Twisted Ovaries

Today is Sunday

Aidan here.

Today has not been such a good day. Vanessa's bleeding continued through the night and by lunch time the colour of her bleeding had become red and much more prevelent.

Very concerned, we naturally reached for the www but unfortunately that just scared us even more. The web is a great resource but Google on a subject like this and you find it is also full of folk spouting utter bollocks. Funny how people who have had a baby or got pregnant seem to become subject matter experts overnight.

Anyway, off we trudge again to the hospital where we were kept waiting forever but well treated. Bottom line is... we've got to wait until the scan on Tuesday (holiday weekend here) before we can know much more. All a bit inconclusive and worrying.

Vanessa is going to both take a bit of a break from the computer and we will both concentrate on looking after more important things in our life for the time being.

As soon as we know something a bit more concrete she will be back on air with an update. In the mean time no mails or comments, please.

She is in good hands and being taken care of by someone who thinks she is centre of his world and the best thing since sliced bread!

The Saturday I Found God

The bleeding went away for most of the day yesterday, but came back last night with a vengeance.

It also went from brown to reddish-brown. 

I went to bed knowing there was nothing I could do.

I rang our 24-hour emergency line for advice this morning, as the spotting continued (but it had gone back to brown).  I rang because I had period-like cramps.  Most of all I rang because there were tiny clots on the paper.

The doctor was kind-far kinder than my own fertility clinic and much more supportive.  I was ordered to bed rest and told that as it's a 3-day weekend no one could do anything for me until Tuesday.  I was told to keep my feet up and, if the spotting or pain got worse, to go to A&E.  That I could be losing one or both embryos, that it could be nothing.  The clots could simply be old blood trapped in mucus or it could be the last song on party night.

In the end, Aidan came through.  He found a walk-in clinc in a city nearby.  We went there, and while waiting in line I had to dash to the toilet to be sick.  When I walked out all eyes were on me and Aidan explained that the NHS hospitals aren't always well-built, that the entire waiting room had just been treated to the sound of every retch I suffered.  I didn't know if I was throwing up due to car sickness or morning sickness, but I hoped for the latter.

The clinic couldn't help us but referred us to a nearby A&E whose hospital is also one of the larger maternity hospitals in our area.

It happened fast-the triage nurse took pity on us and, despite the room full of lads with sprained ankles and cut thumbs, we were steered at once to a gynae room.  Someone came in and took blood (which hurt more than any blood draw I've ever had, ever).  The doctor came in-a very kind, very reassuring Indian man with an easy voice and calm eyes.  We explained the problem-the spotting, the cramping, that this was IVF #4, that maybe it's nothing, maybe we're over-reacting, probably there's nothing they can do, but please-an answer would at least help me stop crying and start dealing.  He asked me for a urine sample and said he'd ask the ultrasound unit to open up specially for us, to run a scan, to see if anything could be seen.  He told me that it was possible I was miscarrying, that there are basically three types of miscarriage.  He also told me it was possible it was nothing, that it was one embryo jumping ship, that it could be old blood from a period or the transfer procedure.

I went to do the urine sample.

When I wiped, the spotting was much heavier than it had been and back to reddish-brown in color.

I walked back into the exam room and fell apart.  The nice doctor came back and walked us to the scanning area himself.  He wished us luck.  He told us that no matter what, we are to come back Tuesday morning for a follow-up scan and more bloodwork.  He was the nicest doctor I have ever been to.

We thanked him repeatedly.

The scanning nurse came up to us and told me to empty my bladder again and she apologized, she was not an antenatal scanner, so if she was unable to see anything it might not mean it was all gone to hell, they'd have to see what the scan showed Tuesday.  She apologized for not being an antenatal specialist, but hoped in some way that she could give us some kind of peace of mind.  We thanked her for trying.

I went into the toilet, peed, and looked up at the skylights and the falling rain.  I cried and shook and begged for anyone to listen, anywhere, and just make this ok.  I made bargains.  I pleaded.  I found in that moment I would do anything to make this right, to keep this going, to never take for granted for one second the fact that this had finally worked.

