After a little over three weeks of buserilin, I had my downregulation scan today, to see if I could start taking the next lot of drugs.
My lining was nice and thin, both ovaries were inactive, and it only took two nurses three attempts to take a bit of blood from me (which is fine - I know I have difficult veins, and the bruise really isn't that big).
But ... there's always a 'but'.
It seems I have another polyp, and the consultant rang this afternoon to say they want to do another scan to see whether it's likely to get in the way of implantation. Someone will ring me to arrange the appointment, so for the moment I'm in limbo again.
I asked if they could just do the hysteroscopy and get on with it if necessary, without abandoning this cycle. The answer was no - they don't do hysteroscopies at this clinic, so they would have to refer me to the NHS (which would take for ever) or I'd have to find another private clinic that was willing and able to do it at short notice.
Suddenly my stress levels are increasing again. I really don't want to abandon this cycle, but if there's any chance this polyp will adversely affect the outcome, I don't want to carry on until I'm rid of it.
Monday, 27 June 2011
Saturday, 11 June 2011
A week in
So, I've injected my buserilin for seven days now, and sure enough, it has delayed AF. I find myself once again waiting for AF to turn up so that I can get on with treatment - but since the next week is going to be even busier than last, I don't mind if the delay lasts a little longer.
I'm doing OK so far - I've felt like AF was on her way for the last four days or so, and I'm getting a bit bloated in the evenings. I got a bit overemotional about a misunderstanding yesterday, but to be honest, I think I'd have got overemotional about it even without all the drugs - someone I'd never met before was basically questioning my integrity and was quite rude to me, and cancelled an arrangement that I'd made with his wife without consulting her. The story's a lot longer and more involved than that, but I found it very upsetting.
On Thursday I dropped in at our first clinic to pick up copies of some paperwork that the new clinic wanted. I was surprised to feel absolutely nothing as I walked in - I think the scars from that first treatment have healed over now.
It still doesn't really feel real that I'm going to have an FET within (hopefully) the next month or so. I veer between feeling confident that it'll work (which is actually quite a rare feeling) and being absolutely certain that it won't. In reality, I just can't imagine any treatment ever working for us. The universe isn't fair, and it's not a question of waiting for 'my turn'. The total unfairness of what has happened to Egghunt confirms that, and I feel desperately sad for her. It's been her 'turn' for as long as I've been reading her blog, and I can't believe how much crap she has had to put up with, and continues to have to deal with.
So I'll keep sticking needles in my stomach and keep plodding on to the next stage, but at the moment it feels more as though I'm doing this because I'll regret not having done it if I don't, rather than because I think there's a baby at the end of it. The hardest thing is coping with the expectations of others, who are convinced whatever I say that it's going to work this time. I can finally see the value of not telling people what's going on, but keeping my mouth shut and not answering questions honestly when people ask is just not in my nature.
And so we wait...
I'm doing OK so far - I've felt like AF was on her way for the last four days or so, and I'm getting a bit bloated in the evenings. I got a bit overemotional about a misunderstanding yesterday, but to be honest, I think I'd have got overemotional about it even without all the drugs - someone I'd never met before was basically questioning my integrity and was quite rude to me, and cancelled an arrangement that I'd made with his wife without consulting her. The story's a lot longer and more involved than that, but I found it very upsetting.
On Thursday I dropped in at our first clinic to pick up copies of some paperwork that the new clinic wanted. I was surprised to feel absolutely nothing as I walked in - I think the scars from that first treatment have healed over now.
It still doesn't really feel real that I'm going to have an FET within (hopefully) the next month or so. I veer between feeling confident that it'll work (which is actually quite a rare feeling) and being absolutely certain that it won't. In reality, I just can't imagine any treatment ever working for us. The universe isn't fair, and it's not a question of waiting for 'my turn'. The total unfairness of what has happened to Egghunt confirms that, and I feel desperately sad for her. It's been her 'turn' for as long as I've been reading her blog, and I can't believe how much crap she has had to put up with, and continues to have to deal with.
So I'll keep sticking needles in my stomach and keep plodding on to the next stage, but at the moment it feels more as though I'm doing this because I'll regret not having done it if I don't, rather than because I think there's a baby at the end of it. The hardest thing is coping with the expectations of others, who are convinced whatever I say that it's going to work this time. I can finally see the value of not telling people what's going on, but keeping my mouth shut and not answering questions honestly when people ask is just not in my nature.
And so we wait...
Sunday, 5 June 2011
And so it begins
This week is half term, and we had Nieces #1, #2 and #3 for a sleepover on Thursday night, so on Friday morning I was woken just before 6:00 by #2 and #3 crawling into our bed. We watched a Brambly Hedge DVD while DH got up and got ready for work, then went downstairs and made pancakes for breakfast.
Once they were dressed and all the sticky syrup had been cleaned up, I left them playing while I phoned the clinic to get any last instructions and pay the final bill for the medication.
We then went out for the day to a model village near where I live. My sister and Niece #4 joined us at lunchtime, and I took loads of photos. The weather was beautiful, and we ended up going round the village three times and having two reasonably long stints in the play area.
I came home, relaxed for a few minutes with a cup of tea, gave myself an injection, then settled down to watch some of my favourite programmes on the telly. DH was out boozing with his colleagues - a rare occurrence, but one of them was leaving on Friday, so they were giving him a good send-off.
Yesterday, I did my Saturday morning chores, went through my photos and uploaded some of them to Facebook for my family to see, wandered down into town with DH, where I had an eye test and we went for a coffee in Starbucks, read the newspapers in the sunshine, gave myself an injection, then in the evening we ordered a takeaway curry and ate it in front of the telly.
Do you see what I'm getting at here? At the moment, these injections are no big deal at all - I even have to set an alarm on my phone to remind myself to take them. I'm also totally relaxed about DH having a nice evening out with his friends, even if he did text me from the train to say that he'd had a bit too much to drink and would sleep in the spare room.
Part of what makes me so relaxed is that I'm not worrying about the quality of my eggs and DH's sperm this time round. Part of it is that I haven't yet had to go to the clinic. They sent all the drugs by post, and they've already been knocking around the house for a couple of weeks. When I phoned them yesterday they just told me to call again when AF shows up, to book my downregulation scan. So it's all very low key, and I don't have enough hormones swimming around my body yet to have turned me into IVFzilla (much to DH's relief).
The next fortnight is going to be very busy with work, then I have a brief hiatus of a week or so before I head into another very busy period. So my mind will have plenty to occupy it, and I hope this means that the relaxed attitude will continue.
Part of my mind is already preparing me for what feels like inevitable failure - I've had so many disappointments, I almost can't bear to hope that this time we'll be lucky. But another part of my mind is remembering how July was meant to be an important month for me, and calculating that either my transfer or my test (or maybe even both) should definitely be taking place in July...
Once they were dressed and all the sticky syrup had been cleaned up, I left them playing while I phoned the clinic to get any last instructions and pay the final bill for the medication.
We then went out for the day to a model village near where I live. My sister and Niece #4 joined us at lunchtime, and I took loads of photos. The weather was beautiful, and we ended up going round the village three times and having two reasonably long stints in the play area.
I came home, relaxed for a few minutes with a cup of tea, gave myself an injection, then settled down to watch some of my favourite programmes on the telly. DH was out boozing with his colleagues - a rare occurrence, but one of them was leaving on Friday, so they were giving him a good send-off.
Yesterday, I did my Saturday morning chores, went through my photos and uploaded some of them to Facebook for my family to see, wandered down into town with DH, where I had an eye test and we went for a coffee in Starbucks, read the newspapers in the sunshine, gave myself an injection, then in the evening we ordered a takeaway curry and ate it in front of the telly.
Do you see what I'm getting at here? At the moment, these injections are no big deal at all - I even have to set an alarm on my phone to remind myself to take them. I'm also totally relaxed about DH having a nice evening out with his friends, even if he did text me from the train to say that he'd had a bit too much to drink and would sleep in the spare room.
Part of what makes me so relaxed is that I'm not worrying about the quality of my eggs and DH's sperm this time round. Part of it is that I haven't yet had to go to the clinic. They sent all the drugs by post, and they've already been knocking around the house for a couple of weeks. When I phoned them yesterday they just told me to call again when AF shows up, to book my downregulation scan. So it's all very low key, and I don't have enough hormones swimming around my body yet to have turned me into IVFzilla (much to DH's relief).
