 22 October 2009
Public Service Information
This will be a long one. Sonja asked in the comments to my post on Tuesday why I was doing some of the things I'm doing, so I thought I'd do a post on the advice that my clinic gives post-transfer with some additional information that I've dredged up from the net.
Bed rest
My clinic doesn't recommend bed rest after transfer, and in fact they didn't make me lie down for more than a couple of minutes immediately afterwards. Apparently studies have been done where the position of the little bubble of fluid in which the embryos are transferred has been checked by ultrasound after women have either lain down for half an hour or so or got up straight away, and no discernable difference has been detected.
In other words, getting up straight away doesn't displace the embryos and will not cause them to fall out. There is also no statistical difference in outcome between people who have been on bed rest for a day or two after transfer and those who haven't.
My clinic advises that there is no need to rest after transfer and that you can return to your daily routine but avoid strenuous exercise.
In fact, I felt pretty battered and bruised after egg collection and embryo transfer, and apart from my trip to the acupuncturist I rested with my feet up for more than 24 hours after transfer - just because I didn't feel like doing anything else. We went to the theatre on Saturday night, but that turned out to be a mistake, as I felt absolutely dreadful by the time we were going home.
I am still taking it easy (or easier than usual) - apart from the four loads of laundry I had to do yesterday (because although I normally do 4-6 loads a week, DH seems to think that doing a single load over the weekend will keep us on top of things).
Progesterone
Progesterone supplementation is apparently given for two reasons. The first, and more important, is that it can help the uterus to stop contracting after transfer and thus help implantation.
The second is that after all the messing about that your hormones have had during the process so far, your body may not get the usual message to produce progesterone after ovulation and so a top-up may be necessary to support a pregnancy until HCG takes over.
My clinic prescribes enough Cyclogest to last two weeks, then renews the prescription to take you up to 12 weeks if you are pregnant.
For me, the main side effects of Cyclogest have been extreme exhaustion, sore boobs from the day after transfer and a bit of nausea. I've also been getting night sweats, to the extent that since yesterday I have a very attractive heat rash on my stomach, and when I woke up this morning the neck of my t-shirt was damp.
Taking the suppositories rectally, there is no discharge and no mess, although (TMI) my poo is a funny colour!
Aspirin
The clinic recommends taking 75 mg of aspirin daily from the day of transfer onwards - not earlier, as it can increase bleeding during egg collection and transfer. The reason for taking this is to prevent clotting, which can cause miscarriage.
Fluid intake
My clinic advises that you increase your fluid intake to two litres of water and half a pint of milk a day. I'm struggling with this one, as I don't usually drink that much, though as the weather gets a bit chillier I am enjoying my mug of hot milk before bedtime.
The reason for the water is partly to avoid OHSS (with only six follicles, I'm not at much risk for that, although it has been known in the unlikeliest of candidates). It also helps to flush the drugs out of the system. And finally, being well hydrated helps with blood flow, and good hydration remains important throughout pregnancy, so it's good to get into the habit.
As for milk, it can help throughout the IVF cycle - the protein it contains can help to produce better quality eggs. The calcium is useful when downregging - the induction of a mini-menopause can lead to depletion of calcium levels in your bones, increasing the risk of osteoporosis in later life.
Calcium is also very important in pregnancy for the development of the baby's teeth, bones, etc, and if you're not taking enough in, the foetus will take what it needs from your body, again increasing the risk of osteoporosis in the future.
Many people in the West these days have a diet which is deficient in calcium, particularly if they're trying to be careful of their weight (avoiding cheese, full-fat milk, etc) so getting those levels of consumption up is a good thing. Also, because during pregnancy you have to avoid soft cheeses, many women's calcium consumption may actually be going down and increasing consumption of milk/yogurt/hard cheese can counteract that effect.
Finally, I have read a comment from an IVF doctor who said that after he started recommending that his patients drink more milk after transfer, several who had had previous unsuccessful cycles became pregnant. This is anecdotal, but good enough for me.
Other stuff
I'm also doing the following (I've put an asterisk against the ones specifically recommended by my clinic):
Bed rest
My clinic doesn't recommend bed rest after transfer, and in fact they didn't make me lie down for more than a couple of minutes immediately afterwards. Apparently studies have been done where the position of the little bubble of fluid in which the embryos are transferred has been checked by ultrasound after women have either lain down for half an hour or so or got up straight away, and no discernable difference has been detected.