We waited for a while for the scanner to be set up-the scanning was done on a gynae ward, which was only half-full of elderly women.  When they called us in I was shaky and scared.  Aidan (who has been my rock all morning-thank you, baby, I love you) looked worried.  The technician told us she'd look around first and then tell us what she saw.

The good news is there was no obvious reason for bleeding-everything was inside of the uterus and she couldn't see any evidence of hemotoma inside or outside of the uterus or around the cervix.  She did more scanning and took measurements, muttering to herself and making copious prints.  We asked questions.  I cried. 

And in the end, I am still on bed rest until Tuesday.  They can't tell us why I am spotting, but the spotting and  the cramping is worrying so taking it easy and monitoring are on the cards.  There were no heartbeats to measure because it's still too early based on the measurements she took.  But everything looks ok in there, she said.  If I were miscarrying, things would look differently.  Currently, it all looks very good, very positive.  It's still early days and I am still going to be watching TV for three days until we go back Tuesday morning, but we are still currently in the safe zone.

When she gave us the news, I cried even harder.

There, in the middle of the screen, was this perfect embryo, embedded into the uterus in a perfect sac, and measuring the perfect size for its age.

I am still pregnant.

And it is just the one.

Back to the couch for me now.

Again

I am spotting a bit (it is brown).

My mind-pure, unadulterated freaking out.

My clinic-unhelpful.

My beaver-chafed.

My ass-parked on the couch for the remainder of the day.

I'll Gladly Pay You Tuesday For an Ultrasound Today

Some of the symptoms are continuing-heightened sense of smell, headaches, and I get dizzy-I had to have my teeth checked for my yearly dental visit on Tuesday, and when I leaned back in the dental chair I had to put one foot on the ground, you know like you do when you're pretty drunk and you need the world to stop spinning?  Only trust me-I hadn't been drinking.

In fact, I can't-not just because I'm knocked up (and the doctor here says an occasional glass is ok) but because the smell of alcohol makes me want to hurl.    Lots of smells I can't take-salt and vinegar crisps, cheese and onion crisps and HP sauce are among them.  The kids were eating those crisps in the car the other day and I wanted to fling them out (the crisps, not the kids).

I have severe food aversions-the other day Aidan asked if I wanted mushrooms on toast for lunch, which is usually a favorite of mine.  This time, though, it got a distinctly negative reaction.  I usually put salsa on loads of things, but right now I can't bear the idea of salsa in my house, let alone on my eggs.  I'm drawn to super bland foods-last night we had fish fingers and boiled potatoes and I was in heaven. 

To be honest, nothing sounds good at all, and when things do sound good, they sound good for about 4.2 seconds, and then I've moved on.

Some days are better than others.  Sunday the symptoms were bad, yesterday was mostly ok.  It comes in waves, and I never know how the day is going to be.

A little over a week now until my scan.  I sometimes go a little crazy stressing about it all-What if it's dead?  What if it's chemical?  What if there's no heartbeat (see: what if it's dead)?  And most of all: What if there's two in there?

I know twins may seem like not a big deal, but they're a very big deal in this house.  Of all the worst case scenarios in all of the world, Aidan's worst case is "Twins".  Mine is a little different, mine's more "I'm an old lady in a home and completely alone.  And I have a colostomy bag.  And they don't allow cats."  But we all have to have our own worst case scenario, his is based on the stress and sheer scale of work involved with twins.  We put two frozen embryos in at doctor advice, but Aidan is very worried, and the truth is, he's worried about our relationship-there have been mutterings along the lines of "good chance we won't make it if we have twins", which really freaks me out no end because I bob along under the certainty that it won't break us up and my boy?  He's the universe to me. 

So the hopes that next week's scan shows one baby, with one heartbeat and one fetal sac, are really high.

The truth is, I have been dreaming that there's only one.  Or actually, I've been dreaming that there are two but one doesn't make it-so far the two embryos have shown up in one of my dreams as the funny images I call the Dr. Seuss babies (one alive, one wilted and gone), and in another dream they were naked pink possum babies (one alive, one expired). 