The next fortnight is going to be very busy with work, then I have a brief hiatus of a week or so before I head into another very busy period. So my mind will have plenty to occupy it, and I hope this means that the relaxed attitude will continue.
Part of my mind is already preparing me for what feels like inevitable failure - I've had so many disappointments, I almost can't bear to hope that this time we'll be lucky. But another part of my mind is remembering how July was meant to be an important month for me, and calculating that either my transfer or my test (or maybe even both) should definitely be taking place in July...
Saturday, 28 May 2011
Into the countdown
We're on our third clinic now, and I find it interesting to see the differences in the way they all operate. This one is the first to send drugs all at once through the post - just as well, since it's also the furthest from home - and I now have a huge box of drugs on my kitchen table, waiting for us to get started.
I'm doing a medicated FET, so have to start by downregging - this will be the first time I've done this, as all my IVFs were on the short protocol. All being well, I'll be starting with daily injections of buserilin this coming Friday.
My new business is one which is always likely to be busiest in May, June, July, and then in October, November and early December. I'm really pleased to have several bookings for late June and early July, but it does mean that appointments are going to have to be juggled to fit round work - with such a new business, I can't turn stuff down, and most of the bookings are for specific events and so can't be varied. I think it'll be good to have work that I enjoy to take my mind off obsessing about the treatment, and I've worked out my dates quite carefully so that they shouldn't clash with any appointments - as long as my body is playing ball.
It's been a busy week - in fact, a busy six weeks, with trips to three different countries for three different major events in the lives of our friends and family - but this weekend we're home and can relax and recharge our batteries. My sister's coming for lunch tomorrow, and we're going to see DH's parents on Monday, but for today I can just potter around and do very little - bliss.
It's funny - I haven't really thought further than the logistics of starting to take the drugs and what monitoring appointments I might need (to avoid clashes with work bookings). It's as if I was just planning to do injections for a few weeks and then get back to normal.
In reality, of course, I hope that 'normal' is going to be looking very different from now on...
I'm doing a medicated FET, so have to start by downregging - this will be the first time I've done this, as all my IVFs were on the short protocol. All being well, I'll be starting with daily injections of buserilin this coming Friday.
My new business is one which is always likely to be busiest in May, June, July, and then in October, November and early December. I'm really pleased to have several bookings for late June and early July, but it does mean that appointments are going to have to be juggled to fit round work - with such a new business, I can't turn stuff down, and most of the bookings are for specific events and so can't be varied. I think it'll be good to have work that I enjoy to take my mind off obsessing about the treatment, and I've worked out my dates quite carefully so that they shouldn't clash with any appointments - as long as my body is playing ball.
It's been a busy week - in fact, a busy six weeks, with trips to three different countries for three different major events in the lives of our friends and family - but this weekend we're home and can relax and recharge our batteries. My sister's coming for lunch tomorrow, and we're going to see DH's parents on Monday, but for today I can just potter around and do very little - bliss.
It's funny - I haven't really thought further than the logistics of starting to take the drugs and what monitoring appointments I might need (to avoid clashes with work bookings). It's as if I was just planning to do injections for a few weeks and then get back to normal.
In reality, of course, I hope that 'normal' is going to be looking very different from now on...
Tuesday, 24 May 2011
Conversation with a 4-year-old
I spent an hour or so on my own this afternoon with #2 Niece, while #1 was at school and my sister was out with #3 and #4. As she sat on my lap after I finished reading her a book, we had the following conversation:
#2 (a propos of nothing): When I grow up, I want to be a mummy.
Me: That's good. I'd like to be a mummy too.
#2 (turning to look seriously into my eyes): But you're not a mummy. Before you can be a mummy you have to get a baby in your tummy.
Me: I know.
#2: My mummy has had babies in her tummy. But you've never had a baby in your tummy.
Me: No.
#2: You can't be a mummy until you get a baby in your tummy, you know.
And so it went on. A 4-year-0ld has a great way of grabbing hold of a topic and not letting it go...
#2 (a propos of nothing): When I grow up, I want to be a mummy.
Me: That's good. I'd like to be a mummy too.
#2 (turning to look seriously into my eyes): But you're not a mummy. Before you can be a mummy you have to get a baby in your tummy.
Me: I know.
#2: My mummy has had babies in her tummy. But you've never had a baby in your tummy.
Me: No.
#2: You can't be a mummy until you get a baby in your tummy, you know.
And so it went on. A 4-year-0ld has a great way of grabbing hold of a topic and not letting it go...
Monday, 23 May 2011
Out of the blue
My DH isn't brilliant at keeping in touch with people (at least, not without some heavy prompting from me). So although he sees one particular friend as his best friend, he sees nothing unusual in going months without having any contact with him.
Last time DH met up with his best friend, they discussed IF matters. Their entire conversation went something like this:
DH: "We're having trouble having children."
BF: "Us too. We've been for tests."
DH: "Us too. Do you want another drink?"
This was over 18 months ago, and I've been nagging him to contact BF ever since. When he came home and relayed the conversation to me, I asked him for more details, but he didn't have any. After a couple of months had gone by, I said that even if he and BF didn't want to talk about it, BF's wife and I could be a support for each other, if we were going through the same sort of things.
Last week DH finally got round to calling BF. I was out working all day, and came home in the evening exhausted. The first thing he said as I walked through the door was, "I spoke to BF. Guess what? His wife's 8 months pregnant. IVF - first attempt. On the NHS."
I'm not sure how long they'd been actively trying, but when I first met them, before we were even engaged, DH told me that the car they drove had been specifically bought with a view to it being a family car. They had said that they weren't trying yet because the time wasn't right with their jobs, but who knows whether that was just an excuse to avoid having to talk about it?
I don't think I was as excited by the news as he might have hoped. In fact, I felt like he'd punched me in the stomach. Maybe if we'd been in touch with them while they were going through all the testing and then the treatment, I'd have felt more in tune with her and been as excited as she was when she got her BFP. To get as far as going through IVF, there must have been some pretty major bumps in the road, and some times when they thought it was never going to happen for them, and they must really have wanted it to happen - and as someone who knows exactly what it's like to go through all that, I should be delighted that they've finally got what they wanted.
As it is, I'm left with the feeling that they've had it easy. One minute they're 'having tests', and the next thing I know, they're popping out a baby, courtesy of the good old NHS. And once again, we've been left behind.
Am I allowed to admit that I'm a teensy bit jealous? And that I won't be quite as insistent on nagging DH to keep in touch with them over the next few months?
Last time DH met up with his best friend, they discussed IF matters. Their entire conversation went something like this:
DH: "We're having trouble having children."
BF: "Us too. We've been for tests."
DH: "Us too. Do you want another drink?"
This was over 18 months ago, and I've been nagging him to contact BF ever since. When he came home and relayed the conversation to me, I asked him for more details, but he didn't have any. After a couple of months had gone by, I said that even if he and BF didn't want to talk about it, BF's wife and I could be a support for each other, if we were going through the same sort of things.
Last week DH finally got round to calling BF. I was out working all day, and came home in the evening exhausted. The first thing he said as I walked through the door was, "I spoke to BF. Guess what? His wife's 8 months pregnant. IVF - first attempt. On the NHS."
I'm not sure how long they'd been actively trying, but when I first met them, before we were even engaged, DH told me that the car they drove had been specifically bought with a view to it being a family car. They had said that they weren't trying yet because the time wasn't right with their jobs, but who knows whether that was just an excuse to avoid having to talk about it?
I don't think I was as excited by the news as he might have hoped. In fact, I felt like he'd punched me in the stomach. Maybe if we'd been in touch with them while they were going through all the testing and then the treatment, I'd have felt more in tune with her and been as excited as she was when she got her BFP. To get as far as going through IVF, there must have been some pretty major bumps in the road, and some times when they thought it was never going to happen for them, and they must really have wanted it to happen - and as someone who knows exactly what it's like to go through all that, I should be delighted that they've finally got what they wanted.
As it is, I'm left with the feeling that they've had it easy. One minute they're 'having tests', and the next thing I know, they're popping out a baby, courtesy of the good old NHS. And once again, we've been left behind.
Am I allowed to admit that I'm a teensy bit jealous? And that I won't be quite as insistent on nagging DH to keep in touch with them over the next few months?
Wednesday, 11 May 2011
Recognition
Some might say our timing was bad - having lived through UK Mothers' Day, we managed to be in the US for US Mothers' Day as well. And at the Mass we went to, the priest invited all mothers to stand up before the final blessing so that he could give them a special blessing.