In other words, getting up straight away doesn't displace the embryos and will not cause them to fall out. There is also no statistical difference in outcome between people who have been on bed rest for a day or two after transfer and those who haven't.
My clinic advises that there is no need to rest after transfer and that you can return to your daily routine but avoid strenuous exercise.
In fact, I felt pretty battered and bruised after egg collection and embryo transfer, and apart from my trip to the acupuncturist I rested with my feet up for more than 24 hours after transfer - just because I didn't feel like doing anything else. We went to the theatre on Saturday night, but that turned out to be a mistake, as I felt absolutely dreadful by the time we were going home.
I am still taking it easy (or easier than usual) - apart from the four loads of laundry I had to do yesterday (because although I normally do 4-6 loads a week, DH seems to think that doing a single load over the weekend will keep us on top of things).
Progesterone
Progesterone supplementation is apparently given for two reasons. The first, and more important, is that it can help the uterus to stop contracting after transfer and thus help implantation.
The second is that after all the messing about that your hormones have had during the process so far, your body may not get the usual message to produce progesterone after ovulation and so a top-up may be necessary to support a pregnancy until HCG takes over.
My clinic prescribes enough Cyclogest to last two weeks, then renews the prescription to take you up to 12 weeks if you are pregnant.
For me, the main side effects of Cyclogest have been extreme exhaustion, sore boobs from the day after transfer and a bit of nausea. I've also been getting night sweats, to the extent that since yesterday I have a very attractive heat rash on my stomach, and when I woke up this morning the neck of my t-shirt was damp.
Taking the suppositories rectally, there is no discharge and no mess, although (TMI) my poo is a funny colour!
Aspirin
The clinic recommends taking 75 mg of aspirin daily from the day of transfer onwards - not earlier, as it can increase bleeding during egg collection and transfer. The reason for taking this is to prevent clotting, which can cause miscarriage.
Fluid intake
My clinic advises that you increase your fluid intake to two litres of water and half a pint of milk a day. I'm struggling with this one, as I don't usually drink that much, though as the weather gets a bit chillier I am enjoying my mug of hot milk before bedtime.
The reason for the water is partly to avoid OHSS (with only six follicles, I'm not at much risk for that, although it has been known in the unlikeliest of candidates). It also helps to flush the drugs out of the system. And finally, being well hydrated helps with blood flow, and good hydration remains important throughout pregnancy, so it's good to get into the habit.
As for milk, it can help throughout the IVF cycle - the protein it contains can help to produce better quality eggs. The calcium is useful when downregging - the induction of a mini-menopause can lead to depletion of calcium levels in your bones, increasing the risk of osteoporosis in later life.
Calcium is also very important in pregnancy for the development of the baby's teeth, bones, etc, and if you're not taking enough in, the foetus will take what it needs from your body, again increasing the risk of osteoporosis in the future.
Many people in the West these days have a diet which is deficient in calcium, particularly if they're trying to be careful of their weight (avoiding cheese, full-fat milk, etc) so getting those levels of consumption up is a good thing. Also, because during pregnancy you have to avoid soft cheeses, many women's calcium consumption may actually be going down and increasing consumption of milk/yogurt/hard cheese can counteract that effect.
Finally, I have read a comment from an IVF doctor who said that after he started recommending that his patients drink more milk after transfer, several who had had previous unsuccessful cycles became pregnant. This is anecdotal, but good enough for me.
Other stuff
I'm also doing the following (I've put an asterisk against the ones specifically recommended by my clinic):
- Taking folic acid 400mg daily - OK, I've been doing this for a couple of years now, so there must be some build-up in my system by now, but I'll carry on... *
- Eating five brazil nuts a day for the selenium
- Listening to this hypnotherapy CD every day - there are two separate parts for pre- and post-transfer, and I do find it helpful in keeping me calm. Research (I'm not sure how scientific, as I've only read about it on hypnotherapy websites, which clearly have a vested interest) has shown that using hypnotherapy can increase the chances of success in IVF
- Acupuncture on all the days recommended - proper scientific research has been done on this and concluded that acupuncture at the right times can significantly increase the chances of success in IVF. It's important to have a good acupuncturist, as the research has shown no increase in success (ie, no placebo effect) if pins are stuck in but the relevant points are missed.