But then this morning I woke up freaked out-I had been dreaming I was a teacher who was running late and showed up to teach the class in a pair of short shorts and a striped tank top (I KNOW.  I'd never wear such Farrah Fawcett clothing to begin with, let alone teach in it).  But then I dreamt I went to the toilet and peed and in the bowl I'd expelled the usual leftover beaver bullets.  But as I looked down, the bowl filled with blood and blood clots and I started crying hysterically.

When I woke up, I felt racked with grief, but a dash to the toilet assured me that there was no blood, and the nausea hit me full on again. 

Sometimes I'm so desperate to get an answer I feel like calling my GP and begging, but something tells me they wouldn't be able to do this kind of thing, and anyway I called the fertility clinic and asked them to move my scan up and they said they couldn't, there was no point-they don't move scans up before two weeks past a positive test as it could mean the embryo wasn't ready yet, which causes undue stress.  I feel like a crack addict who needs a fix: Please, just shove one wand up my hooch, will you?  Just once!  PLEASE!

So here's to hoping that next week there's one healthy, heartbeating Dr. Seuss Baby.

6 Weeks and Hanging In There

According to this site, which does calculations based on "replacing cleaved embryos" (thereby making them a cool site, as no other sites seem to cover IVF dates), I will be 6 weeks pregnant tomorrow.

I know!  I was confused, too.  But then I read more about IVF, and seeing as IVF skips those early steps (egg floats lazily down fallopian tube.  Mummy and Daddy get drunk and shag like inebriated rabbits.  Sperm float down the tube and compare dick size to see who should nab the egg.   Egg gets fertilized and starts to divide (Purple! Fairy! Dust!) and continues floating down the tube, into the uterus, and then lazily installs self in comfy uterine armchair.) pregnancies are on the fast track.  So while I may have been only knocked up for perhaps 2, 2 and a half weeks, the development cycle is shorter. 

Makes my knees knock to think that as of tomorrow morning, I am 6 weeks pregnant. 

I suppose what floors me the most is that this FET cycle-this cycle, which comes with 16.2% odds-succeeded.  At my clinic, they average that each month they do 81 FETs.  And each month, the average is just 12 women that get pregnant.  I remember my last FET, which was done May 2002-I had no doubt in my mind it wouldn't work, and it didn't.  So now after 4 cycles (2 with my ex and 2 with my lovely boy) and 5 years, something has finally happened.  I have gotten further than I ever thought possible. 

But even more, it's like Donna said-how is it that in the July/August time frame all of us cycling in blogland did so well with FET cycles? 

And yes, I still face the miscarriage odds-it's around 10% now, and after the heartbeat is heard, the stats go down to less than 3%.  But man, just to get this far is amazing.  Besides that, apparently evidence shows that obvious pregnancy symptoms are good signs, as it means the hcg is going full on.

And the symptoms, they are severe.  I had no idea I would be knocked on the ass so hard.  I am nauseaous most of the time, and suffer from food avoidance like you wouldn't believe.  Nothing sounds good.  I don't want to eat anything, it all feels so revolting.  And sometimes I'll be eating something and halfway through it I'll suddenly go off it-more meals are being pushed away than I ever have before.  I am absolutely exhausted and sleep like the dead.  All of today has been spent on the couch, as I can't stand up without feeling hideously light-headed and pukey (but I have managed to catch up on many DVDs today, so I am not in the least upset.)  As long as I sit, I don't feel like I'm going to faint, so pardon me while I catch up on Scrubs.

Please don't think I'm complaining, because I'm not.  I'll take the nausea, the food avoidances, the exhaustion, the dizziness.  I'll take it all.  It's reassuring and a part of it all. 

I went to the clinic on Thursday to get more drugs-they give you enough to get through the 2ww, then if it's positive you go in for more (and if it's negative, you crack open the wine).  I went in, and the RE gave me a rundown on everything.  I'm now on food restrictions-no partially cooked eggs, no pate (not a problem, as I'm veggie).  Shellfish and fish from an approved vendor are ok if they're fully cooked, and cheese is ok as long as it's pasteurized (but I really don't feel like eating cheese, which is criminal.)  I am to eat several small meals throughout the day, and to keep snacks on hand that are healthy, like granola bars and such (which I love, so ok).  I am actually losing weight, but the RE said that was normal.  I have found a few savior products that help beat the nausea-first thing in the morning I eat some plain crackers, and during the day I turn to plain tortillas (you can take the girl out of Dallas, but...). 