There was a couple sitting directly in front of us, on their own - probably about our age. I noticed that when the mothers were invited to stand up, she remained sitting. And I also noticed that her husband patted her thigh a couple of times and then held her hand tightly during the blessing.
Funny, the way you come across infertility so often once you know it's there...
There was a couple sitting directly in front of us, on their own - probably about our age. I noticed that when the mothers were invited to stand up, she remained sitting. And I also noticed that her husband patted her thigh a couple of times and then held her hand tightly during the blessing.
Funny, the way you come across infertility so often once you know it's there...
Thursday, 28 April 2011
Booking in
Life has been hectic around here lately, and will be for a couple more weeks - over a six week period, we will have had trips to Spain, the US and the Czech Republic, as well as lots of travel around the UK.
One of our UK trips last week was to visit the new clinic. We had meetings with the donation co-ordinator, the counsellor (it's compulsory to have counselling before any sort of donor treatment here, although I do wonder how useful a single one hour session would be if you hadn't already worked through the issues beforehand) and the consultant, as well as the usual scans and blood tests.
I found the whole scan experience mildly amusing, as there was a new nurse there who was learning the ropes and asked if she could sit in on my scan. Over the next half hour or more, I sat there half naked in the most undignified position as the experienced nurse gave the new nurse a very thorough tour of my reproductive organs ("This setting allows you to see the blood flow to the uterus... And if we press this button here, we can get a 3D picture of her left ovary", etc). Fortunately, after 3 full IVF treatments, I have no more pride and simply followed the show with great interest.
I loved our new consultant. I was a little anxious at the possibility of an unmedicated FET, because after my body has let me down so many times in the last three years, I don't really trust it any more to do what it's supposed to do. So I was delighted when he listed out all the drugs that he was planning to give me. We gave him a copy of our file from XXXX clinic, and he saw that I had had immune treatment there and said he would do the same - as much to reassure me as anything. He said they usually give progesterone in pessary form, and I found myself saying that I felt more secure with gestone by injection. He didn't question it, just noted a reminder to himself on the file to prescribe gestone for me - so I've let myself in for another fortnight (or hopefully longer if it's successful) of having a dead leg.
All in all, we felt really positive about the whole experience, and are now looking forward to getting started with the FET - probably some time in June or July. And in the meantime, I have some more relaxing to do...
One of our UK trips last week was to visit the new clinic. We had meetings with the donation co-ordinator, the counsellor (it's compulsory to have counselling before any sort of donor treatment here, although I do wonder how useful a single one hour session would be if you hadn't already worked through the issues beforehand) and the consultant, as well as the usual scans and blood tests.
I found the whole scan experience mildly amusing, as there was a new nurse there who was learning the ropes and asked if she could sit in on my scan. Over the next half hour or more, I sat there half naked in the most undignified position as the experienced nurse gave the new nurse a very thorough tour of my reproductive organs ("This setting allows you to see the blood flow to the uterus... And if we press this button here, we can get a 3D picture of her left ovary", etc). Fortunately, after 3 full IVF treatments, I have no more pride and simply followed the show with great interest.
I loved our new consultant. I was a little anxious at the possibility of an unmedicated FET, because after my body has let me down so many times in the last three years, I don't really trust it any more to do what it's supposed to do. So I was delighted when he listed out all the drugs that he was planning to give me. We gave him a copy of our file from XXXX clinic, and he saw that I had had immune treatment there and said he would do the same - as much to reassure me as anything. He said they usually give progesterone in pessary form, and I found myself saying that I felt more secure with gestone by injection. He didn't question it, just noted a reminder to himself on the file to prescribe gestone for me - so I've let myself in for another fortnight (or hopefully longer if it's successful) of having a dead leg.
All in all, we felt really positive about the whole experience, and are now looking forward to getting started with the FET - probably some time in June or July. And in the meantime, I have some more relaxing to do...
Tuesday, 5 April 2011
Quick update
First of all, thank you so much to all those who have kept checking in and have left messages asking how we're doing. I'm so sorry I've been such a bad blogger recently - over the last month, I haven't even been reading blogs, and I do intend to catch up with all of your news as soon as I can (which probably means next week some time).
So, what's been going on for the last month?
Well, having got the news about the embryos, I went in for my blood test hoping that I would get a clear answer one way or the other - and I did. My FSH was 14.1, which was the highest it's ever been.
This was the signal we needed that we were making the right decision, and although I did have some sadness when I heard the result, I immediately contacted the new clinic to accept the offer of the embryos.
We've been in a bit of a holding pattern since then - having filled in a pile of paperwork, we were given a date for our initial appointment at the clinic, which will be in a couple of weeks' time.
This all happened about five days before Lent began, and for those five days DH and I indulged ourselves in all the things we enjoy that we have been denying ourselves for the last couple of years - treats like wine, beer, chocolate, a cream tea... And now it's Lent, and the reason I'm depriving myself of any of the things I enjoy is completely different and not surrounded by stress and angst.
It's been unbelievable how as soon as we had properly made the decision and come to terms with it, it was as though a huge weight lifted off both our shoulders. I've been so stressed for so long about our IF that I'd stopped even realising how profoundly it was affecting me - barely an hour went by over a period of about two years without me worrying in one form or another about whether I was doing the right thing, whether there was anything extra that I could do to improve our chances of being parents, whether we would ever have children, etc, etc.
I don't know whether our donor treatment will work, and I know I'll be devastated if it doesn't. But it's unbelievable the extent to which we are now comfortable with the idea that we're never going to have a child that's genetically related to us, and the extent to which I've managed to relax over the last month.
So although I'm sorry I've been so neglectful of my bloggy friends over the last month, and I have still been thinking of you and praying for you even if I haven't been following your blogs, in my case I can definitely say that no news has been good news for me, and I'm enjoying this period of calm before the upcoming turbulence of our next round of treatment.
So, what's been going on for the last month?
Well, having got the news about the embryos, I went in for my blood test hoping that I would get a clear answer one way or the other - and I did. My FSH was 14.1, which was the highest it's ever been.
This was the signal we needed that we were making the right decision, and although I did have some sadness when I heard the result, I immediately contacted the new clinic to accept the offer of the embryos.
We've been in a bit of a holding pattern since then - having filled in a pile of paperwork, we were given a date for our initial appointment at the clinic, which will be in a couple of weeks' time.
This all happened about five days before Lent began, and for those five days DH and I indulged ourselves in all the things we enjoy that we have been denying ourselves for the last couple of years - treats like wine, beer, chocolate, a cream tea... And now it's Lent, and the reason I'm depriving myself of any of the things I enjoy is completely different and not surrounded by stress and angst.
It's been unbelievable how as soon as we had properly made the decision and come to terms with it, it was as though a huge weight lifted off both our shoulders. I've been so stressed for so long about our IF that I'd stopped even realising how profoundly it was affecting me - barely an hour went by over a period of about two years without me worrying in one form or another about whether I was doing the right thing, whether there was anything extra that I could do to improve our chances of being parents, whether we would ever have children, etc, etc.
I don't know whether our donor treatment will work, and I know I'll be devastated if it doesn't. But it's unbelievable the extent to which we are now comfortable with the idea that we're never going to have a child that's genetically related to us, and the extent to which I've managed to relax over the last month.
So although I'm sorry I've been so neglectful of my bloggy friends over the last month, and I have still been thinking of you and praying for you even if I haven't been following your blogs, in my case I can definitely say that no news has been good news for me, and I'm enjoying this period of calm before the upcoming turbulence of our next round of treatment.
Wednesday, 2 March 2011
Big news
Sorry I've been such a bad blogger recently - I promise I'll catch up on all your blogs soon.
This last month has been a fairly difficult one in many ways - coming to terms with yet another disappointment, the new baby obsession in the family with another new niece coming along, the sudden realisation that even if we hadn't decided to give up on our own eggs and sperm after this month, we have other commitments in the next two months which mean we probably wouldn't have been able to try again anyway before June... I've also been very busy with work, but now have a quieter period coming up which will hopefully allow me to concentrate on other things.
Anyway, today is CD1 - two days early again, just to keep me on my toes, so tomorrow I'll be heading into XXXX Clinic for what will almost certainly be my final CD1-3 blood test for treatment with our own eggs and sperm.
And a couple of weeks after my first call to her, the person I spoke to at the new clinic has just called me back and said they have a couple of embryos available for us! The physical characteristics of the donors are broadly similar to ours, and if we say yes it should all happen pretty quickly.