- Avoiding foods that you're not supposed to eat while pregnant - raw egg, pate, soft cheese, offal (who knew? Looks like DH will be eating my yummy steak and kidney casserole on his own) *
- Healthy eating, lots of rest and generally trying to listen to my body. *
Phew, so - well done for reading this far. I'd be interested to hear any additional advice that you've been given, or anything that you have found helpful.
Wednesday, 21 October 2009
Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiired
OK, so even when we were trying on our own there were months when I got so tired during the 2WW that I would end up going to bed as soon as I'd had my supper. I think that's just how my body reacts to progesterone.
Well, now that I'm on Cyclogest twice a day, I feel like I've been hit by a train! On Monday night I was in bed soon after 8. Yesterday, I was in the office, which meant leaving home at 7 am and getting back at 7 pm. I was ready to go to bed by 8, but made the mistake of falling asleep on the sofa instead, and finally woke up to drag myself upstairs at 9:30.
Oh, and that rubbery time concept? I spoke too soon - several hours passed between 11 and 12 yesterday morning and again between 4 and 5 yesterday afternoon. I'm sure two weeks have passed already since ET last Friday, and if days are going to get arbitrarily longer like that, I'm not surprised I'm so tired by the end of the day.
So if my posting, and my commenting on other people's blogs, tails off a bit, you know why. I'm sleeeeeeeping....
Well, now that I'm on Cyclogest twice a day, I feel like I've been hit by a train! On Monday night I was in bed soon after 8. Yesterday, I was in the office, which meant leaving home at 7 am and getting back at 7 pm. I was ready to go to bed by 8, but made the mistake of falling asleep on the sofa instead, and finally woke up to drag myself upstairs at 9:30.
Oh, and that rubbery time concept? I spoke too soon - several hours passed between 11 and 12 yesterday morning and again between 4 and 5 yesterday afternoon. I'm sure two weeks have passed already since ET last Friday, and if days are going to get arbitrarily longer like that, I'm not surprised I'm so tired by the end of the day.
So if my posting, and my commenting on other people's blogs, tails off a bit, you know why. I'm sleeeeeeeping....
Temptation
You know how the hormone they use in the trigger shot is HCG, and it takes a few days to clear out of your system?
And you know how HCG is the hormone that home pregnancy tests are testing for?
Has anyone else ever been tempted to POAS on or very soon after the day of embryo transfer, just so that for once in your life you're guaranteed to see that blue line appear?
And you know how HCG is the hormone that home pregnancy tests are testing for?
Has anyone else ever been tempted to POAS on or very soon after the day of embryo transfer, just so that for once in your life you're guaranteed to see that blue line appear?
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
Stretching time
On Saturday evening, DH and I went to see one of our friends performing in a production of Terry Pratchett's Wyrd Sisters. The play included the following piece of dialogue:
GRANNY
She never sent the castle to sleep. That's just an old wives' tale. (she glares at Nanny) She just stirred up time a little. It's not as hard as people think. Everyone does it all the time. It's like rubber, is time. You can stretch it to suit yourself.
MAGRAT
But time is time. Every second lasts a second, that's what they're for...
GRANNY
How many times have weeks flown past, when afternoons seem to last for ever? How many times have minutes seemed to last for hours, when some hours have gone so quickly...?
MAGRAT
But that's just people's perception. Isn't it?
GRANNY
Oh yes. Of course it is. It all is. But what difference does that make?
So, here we are at the beginning of day 4 of a 14 day wait until I'm officially allowed to POAS, and I'm wondering how rubbery time is going to be over the next 11 days. For DH, time will drag - I've kept my obsessions mostly to myself (sharing them only with Jeannie and the entire internet) over so many two week waits that for him, it's the first 2WW that he's actually been fully aware of.
I was feeling rotten on Saturday evening and as we left the theatre, I told DH how bad I felt. His immediate reaction was, "Do you think that's a good or a bad sign?" and I very firmly said that the only sign that could mean anything at all either way for the next two weeks is if I actually start bleeding.
For me, on the other hand, I think this 2WW could even be easier than some previous ones, when I've spotted symptoms like mad and absolutely firmly convinced myself that I must be pregnant, only to have my hopes dashed time and time again.
There are three main things that make it different this time.
First, I know that there is no point whatsoever in spotting symptoms. I've felt more unwell than I expected to over the last week simply because of the huge assault on my body from both the massive doses of hormones and the physical manhandling it's been subjected to. As soon as I recover from that, any symptoms I experience can be put down to the extra progesterone I'm taking, so trying to interpret them is even more pointless than usual.
Second, I have a channel for my obsessions. Normally, there's nothing to do in the 2WW but wait and obsess. This time, I have my twice-daily progesterone suppositories, my junior aspirin, my obligatory 2 litres of water and half pint of milk daily, my folic acid, my hypnotherapy CD... Rather than passively waiting as normal, I'm actively doing something to pass the time.
And third, I know that conception definitely took place and that two living embryos were placed inside me. Rather than wonder whether anything happened at all, I can visualise those two embryos and imagine the stage that they should be at every day. I feel as though I have something real to focus on rather than just hopes and dreams.
It's still going to be a long couple of weeks, and I know I'll get more anxious the closer I get to my official test date. But somehow, I don't think it's going to be my worst ever 2WW.
GRANNY
She never sent the castle to sleep. That's just an old wives' tale. (she glares at Nanny) She just stirred up time a little. It's not as hard as people think. Everyone does it all the time. It's like rubber, is time. You can stretch it to suit yourself.
MAGRAT
But time is time. Every second lasts a second, that's what they're for...
GRANNY
How many times have weeks flown past, when afternoons seem to last for ever? How many times have minutes seemed to last for hours, when some hours have gone so quickly...?
MAGRAT
But that's just people's perception. Isn't it?
GRANNY
Oh yes. Of course it is. It all is. But what difference does that make?
So, here we are at the beginning of day 4 of a 14 day wait until I'm officially allowed to POAS, and I'm wondering how rubbery time is going to be over the next 11 days. For DH, time will drag - I've kept my obsessions mostly to myself (sharing them only with Jeannie and the entire internet) over so many two week waits that for him, it's the first 2WW that he's actually been fully aware of.
I was feeling rotten on Saturday evening and as we left the theatre, I told DH how bad I felt. His immediate reaction was, "Do you think that's a good or a bad sign?" and I very firmly said that the only sign that could mean anything at all either way for the next two weeks is if I actually start bleeding.
For me, on the other hand, I think this 2WW could even be easier than some previous ones, when I've spotted symptoms like mad and absolutely firmly convinced myself that I must be pregnant, only to have my hopes dashed time and time again.
There are three main things that make it different this time.
First, I know that there is no point whatsoever in spotting symptoms. I've felt more unwell than I expected to over the last week simply because of the huge assault on my body from both the massive doses of hormones and the physical manhandling it's been subjected to. As soon as I recover from that, any symptoms I experience can be put down to the extra progesterone I'm taking, so trying to interpret them is even more pointless than usual.
Second, I have a channel for my obsessions. Normally, there's nothing to do in the 2WW but wait and obsess. This time, I have my twice-daily progesterone suppositories, my junior aspirin, my obligatory 2 litres of water and half pint of milk daily, my folic acid, my hypnotherapy CD... Rather than passively waiting as normal, I'm actively doing something to pass the time.
And third, I know that conception definitely took place and that two living embryos were placed inside me. Rather than wonder whether anything happened at all, I can visualise those two embryos and imagine the stage that they should be at every day. I feel as though I have something real to focus on rather than just hopes and dreams.
It's still going to be a long couple of weeks, and I know I'll get more anxious the closer I get to my official test date. But somehow, I don't think it's going to be my worst ever 2WW.
Monday, 19 October 2009
Laying on of hands
Today is my niece's third birthday, and yesterday we went over to my sister's for her birthday lunch. She's the middle of three children, with an older sister of five and a younger sister of 16 months.
My newly-wed youngest brother and his wife were also there. My brother is a man of few words, even fewer of them demonstrating any sort of emotion, but he hugged me harder and for longer than normal, and that hug said everything that needed to be said between us (accompanied by a gruff "keep us posted"). I know my other brothers would be the same, and seeing him actually made me feel the support from them as well (despite a rather crass and upsetting comment my brother in the US made on the phone on Friday night - Heaven help him if his bedside manner is as bad with his patients).
My sister referred to DH and me a couple of times as "the four of you", and my nieces had obviously been warned not to pull me about and jump on me too much. I felt cared for and as though Rucksack and Ray-Ray are as important to the rest of my family as they are to DH and me. I know there's still so much that can go wrong, and it actually makes me feel better to realise that if things do go wrong, other people will be almost as sad at the loss of our little embryos as we will be.