The embryos have also been offered to another couple, and basically the first couple to accept them will get them. I need to find out what DH's work schedule is over the next couple of months, and how easy it's going to be for him to get time off - he's just been put onto a new project at work which could change things a bit, and the new clinic is 200 miles away, so he would definitely need time off for appointments. We would need to see the consultant there and also have compulsory counselling at the clinic before going ahead with the procedure.
The co-ordinator is out of the office until Monday, by which time we'll have the results of my blood tests at XXXX Clinic and will know whether we're going to go ahead there.
I'm almost tempted to say we should just forget about the appointment at XXXX Clinic and go straight ahead with the donor treatment - these will be embryos from a batch that has already successfully produced at least one living child, and we all know my track history of IVF failure.
But one way or another, by this time next week we could be one step closer to becoming parents!
This last month has been a fairly difficult one in many ways - coming to terms with yet another disappointment, the new baby obsession in the family with another new niece coming along, the sudden realisation that even if we hadn't decided to give up on our own eggs and sperm after this month, we have other commitments in the next two months which mean we probably wouldn't have been able to try again anyway before June... I've also been very busy with work, but now have a quieter period coming up which will hopefully allow me to concentrate on other things.
Anyway, today is CD1 - two days early again, just to keep me on my toes, so tomorrow I'll be heading into XXXX Clinic for what will almost certainly be my final CD1-3 blood test for treatment with our own eggs and sperm.
And a couple of weeks after my first call to her, the person I spoke to at the new clinic has just called me back and said they have a couple of embryos available for us! The physical characteristics of the donors are broadly similar to ours, and if we say yes it should all happen pretty quickly.
The embryos have also been offered to another couple, and basically the first couple to accept them will get them. I need to find out what DH's work schedule is over the next couple of months, and how easy it's going to be for him to get time off - he's just been put onto a new project at work which could change things a bit, and the new clinic is 200 miles away, so he would definitely need time off for appointments. We would need to see the consultant there and also have compulsory counselling at the clinic before going ahead with the procedure.
The co-ordinator is out of the office until Monday, by which time we'll have the results of my blood tests at XXXX Clinic and will know whether we're going to go ahead there.
I'm almost tempted to say we should just forget about the appointment at XXXX Clinic and go straight ahead with the donor treatment - these will be embryos from a batch that has already successfully produced at least one living child, and we all know my track history of IVF failure.
But one way or another, by this time next week we could be one step closer to becoming parents!
Tuesday, 8 February 2011
The higher the hopes...
I allowed myself to be hopeful this month. It was our last month before moving on to donor treatment, and maybe I needed that bit of hope. Maybe I just wasn't ready to say goodbye to my dream of having my own baby. Clearly, I'm still not.
So I admit it - first, I stupidly allowed myself to get a bit hopeful that a miracle might have happened when AF showed up two days late. But of course, show up she did.
Then I went in for my blood test yesterday and my FSH and E2 levels were good - 9 and 184 respectively. The nurse commented how good they were, and seemed pretty certain that we'd be starting on the short protocol today - provided today's blood test and scan were OK. And again, I allowed myself to get hopeful and started working out how I would fit my work in around trips to London for blood tests, etc.
I went in this morning and the scan showed up a clear right ovary, but two cysts on the left - one at 10mm, the other at 13mm. There were three possible outcomes - aspiration probably tomorrow followed by an immediate start on the short protocol, starting straight away with the follicular protocol, or being told that yet again this wasn't a suitable month. It all depended on the blood test, and stupidly, I allowed myself to hope that it would still come out OK. After all, it looked as though I had two chances out of three.
So I was pretty upset when they phoned and gave me the same old rubbish about this not being an ideal month, but if the same thing happened next month we'd go ahead with the follicular protocol.
I pointed out that this is what I'd been told in December, and it HAD happened again, so surely we should be starting this month. No, the nurse said Mr Miracle Worker wanted to see if the cysts would go away on their own. I pointed out that I have had at least one cyst 10mm or above EVERY SINGLE TIME THEY'VE SCANNED ME, from last March onwards. I even had one when we did our cycle last July. So they're obviously not going to go away on their own, and leaving it one more month is just wasting another month while I continue to get older.
So I don't get to go ahead, but nor do I get closure, because they're still dangling the possibility before me of something happening next month. We'll go ahead and contact the new clinic about donor treatment anyway, because we'll probably have to go on a waiting list with them and we might as well get the ball rolling. And if next month I finally get a chance to have a last shot at XXXX clinic, we can always remove ourselves from the waiting list if it's successful - not that I'm holding my breath.
I don't know if I'm so upset because I had allowed my hopes to get up over the last three or four days.
Or because I'm moving on to the next plan without getting any sort of closure on the current situation.
Or because I'm angry that the clinic seems to have gone back on the promise they made me in December and won't properly explain why or respond to my arguments.
Or because I'm just so fed up with the answer to my prayers always being the same - "No, not for you".
Or maybe it's because everyone else in my family is so excited today, because my latest niece was born in the early hours of this morning. And I can't read all the messages of congratulation, and my brother's excited post on Facebook, without crying so hard that the computer screen in front of me disappears into a blur - and I'm sorry to say that they're not tears of joy, but of self-pity.
Tomorrow I'll be ready to face the world again. I'll be excited about my new niece, and making plans to go and meet her.
But for today, I have a nice big piece of work to do which is not difficult but requires total concentration, and I'm going to wash my face and bury myself in that piece of work. And if the phone rings, I'm going to ignore it, because just for today, I can't bring myself to be excited about yet another person getting what I want, at the same time as trying to come to terms with the fact that it looks more and more likely that I'm never going to have it.
Sometimes it's easier not to have any hope, because the higher the hopes, the greater the disappointment.
So I admit it - first, I stupidly allowed myself to get a bit hopeful that a miracle might have happened when AF showed up two days late. But of course, show up she did.
Then I went in for my blood test yesterday and my FSH and E2 levels were good - 9 and 184 respectively. The nurse commented how good they were, and seemed pretty certain that we'd be starting on the short protocol today - provided today's blood test and scan were OK. And again, I allowed myself to get hopeful and started working out how I would fit my work in around trips to London for blood tests, etc.
I went in this morning and the scan showed up a clear right ovary, but two cysts on the left - one at 10mm, the other at 13mm. There were three possible outcomes - aspiration probably tomorrow followed by an immediate start on the short protocol, starting straight away with the follicular protocol, or being told that yet again this wasn't a suitable month. It all depended on the blood test, and stupidly, I allowed myself to hope that it would still come out OK. After all, it looked as though I had two chances out of three.
So I was pretty upset when they phoned and gave me the same old rubbish about this not being an ideal month, but if the same thing happened next month we'd go ahead with the follicular protocol.
I pointed out that this is what I'd been told in December, and it HAD happened again, so surely we should be starting this month. No, the nurse said Mr Miracle Worker wanted to see if the cysts would go away on their own. I pointed out that I have had at least one cyst 10mm or above EVERY SINGLE TIME THEY'VE SCANNED ME, from last March onwards. I even had one when we did our cycle last July. So they're obviously not going to go away on their own, and leaving it one more month is just wasting another month while I continue to get older.
So I don't get to go ahead, but nor do I get closure, because they're still dangling the possibility before me of something happening next month. We'll go ahead and contact the new clinic about donor treatment anyway, because we'll probably have to go on a waiting list with them and we might as well get the ball rolling. And if next month I finally get a chance to have a last shot at XXXX clinic, we can always remove ourselves from the waiting list if it's successful - not that I'm holding my breath.
I don't know if I'm so upset because I had allowed my hopes to get up over the last three or four days.
Or because I'm moving on to the next plan without getting any sort of closure on the current situation.
Or because I'm angry that the clinic seems to have gone back on the promise they made me in December and won't properly explain why or respond to my arguments.
Or because I'm just so fed up with the answer to my prayers always being the same - "No, not for you".
Or maybe it's because everyone else in my family is so excited today, because my latest niece was born in the early hours of this morning. And I can't read all the messages of congratulation, and my brother's excited post on Facebook, without crying so hard that the computer screen in front of me disappears into a blur - and I'm sorry to say that they're not tears of joy, but of self-pity.
Tomorrow I'll be ready to face the world again. I'll be excited about my new niece, and making plans to go and meet her.