Anyway, apparently my 5-year-old niece is developing some sort of Charismatic tendencies. She sat next to me at lunch, and between the main course and pudding she suddenly leant across and kissed the front of my jumper (actually, it was my right breast, but I don't think the exact placement was important to her).
She then put her hand on my tummy and said, "Dear God, please let Aunt ___ and Uncle ___ have a little baby."
I presume my sister has been including this in their bedtime prayers, but you could have knocked me down with a feather.
During Mass earlier in the day, I silently wished my embabies peace at the sign of peace, and at the final blessing I gently traced two little crosses on my abdomen. In my prayer, I said that this was the first time I was bringing my two little ones to Mass, and asked that it should be the first of many hundreds of times.
It's so good to know that the innocent voices of my nieces are joining in this prayer for our little ones.
My newly-wed youngest brother and his wife were also there. My brother is a man of few words, even fewer of them demonstrating any sort of emotion, but he hugged me harder and for longer than normal, and that hug said everything that needed to be said between us (accompanied by a gruff "keep us posted"). I know my other brothers would be the same, and seeing him actually made me feel the support from them as well (despite a rather crass and upsetting comment my brother in the US made on the phone on Friday night - Heaven help him if his bedside manner is as bad with his patients).
My sister referred to DH and me a couple of times as "the four of you", and my nieces had obviously been warned not to pull me about and jump on me too much. I felt cared for and as though Rucksack and Ray-Ray are as important to the rest of my family as they are to DH and me. I know there's still so much that can go wrong, and it actually makes me feel better to realise that if things do go wrong, other people will be almost as sad at the loss of our little embryos as we will be.
Anyway, apparently my 5-year-old niece is developing some sort of Charismatic tendencies. She sat next to me at lunch, and between the main course and pudding she suddenly leant across and kissed the front of my jumper (actually, it was my right breast, but I don't think the exact placement was important to her).
She then put her hand on my tummy and said, "Dear God, please let Aunt ___ and Uncle ___ have a little baby."
I presume my sister has been including this in their bedtime prayers, but you could have knocked me down with a feather.
During Mass earlier in the day, I silently wished my embabies peace at the sign of peace, and at the final blessing I gently traced two little crosses on my abdomen. In my prayer, I said that this was the first time I was bringing my two little ones to Mass, and asked that it should be the first of many hundreds of times.
It's so good to know that the innocent voices of my nieces are joining in this prayer for our little ones.
Sunday, 18 October 2009
Cheerleading
I think the hardest thing about this two-week wait is going to be keeping calm and not obsessing about what's going on in there. We have a few fun things planned to keep us busy - today we're going to lunch at my sister's house to celebrate my niece's third birthday, and we have various light activities going on during the week. I'm able to work from home for all but three days of the two weeks, which in one way is good, as I won't have to spend three hours a day commuting, but it does also give me an awful lot of extra time for obsessing.
I have a hypnotherapy CD which I'll listen to at least once a day, and my next acupuncture session will concentrate mainly on helping me to relax.
I also have visible signs of how the two-week wait is progressing - having been told that I must make sure I drink at least two litres of water a day, I have a case in the kitchen which currently contains 12 bottles of water. By removing a bottle a day, I'll be keeping my fluid intake up and have a visual reminder of how the amount of time still to wait is going down. When all the bottles are gone, it'll be time to test.
But inevitably, there will be times when I start worrying and getting stressed about the whole deal. On Friday evening, I made up a little rhyme to cheer my raspberry pips on (and subtly remind them what I had to go through to get them - nothing like starting the maternal guilt trips early!) whenever I start feeling a bit anxious. Bizarrely, it does seem to help calm me down so far. It goes like this:
Gonal-F and Cetrotide
Come on little cells, divide!
Ovitrelle and Cyclogest
Come on babies, do your best!
I have a hypnotherapy CD which I'll listen to at least once a day, and my next acupuncture session will concentrate mainly on helping me to relax.
I also have visible signs of how the two-week wait is progressing - having been told that I must make sure I drink at least two litres of water a day, I have a case in the kitchen which currently contains 12 bottles of water. By removing a bottle a day, I'll be keeping my fluid intake up and have a visual reminder of how the amount of time still to wait is going down. When all the bottles are gone, it'll be time to test.
But inevitably, there will be times when I start worrying and getting stressed about the whole deal. On Friday evening, I made up a little rhyme to cheer my raspberry pips on (and subtly remind them what I had to go through to get them - nothing like starting the maternal guilt trips early!) whenever I start feeling a bit anxious. Bizarrely, it does seem to help calm me down so far. It goes like this:
Gonal-F and Cetrotide
Come on little cells, divide!
Ovitrelle and Cyclogest
Come on babies, do your best!
Saturday, 17 October 2009
I think he's excited
Last night DH and I were sitting in front of the telly. As is so often the case, he was watching some obscure documentary and I was tapping away on my laptop.
We often joke about what an anorak my DH is - he has an encyclopaedic knowledge of the most ridiculously obscure facts, and is an amazing person to have on your team in a pub quiz. But every so often when he comes out with something particularly nerdy, I respond simply with a slight cough.
So there we were last night, and I was concentrating on my computer and completely oblivious to what was going on on the telly. DH suddenly came out with some obscure comment in response to something that was said in the documentary, and when I looked at him I could tell from his face that he knew he had just said something very esoteric and - well - nerdy.
I didn't instantly respond, as I had been deep into whatever I was reading, and he smiled at me and said, "Was that a little cough I just heard...? Or was it three little coughs?"
Poor chap - he's obviously expecting Rucksack and Ray-Ray to join me in ganging up on him. I just hope they stick around - I won't even mind if they're busy knitting themselves tiny little anoraks in there and come out spouting obscure trivia like their father.
We often joke about what an anorak my DH is - he has an encyclopaedic knowledge of the most ridiculously obscure facts, and is an amazing person to have on your team in a pub quiz. But every so often when he comes out with something particularly nerdy, I respond simply with a slight cough.
So there we were last night, and I was concentrating on my computer and completely oblivious to what was going on on the telly. DH suddenly came out with some obscure comment in response to something that was said in the documentary, and when I looked at him I could tell from his face that he knew he had just said something very esoteric and - well - nerdy.
I didn't instantly respond, as I had been deep into whatever I was reading, and he smiled at me and said, "Was that a little cough I just heard...? Or was it three little coughs?"
Poor chap - he's obviously expecting Rucksack and Ray-Ray to join me in ganging up on him. I just hope they stick around - I won't even mind if they're busy knitting themselves tiny little anoraks in there and come out spouting obscure trivia like their father.
Raspberry pips
I need to try to get over the feeling that too much gravity will cause my little chaps to fall out of their cosy little nest.
That feeling is, of course, not helped by the typical diagram of the female reproductive organs, which shows the uterus as a great empty cavity. I imagine Rucksack and Ray-Ray floating round this great empty space, occasionally hitting a side and trying desperately to grab hold and cling on, while being sucked inexorably downwards in ever-decreasing circles until they start circling the bottom and fall out of the Cervix of Doom.
The most helpful thing I've found to counteract that mental image is an article which pointed out that the uterus doesn't look like that at all, and the space we see in the diagrams is actually just a potential space. When you see it on an ultrasound, there's no great gaping space - just two lines with a greater or lesser amount of grey stuff between them, depending on where you are in your cycle and how thick your lining is.
This article describes the two sides of the uterus as being more like two slices of bread stuck together to form a sandwich. The lining is the jam in the middle, and the embryos are like little raspberry pips in the jam.
I'm clinging onto that image, because all I can think is that these little chaps really are awfully tiny, and it wouldn't take much of a gap at all for them to slip through it.
That feeling is, of course, not helped by the typical diagram of the female reproductive organs, which shows the uterus as a great empty cavity. I imagine Rucksack and Ray-Ray floating round this great empty space, occasionally hitting a side and trying desperately to grab hold and cling on, while being sucked inexorably downwards in ever-decreasing circles until they start circling the bottom and fall out of the Cervix of Doom.
The most helpful thing I've found to counteract that mental image is an article which pointed out that the uterus doesn't look like that at all, and the space we see in the diagrams is actually just a potential space. When you see it on an ultrasound, there's no great gaping space - just two lines with a greater or lesser amount of grey stuff between them, depending on where you are in your cycle and how thick your lining is.
This article describes the two sides of the uterus as being more like two slices of bread stuck together to form a sandwich. The lining is the jam in the middle, and the embryos are like little raspberry pips in the jam.
I'm clinging onto that image, because all I can think is that these little chaps really are awfully tiny, and it wouldn't take much of a gap at all for them to slip through it.
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