But for today, I have a nice big piece of work to do which is not difficult but requires total concentration, and I'm going to wash my face and bury myself in that piece of work. And if the phone rings, I'm going to ignore it, because just for today, I can't bring myself to be excited about yet another person getting what I want, at the same time as trying to come to terms with the fact that it looks more and more likely that I'm never going to have it.
Sometimes it's easier not to have any hope, because the higher the hopes, the greater the disappointment.
Sunday, 30 January 2011
Busy busy busy
I've been a bad blogger recently - partly because when you've had as many months as I have waiting around for AF to turn up and then being told that this isn't a good month for treatment, there isn't really a lot left to say; partly because I've been working hard on Operation Destress, which has involved quite a lot of trying to avoid thinking about anything that gets me stressed; and partly because work has suddenly turned really busy.
I'll say it cautiously, but it looks as though my dream of still being self-employed by the end of the year is one dream that will come true in 2011 - I won't make a fortune, but this month I made enough to cover the bills with a little bit left to tide me over the less profitable months. I've got enough work to keep me going flat out till the end of February, and several good leads for the coming months. That's quite an achievement after four months of self-employment, and I still love my new boss!
The other dream for 2011 is never far from my mind, and I'm on another huge health kick with the supplements, wheatgrass, healthy diet, no sugar, no caffeine, no alcohol, etc. Still going to reflexology and coaching sessions, trying to get more sleep at night, having some really good discussions with DH and feeling happy that we're so much more on the same page at the moment. Waiting for my latest niece to show up - her due date was on Friday.
I can't do more than I'm doing, and I'm hoping against hope that it's enough.
I'll say it cautiously, but it looks as though my dream of still being self-employed by the end of the year is one dream that will come true in 2011 - I won't make a fortune, but this month I made enough to cover the bills with a little bit left to tide me over the less profitable months. I've got enough work to keep me going flat out till the end of February, and several good leads for the coming months. That's quite an achievement after four months of self-employment, and I still love my new boss!
The other dream for 2011 is never far from my mind, and I'm on another huge health kick with the supplements, wheatgrass, healthy diet, no sugar, no caffeine, no alcohol, etc. Still going to reflexology and coaching sessions, trying to get more sleep at night, having some really good discussions with DH and feeling happy that we're so much more on the same page at the moment. Waiting for my latest niece to show up - her due date was on Friday.
I can't do more than I'm doing, and I'm hoping against hope that it's enough.
Monday, 17 January 2011
Control - again!
Once again, I'm hopping onto the computer briefly before dashing out again. Funny, I can't think why people keep accusing me of being stressed...
I saw the reflexologist this morning, for the first time since before Christmas. She said she can feel that I'm very stressed, and this is something that really needs to be dealt with. As she put it, if there's a blockage in a river, the water can't flow - and in my body, there's a blockage caused by stress which is stopping the hormones from flowing the way they should.
So she said I should stop worrying about trying to pick up the pieces after everyone else and solve all their problems, and concentrate on what I need. (Funny, it's exactly the sort of thing my coach says as well.)
The thing is, it's easy to say. In fact, DH and I both have trouble relaxing, and we have this thing where one of us will notice the other is getting a bit too stressy about something and scrunch all our muscles up really tightly, making our hands into tight little fists, as we say, "RE-E-E-E-L-A-A-A-A-A-X". It makes us laugh, but doesn't resolve any of the issues.
Last week, it was money I was worrying about. On Thursday, I talked about this with my coach. By the end of the day, two things had happened. The first is that a nice big chunk of work landed on my lap, which will comfortably pay this month's bills (and now I just have to worry about finding the time to get it all done without dropping any of my other balls).
The second is that I broached the subject with DH, and he said he had always found it hard to understand why I was so insistent on paying my own way, and that as soon as I said the word, he would be happy to sit down and talk about rearranging the family finances so that I didn't have to contribute as much until I was earning more. He also reiterated that as far as he's concerned, my number one priority at the moment shouldn't be to earn money and pay bills, but to relax and do whatever I feel I need to do in order to give us the best possible shot at succeeding in our next IVF.
Does it help that I've had it forcefully pointed out to me yet again that all the pressure I feel comes from myself, and that nobody else is making any demands on me?
Well, if it didn't sink in the first million times, why should it sink in any easier the million and first time?
How does a control freak relinquish control without worrying that the world will fall apart? If I stop madly juggling to try to keep all my balls in the air, it won't stop me worrying - I'll just worry about different things. Am I putting too much pressure on DH? How will X cope if I just suddenly withdraw the support I've been giving them for years? What if we start relying solely on DH's income and then he gets made redundant as well? Shouldn't I be working as hard as I always have, rather than sitting about trying to feel relaxed? What about saving for our retirement? What if we end up with a baby, but can't actually afford to feed and clothe it? What if I drop everything else in order to make this work, and then it doesn't work anyway? How would I pick everything up again?
So my immune system's shot to pieces, I've already had a cold and a stomach bug this year and we're only halfway through January, I'm trying to juggle self-employment in two completely different lines of work (one of which I'm already making a bit of money in and know I can continue to do so, the other of which I enjoy and want to do full-time if I can ever start making enough money, but have no bookings at all for January), my diary is getting fuller and fuller, I'm not sleeping again, and telling myself that I need to relax only makes me more stressed.
There's too much riding on this next month, and knowing that the only way to make it work is to relax more really doesn't help. If only I could hibernate...
I saw the reflexologist this morning, for the first time since before Christmas. She said she can feel that I'm very stressed, and this is something that really needs to be dealt with. As she put it, if there's a blockage in a river, the water can't flow - and in my body, there's a blockage caused by stress which is stopping the hormones from flowing the way they should.
So she said I should stop worrying about trying to pick up the pieces after everyone else and solve all their problems, and concentrate on what I need. (Funny, it's exactly the sort of thing my coach says as well.)
The thing is, it's easy to say. In fact, DH and I both have trouble relaxing, and we have this thing where one of us will notice the other is getting a bit too stressy about something and scrunch all our muscles up really tightly, making our hands into tight little fists, as we say, "RE-E-E-E-L-A-A-A-A-A-X". It makes us laugh, but doesn't resolve any of the issues.
Last week, it was money I was worrying about. On Thursday, I talked about this with my coach. By the end of the day, two things had happened. The first is that a nice big chunk of work landed on my lap, which will comfortably pay this month's bills (and now I just have to worry about finding the time to get it all done without dropping any of my other balls).
The second is that I broached the subject with DH, and he said he had always found it hard to understand why I was so insistent on paying my own way, and that as soon as I said the word, he would be happy to sit down and talk about rearranging the family finances so that I didn't have to contribute as much until I was earning more. He also reiterated that as far as he's concerned, my number one priority at the moment shouldn't be to earn money and pay bills, but to relax and do whatever I feel I need to do in order to give us the best possible shot at succeeding in our next IVF.
Does it help that I've had it forcefully pointed out to me yet again that all the pressure I feel comes from myself, and that nobody else is making any demands on me?
Well, if it didn't sink in the first million times, why should it sink in any easier the million and first time?
How does a control freak relinquish control without worrying that the world will fall apart? If I stop madly juggling to try to keep all my balls in the air, it won't stop me worrying - I'll just worry about different things. Am I putting too much pressure on DH? How will X cope if I just suddenly withdraw the support I've been giving them for years? What if we start relying solely on DH's income and then he gets made redundant as well? Shouldn't I be working as hard as I always have, rather than sitting about trying to feel relaxed? What about saving for our retirement? What if we end up with a baby, but can't actually afford to feed and clothe it? What if I drop everything else in order to make this work, and then it doesn't work anyway? How would I pick everything up again?
So my immune system's shot to pieces, I've already had a cold and a stomach bug this year and we're only halfway through January, I'm trying to juggle self-employment in two completely different lines of work (one of which I'm already making a bit of money in and know I can continue to do so, the other of which I enjoy and want to do full-time if I can ever start making enough money, but have no bookings at all for January), my diary is getting fuller and fuller, I'm not sleeping again, and telling myself that I need to relax only makes me more stressed.
There's too much riding on this next month, and knowing that the only way to make it work is to relax more really doesn't help. If only I could hibernate...
Tuesday, 11 January 2011
Muddy waters
I'm sorry I've been AWOL for so long. It's not so bad that I haven't updated my own blog, but I also haven't been reading and commenting on anyone else's. In mitigation, I can tell you that I have been thinking of you and praying for you as usual, and I'll be catching up on your blogs this week.
My silence hasn't been for lack of things to talk about.
There was the lovely text I got from my sister on the feast of the Holy Family, which ended with the simple words, "Praying for your family on this feast."
There was the New Year's Eve party with a group of friends who had all, for various reasons, had a hard time in 2010, where at midnight we raised our glasses and said goodbye and good riddance to the old year.
There've been a couple more helpful sessions with my coach, who has helped me to change my perspective on some things and to be more positive.
There was the flat feeling I had in the first week of the new year, when I felt that I was in exactly the same position as I was at the beginning of 2010, and hadn't moved on at all. My coach helped me to see that this wasn't the case, and I may write a separate post on that.
And then this weekend AF showed up two days early, and I went back to the clinic for my blood test yesterday, full of hope that we would get started on this new protocol that Mr Greek God proposed shortly before Christmas.
I knew it wasn't going to be good news when the phone call didn't come until 6 pm, because they tend to call people who need to come in the next day first, and then the ones who don't.
Sure enough, although my oestradiol was nice and low at 73, my FSH was up again to 12.6, and Mr Miracle Worker is not willing to go ahead with FSH at that level, knowing that there have been a few cycles recently when it's been lower.
Having had my hopes raised last month, I was actually more gutted than I have been for a while to get this result. Whenever I've had a call from XXXX clinic telling me that it's not a suitable month (and that's happened several times over the last few months), I've been disappointed but philosophical, knowing that the aim is to choose the month with the best possible chance of success. Yesterday was the first time I can remember crying when putting the phone down on that call.
The reason I'm so upset by it is that it gives me yet another difficult choice. We had decided that if my levels weren't right this month, we would go ahead with donor embryo treatment. I don't think I'd realised how much I was hoping that this wouldn't happen. Also, because of the renewed glimmer of hope we were given last month with the promise of a new protocol, I feel once again unready to let go of that little bit of hope.
I discussed it with DH last night, and he listened and contributed to the discussion with a level of understanding, both practically and emotionally, that he didn't have this time last year.
The upshot of our discussion is that we are going to wait one more month to see whether my FSH comes back down in February and they allow us to try this new protocol. If not, then we get in touch with the donor clinic. I don't want to set off down that route until I've given up hope on the route we're currently travelling. In November, I'd almost lost hope and was ready to make that decision. In December, I was given a tiny bit of hope to cling onto, and it seems to have moved my thinking backwards.
It's funny how being given a little bit of hope can actually muddy the waters and make a decision harder, rather than easier.
My silence hasn't been for lack of things to talk about.
There was the lovely text I got from my sister on the feast of the Holy Family, which ended with the simple words, "Praying for your family on this feast."
There was the New Year's Eve party with a group of friends who had all, for various reasons, had a hard time in 2010, where at midnight we raised our glasses and said goodbye and good riddance to the old year.
There've been a couple more helpful sessions with my coach, who has helped me to change my perspective on some things and to be more positive.
There was the flat feeling I had in the first week of the new year, when I felt that I was in exactly the same position as I was at the beginning of 2010, and hadn't moved on at all. My coach helped me to see that this wasn't the case, and I may write a separate post on that.
And then this weekend AF showed up two days early, and I went back to the clinic for my blood test yesterday, full of hope that we would get started on this new protocol that Mr Greek God proposed shortly before Christmas.
I knew it wasn't going to be good news when the phone call didn't come until 6 pm, because they tend to call people who need to come in the next day first, and then the ones who don't.
Sure enough, although my oestradiol was nice and low at 73, my FSH was up again to 12.6, and Mr Miracle Worker is not willing to go ahead with FSH at that level, knowing that there have been a few cycles recently when it's been lower.
Having had my hopes raised last month, I was actually more gutted than I have been for a while to get this result. Whenever I've had a call from XXXX clinic telling me that it's not a suitable month (and that's happened several times over the last few months), I've been disappointed but philosophical, knowing that the aim is to choose the month with the best possible chance of success. Yesterday was the first time I can remember crying when putting the phone down on that call.
The reason I'm so upset by it is that it gives me yet another difficult choice. We had decided that if my levels weren't right this month, we would go ahead with donor embryo treatment. I don't think I'd realised how much I was hoping that this wouldn't happen. Also, because of the renewed glimmer of hope we were given last month with the promise of a new protocol, I feel once again unready to let go of that little bit of hope.
I discussed it with DH last night, and he listened and contributed to the discussion with a level of understanding, both practically and emotionally, that he didn't have this time last year.
The upshot of our discussion is that we are going to wait one more month to see whether my FSH comes back down in February and they allow us to try this new protocol. If not, then we get in touch with the donor clinic. I don't want to set off down that route until I've given up hope on the route we're currently travelling. In November, I'd almost lost hope and was ready to make that decision. In December, I was given a tiny bit of hope to cling onto, and it seems to have moved my thinking backwards.
It's funny how being given a little bit of hope can actually muddy the waters and make a decision harder, rather than easier.
Friday, 24 December 2010
The nightmare before Christmas
Well, I've survived two nativity plays, a class Mass with sixty six- and seven-year-olds lisping their way through Christmas carols, babysitting Nieces #1, 3 and 4 while my sister took #2 to see the Nutcracker for her Christmas treat, all the Christmas shopping and Christmas telly with images of smiling happy families... I'm prepared for tomorrow, with Niece #4's first Christmas and all the baby talk that's going to happen when my mother, sister and 8 months pregnant SIL get together.
But yesterday was something I was NOT prepared for.
Niece #1's Christmas treat was a trip to the temporary ice rink at the Natural History Museum in London. I missed seeing her actually on the ice - my other sister, her godmother, skated with her but then left very soon afterwards - but I went along to help my sister take all four of them into the Natural History Museum after the skating was over.
#3 is a very determined 2-year-old who runs remarkably quickly, and my main task for the day was to wrangle her. She loved pressing buttons on all the interactive exhibits, and it took a good few minutes to persuade her away from each one.
We started with the dinosaurs, which was great. Then while my sister stopped to look at a map and see where we could go for lunch, #1 and #2 spotted the human body exhibition and asked if we could go in.
We went through the displays on cells and muscles, then arrived at the entrance to the next exhibit. There was an interactive display with flashing lights, and #3 made a beeline for it. She then stood for about five minutes (or was it five hours?) happily pressing the buttons to make the lights come on.
The display was called 'See which sperm makes it to the ovum first'. It was a large 3-D model of a uterus, with little flashing lights representing the sperm making their way through it to fertilise the egg.
I finally managed to winkle her away from that display, only to be dragged by #1 and #2 into a giant mock-up of a uterus, with womb sounds playing through a loudspeaker. I was confronted with a five foot high foetus, which by happy (?) coincidence just happened to be pretty much the same gestation as my SIL's baby now is. #1 was asking lots of questions, which I answered through gritted teeth.
We passed through the giant uterus into an area with models of embryos at various stages of gestation, followed by pictures of a woman giving birth ("Look, Aunt ___ - that lady's pooing out a baby!") and then a room with all sorts of information about hormones and how they help in the baby-making process.
If I can survive that, I'm pretty sure I can survive the rest of Christmas. Whatever way the conversation turns, I can comfort myself with the thought that at least I'm not stuck in a giant uterus with a five-foot foetus staring me in the face.
I hope you all have a happy Christmas - and that next year a few more of us are looking forward to our children's first Christmas.
But yesterday was something I was NOT prepared for.
Niece #1's Christmas treat was a trip to the temporary ice rink at the Natural History Museum in London. I missed seeing her actually on the ice - my other sister, her godmother, skated with her but then left very soon afterwards - but I went along to help my sister take all four of them into the Natural History Museum after the skating was over.
#3 is a very determined 2-year-old who runs remarkably quickly, and my main task for the day was to wrangle her. She loved pressing buttons on all the interactive exhibits, and it took a good few minutes to persuade her away from each one.
We started with the dinosaurs, which was great. Then while my sister stopped to look at a map and see where we could go for lunch, #1 and #2 spotted the human body exhibition and asked if we could go in.
We went through the displays on cells and muscles, then arrived at the entrance to the next exhibit. There was an interactive display with flashing lights, and #3 made a beeline for it. She then stood for about five minutes (or was it five hours?) happily pressing the buttons to make the lights come on.
The display was called 'See which sperm makes it to the ovum first'. It was a large 3-D model of a uterus, with little flashing lights representing the sperm making their way through it to fertilise the egg.
I finally managed to winkle her away from that display, only to be dragged by #1 and #2 into a giant mock-up of a uterus, with womb sounds playing through a loudspeaker. I was confronted with a five foot high foetus, which by happy (?) coincidence just happened to be pretty much the same gestation as my SIL's baby now is. #1 was asking lots of questions, which I answered through gritted teeth.
We passed through the giant uterus into an area with models of embryos at various stages of gestation, followed by pictures of a woman giving birth ("Look, Aunt ___ - that lady's pooing out a baby!") and then a room with all sorts of information about hormones and how they help in the baby-making process.
If I can survive that, I'm pretty sure I can survive the rest of Christmas. Whatever way the conversation turns, I can comfort myself with the thought that at least I'm not stuck in a giant uterus with a five-foot foetus staring me in the face.
I hope you all have a happy Christmas - and that next year a few more of us are looking forward to our children's first Christmas.
Monday, 20 December 2010
The good, the bad and the ugly
Sorry I haven't been around for a while - life suddenly got ridiculously busy, and it's still not showing much sign of letting up. At least it gives me less time to think about things...
My AF showed up on Friday, so I went down for my blood test on Saturday morning. While I waited for the call with the results, I took the opportunity to do a bit of Christmas shopping in Oxford Street, and was amazed at how uncrowded Britain's busiest shopping street was on the Saturday before Christmas. Perhaps the forecast snow had something to do with it - it started to fall around 10:00.
By the time I was ready to go home, there were about four inches in central London, and about seven inches at home. My journey home took me three hours (compared to the usual one) and I ended up having to walk the last three miles, because there was no public transport at all running to my town. I got off the train in the next town, bought myself a sledge and trudged home, pulling my shopping behind me on the sledge.
So it wasn't with unreserved joy that I greeted the news that the clinic wanted me to go in again on Sunday for a repeat blood test and a scan. My FSH was 7.6, oestradiol 247, LH 3.4 and prolactin 289. Apart from the oestradiol, those were pretty good results, and I'm pleased that my FSH has come down again so nicely. But I wasn't sure how I was going to get back into London yesterday, and even less sure how I would manage daily blood tests over the Christmas period if I got the go-ahead to get started.
In the end, DH and I managed to get to my sister's on Saturday evening and spent the night with her - she lives closer to central London and her local station has more trains and was more likely to be open than our little terminus station at the forgotten end of a branch line.
Mr Greek God did my scan again, and I was impressed that even before he looked at my file, he seemed to remember the issue that I had last month.
This time, I had a 12 mm follicle. He said they didn't like them to be this big so early, but that this was a day later in my cycle than the scan I had last month (day 3 rather than day 2), which could explain why it's a bit bigger. And the good news was that, whereas last month one ovary was doing absolutely nothing and the other had a big follicle and two tiny ones, this month I had two follicles on one ovary and three on the other, and all were around the 10 mm mark - so bigger than they would like, but there wasn't really one dominant one.
I asked him why I always seemed to have these big follicles already before getting started, and he said that although it wasn't ideal for IVF, it was what my body was meant to be doing.
DH and I then went away and waited for the call. We went to Mass at a very nice church round the corner from the clinic, then waited in Starbucks with big mugs of coffee and the Sunday papers.
The first call, when it came, was not what I had expected. It was the nurse I had spoken to in the morning, who had received my blood test results. She asked me to confirm what day of my period it was, and asked how heavy the flow was and whether this was normal for me. From this I guessed that my progesterone was raised again, as it was last month. (I sneaked a peak at my file while I was waiting for the scan, and last month's CD2 progesterone level was 6.something, when it should have been less than 2.) She then said she was about to take my file up to Mr Miracle Worker, and would call back shortly.
When the next call came, it was Mr Greek God himself. He said that my levels were not ideal for cycling this month - and I must admit that after the travel problems over the weekend, I did breathe a sigh of relief that I wasn't going to have to travel into London every day during this bout of snow.
He then said that if my levels are similar next month, they would like to try down-regulating me. I've always done the short protocol up to now, and when I asked Mr Wonderful after the last cycle if down-regging might help to prevent the dominant follicles, he said he didn't think it would be suitable for me. But I'm actually really pleased to get a chance to try something new, and curious to see how my body responds to it.
So it looks as though, provided my FSH level is reasonable next month, I should be starting down-regging in mid-January. I think what they're planning is the follicular protocol, which seems to be halfway between the long and short protocol. I can't find much about it on the internet, but down-regging starts on CD1 or 2 with daily Suprefact injections, and you normally start stimming after 10 days. I'm sure they'll tell me more about it when the time comes...
So, the news is mostly positive, and it's just our laughable transport system, the amount of work I still have to do before Christmas and the fact that I have yet another cold/throat infection that stops me from looking forward to the next few days.
Oh, and the ugly? That's me - I'm a bit run down at the moment, and it's showing up in my skin. I have more zits than I've had at any time since I was a teenager, and look a bit like a geriatric adolescent. Perhaps Santa should bring me a big bottle of Clearasil...
My AF showed up on Friday, so I went down for my blood test on Saturday morning. While I waited for the call with the results, I took the opportunity to do a bit of Christmas shopping in Oxford Street, and was amazed at how uncrowded Britain's busiest shopping street was on the Saturday before Christmas. Perhaps the forecast snow had something to do with it - it started to fall around 10:00.
By the time I was ready to go home, there were about four inches in central London, and about seven inches at home. My journey home took me three hours (compared to the usual one) and I ended up having to walk the last three miles, because there was no public transport at all running to my town. I got off the train in the next town, bought myself a sledge and trudged home, pulling my shopping behind me on the sledge.
So it wasn't with unreserved joy that I greeted the news that the clinic wanted me to go in again on Sunday for a repeat blood test and a scan. My FSH was 7.6, oestradiol 247, LH 3.4 and prolactin 289. Apart from the oestradiol, those were pretty good results, and I'm pleased that my FSH has come down again so nicely. But I wasn't sure how I was going to get back into London yesterday, and even less sure how I would manage daily blood tests over the Christmas period if I got the go-ahead to get started.
In the end, DH and I managed to get to my sister's on Saturday evening and spent the night with her - she lives closer to central London and her local station has more trains and was more likely to be open than our little terminus station at the forgotten end of a branch line.
Mr Greek God did my scan again, and I was impressed that even before he looked at my file, he seemed to remember the issue that I had last month.
This time, I had a 12 mm follicle. He said they didn't like them to be this big so early, but that this was a day later in my cycle than the scan I had last month (day 3 rather than day 2), which could explain why it's a bit bigger. And the good news was that, whereas last month one ovary was doing absolutely nothing and the other had a big follicle and two tiny ones, this month I had two follicles on one ovary and three on the other, and all were around the 10 mm mark - so bigger than they would like, but there wasn't really one dominant one.
I asked him why I always seemed to have these big follicles already before getting started, and he said that although it wasn't ideal for IVF, it was what my body was meant to be doing.
DH and I then went away and waited for the call. We went to Mass at a very nice church round the corner from the clinic, then waited in Starbucks with big mugs of coffee and the Sunday papers.
The first call, when it came, was not what I had expected. It was the nurse I had spoken to in the morning, who had received my blood test results. She asked me to confirm what day of my period it was, and asked how heavy the flow was and whether this was normal for me. From this I guessed that my progesterone was raised again, as it was last month. (I sneaked a peak at my file while I was waiting for the scan, and last month's CD2 progesterone level was 6.something, when it should have been less than 2.) She then said she was about to take my file up to Mr Miracle Worker, and would call back shortly.
When the next call came, it was Mr Greek God himself. He said that my levels were not ideal for cycling this month - and I must admit that after the travel problems over the weekend, I did breathe a sigh of relief that I wasn't going to have to travel into London every day during this bout of snow.
He then said that if my levels are similar next month, they would like to try down-regulating me. I've always done the short protocol up to now, and when I asked Mr Wonderful after the last cycle if down-regging might help to prevent the dominant follicles, he said he didn't think it would be suitable for me. But I'm actually really pleased to get a chance to try something new, and curious to see how my body responds to it.
So it looks as though, provided my FSH level is reasonable next month, I should be starting down-regging in mid-January. I think what they're planning is the follicular protocol, which seems to be halfway between the long and short protocol. I can't find much about it on the internet, but down-regging starts on CD1 or 2 with daily Suprefact injections, and you normally start stimming after 10 days. I'm sure they'll tell me more about it when the time comes...
So, the news is mostly positive, and it's just our laughable transport system, the amount of work I still have to do before Christmas and the fact that I have yet another cold/throat infection that stops me from looking forward to the next few days.
Oh, and the ugly? That's me - I'm a bit run down at the moment, and it's showing up in my skin. I have more zits than I've had at any time since I was a teenager, and look a bit like a geriatric adolescent. Perhaps Santa should bring me a big bottle of Clearasil...
Thursday, 9 December 2010
The curse of the Android
For the last 24 hours, Facebook has been full of posts from one of my friends, regularly updating the world from her phone on the progress of her labour. Of course, each post is followed by several thousand comments about what a special time this is, how wonderful she is, and how excited everyone is.
This morning, there's a birth announcement with a photo of the baby which must have been taken within minutes of the birth.
It's her third child, and her second since we started TTC.
I'm happy for her, but can I admit to wishing that it wasn't all quite so in my face?
This morning, there's a birth announcement with a photo of the baby which must have been taken within minutes of the birth.
It's her third child, and her second since we started TTC.
I'm happy for her, but can I admit to wishing that it wasn't all quite so in my face?
Wednesday, 8 December 2010
Nothing but a dreamer...
The last few nights, I've had the most incredibly vivid dreams. Most of them have been classic anxiety dreams - I've forgotten to do something vital, and I'm trying to sort it out at the last minute. I've had dreams of this type at various stages all my life - I used to get them every single holiday during the week before going back to boarding school, for instance - so they're nothing new.
Several have involved our family Christmas get-together - not in the form of any sort of concern about spending the day at my 8 months pregnant SIL's house or watching the latest niece wear the Christmas pudding outfit for her first Christmas, but more about realising on Christmas Eve that I've forgotten to make the trifle I promised to contribute and don't have all the ingredients in the house, or getting halfway there and realising I've left the trifle at home.
Last night's had nothing classic about it as far as I was concerned, and was very bizarre and a little upsetting. It involved me watching in horror as someone prepared to sacrifice a baby on a barbecue. I don't know who the person was, or why the baby was being sacrificed, but this person obviously thought it was absolutely necessary to do this. Then I saw someone who I knew was coming to help. She was climbing up an open waste pipe, and just as she was about to reach the top, I accidentally flushed her down the pipe. I stood there helplessly looking on as the one person I knew could help disappeared down the sewer... and then I woke up with a horrible sense of dread which left me unwilling to move a muscle for several minutes for fear of what might happen.
It was quite possibly the daftest dream I've ever had, and all I can say is my subconscious is obviously having a busy time at the moment working its way through the decisions that we're making and the shift in our thinking that they entail.
I do wish it would shut up and do it a bit more quietly, though.
Several have involved our family Christmas get-together - not in the form of any sort of concern about spending the day at my 8 months pregnant SIL's house or watching the latest niece wear the Christmas pudding outfit for her first Christmas, but more about realising on Christmas Eve that I've forgotten to make the trifle I promised to contribute and don't have all the ingredients in the house, or getting halfway there and realising I've left the trifle at home.
Last night's had nothing classic about it as far as I was concerned, and was very bizarre and a little upsetting. It involved me watching in horror as someone prepared to sacrifice a baby on a barbecue. I don't know who the person was, or why the baby was being sacrificed, but this person obviously thought it was absolutely necessary to do this. Then I saw someone who I knew was coming to help. She was climbing up an open waste pipe, and just as she was about to reach the top, I accidentally flushed her down the pipe. I stood there helplessly looking on as the one person I knew could help disappeared down the sewer... and then I woke up with a horrible sense of dread which left me unwilling to move a muscle for several minutes for fear of what might happen.
It was quite possibly the daftest dream I've ever had, and all I can say is my subconscious is obviously having a busy time at the moment working its way through the decisions that we're making and the shift in our thinking that they entail.
I do wish it would shut up and do it a bit more quietly, though.
Sunday, 5 December 2010
Coaching update
A couple of you asked whether I was still seeing my coach. I am, and the whole process is really helping me - I don't think I'd be where I am now without her help.
There are three main things that she's helping me with - working out what I really want and need and how I can achieve that, communicating better with DH and getting what I need from my relationships with other people.
The help with communicating with DH is particularly helpful, as the usual reaction of certain members of my family to hearing that I've been trying to tell DH something that's important to me is "leave the poor chap alone".
I originally booked eight sessions with the coach, and Thursday should have been the last of those eight. As it happened, I couldn't get my car out because of snow and ice on the hill we live on, so the session has been postponed to this coming Thursday - and this week, I'll try to make sure I don't park the car facing uphill.
I spoke to her on the phone and said that I knew coaching wasn't meant to be open-ended, but asked if she thought it would be a good idea to book more sessions. The cynical part of me said that for anyone you're paying for a service to advise you that you no longer need that service is a bit like a turkey voting for Christmas. The emotional, needy part of me said that I need this extra person on my side, helping me to work through the decisions I'm making and the issues they're throwing up, for a while longer, and hoped that she wouldn't say she thought I was ready to deal with all this by myself.
As it happens, as with everything else, she struck exactly the right note. She said that as far as the not being open-ended is concerned, one difference between counselling and coaching is that with counselling, you're working through a lot of stuff that has often happened years ago, and it can take a very long time to deal with all the issues that come up. Coaching deals largely with the present and is more forward-looking. You're learning tools to help you to deal with specific things in your life, and so after a certain amount of time you should be able to stop the coaching and still use the tools that you've gained from it on your own.
She also said that she still occasionally contacts her own coach when she feels that she needs a bit of help and books a single session to help her work through whatever it is she's having trouble with. She said it can be helpful to be able to talk something through with someone who knows you well but can be completely objective. It kind of reassured me to know that this is an option.
In my case, I'm still in the middle of all this - I've taken a big step towards making a major decision, but the decision won't be put into practice until after the new year. In the meantime, we've got Christmas to get through, the birth of my latest niece, and the whole child-oriented shebang of nativity plays and Christmas parties. She said I may feel that I need support through all of that, and if I do, she's happy to keep working with me, but I must tell her if there's anything that I want to do differently or that I feel isn't helping.
So I'm going to book another block of sessions, and hope that by the end of this block, a lot of the stuff that's up in the air at the moment will be resolved one way or the other.
And, of course, I'm also hoping that the resolution itself will be one way, and not the other...
There are three main things that she's helping me with - working out what I really want and need and how I can achieve that, communicating better with DH and getting what I need from my relationships with other people.
The help with communicating with DH is particularly helpful, as the usual reaction of certain members of my family to hearing that I've been trying to tell DH something that's important to me is "leave the poor chap alone".
I originally booked eight sessions with the coach, and Thursday should have been the last of those eight. As it happened, I couldn't get my car out because of snow and ice on the hill we live on, so the session has been postponed to this coming Thursday - and this week, I'll try to make sure I don't park the car facing uphill.
I spoke to her on the phone and said that I knew coaching wasn't meant to be open-ended, but asked if she thought it would be a good idea to book more sessions. The cynical part of me said that for anyone you're paying for a service to advise you that you no longer need that service is a bit like a turkey voting for Christmas. The emotional, needy part of me said that I need this extra person on my side, helping me to work through the decisions I'm making and the issues they're throwing up, for a while longer, and hoped that she wouldn't say she thought I was ready to deal with all this by myself.
As it happens, as with everything else, she struck exactly the right note. She said that as far as the not being open-ended is concerned, one difference between counselling and coaching is that with counselling, you're working through a lot of stuff that has often happened years ago, and it can take a very long time to deal with all the issues that come up. Coaching deals largely with the present and is more forward-looking. You're learning tools to help you to deal with specific things in your life, and so after a certain amount of time you should be able to stop the coaching and still use the tools that you've gained from it on your own.
She also said that she still occasionally contacts her own coach when she feels that she needs a bit of help and books a single session to help her work through whatever it is she's having trouble with. She said it can be helpful to be able to talk something through with someone who knows you well but can be completely objective. It kind of reassured me to know that this is an option.
In my case, I'm still in the middle of all this - I've taken a big step towards making a major decision, but the decision won't be put into practice until after the new year. In the meantime, we've got Christmas to get through, the birth of my latest niece, and the whole child-oriented shebang of nativity plays and Christmas parties. She said I may feel that I need support through all of that, and if I do, she's happy to keep working with me, but I must tell her if there's anything that I want to do differently or that I feel isn't helping.
So I'm going to book another block of sessions, and hope that by the end of this block, a lot of the stuff that's up in the air at the moment will be resolved one way or the other.
And, of course, I'm also hoping that the resolution itself will be one way, and not the other...
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