I go back for what they call the "viability scan" (nice.  Very nice.) in a little less than 2 weeks.  There we should hear the heartbeat, see the fetal sac, and get measurements (Dear God, please let there be only one Dr. Seuss baby in there, yes?  Aidan has already expressed that the Great Depression of 2006/2007 shall set in if there are twins in there, so how about just the one, ok?)  and then we are dismissed from the fertility clinic and into the hands of our GP.

No hand-holding in our English hospital, nosiree!  One "viability scan" and we're out!

Aidan has been a complete doll through all of this, especially in urging me to rest and taking care of things.

So there you have it.

6 weeks and hanging in there.

How The Story Goes

If anyone had ever told me that two hours after receiving the positive pregnancy test I'd been dreaming of that I'd be hiking through Welsh hills trying to not step in sheep shit, I'd throw my script at them and shout: This is not in the Hollywood scripts!  This does not happen this way!  Queue the violins!  There should be snuggles and lots of patting of my stomach from the man while I swan about in my pink chiffon robe WITH the feather trim!

Instead, I hiked around Welsh hills in shoes that got wet, and whose wet purple inner lining came off on my feet so that I now look like I am facing a pretty severe case of frostbite (I saw people looking at my indigo stained toes later in the day yesterday as I walked around in my flip-flops.  I wanted to look at them and say: Dude, Everest?  Not such a cake walk after all.)

But there you have it.

The night before I was really stressed.  I still had strange symptoms-nausea, vomiting, headaches, light-headedness, and the unfortunate gift of an uber-sense of smell (not something you want in an environment that includes farms and sea-soaked dog riding in the car).  I felt cramps inside and was convinced my period was coming. 

Tuesday night I fell asleep around midnight. 

And all night long, I dreamt about testing and it coming out positive.  Every single time I woke up, having just dreamt about a positive pregnancy test, I'd go back to sleep and start a new dream which would inevitably wind up with me urinating all over a home pregnancy test all over again, and celebrating the positive. 

When I woke at 6 am, I sat up and thought: Right.  I'm going to go take my positive home pregnancy test now.

So I went to the toilet and got out the tests-one was the Super Sensitive Home Pregnancy Test, one a First Response Early Detection.  I peed in the little cup for the Sensitive One, then dropped three drops into the indicated area (as noted by the "splash guard" marks.  Nice.)  I also took down the First Response one. 

The control lines came up quickly-blue control one on the Sensitive one, a bright pink control line on the First Response test.

As did the pregnancy lines-bright pink on Sensitive and a paler pink on First Response.

I burst into tears and stumbled from the bathroom into our bedroom.  Gasping and crying, I woke up Aidan and told him the news.  I brought him the tests.  He confirmed that there were most definitely lines on both tests.

We went back to sleep for about an hour, then it was time to walk the dog, have breakfast, and pack up and head home from the Welsh holiday.

And I still can't believe it, but somehow it's real.  Dr. Seuss baby took.  And dear Jesus, please let it be just Dr. Seuss baby and not Dr. Seuss babies.  Aidan is really nervous they both took as twins are his big fear.  I don't want twins either, but am less concerned about it than Aidan-somehow, I am really calm and relatively sure that it's just the one in there.

I don't know why I think that.

But I don't know why I just thought the test would be positive, either. 

I don't get to have my first scan for nearly three weeks, which feels like fucking forever to me.  When we do get to go, there should be both a fetal sac and a heartbeat.  I'm not worried about an ectopic pregnancy as I have no tubes.  And somehow I'm not that worried that it's a chemical pregnancy as I had all the classic symptoms of implantation.

I'm just kinda' calm right now.

I feel like I'm lucid dreaming-my IVF cycle has worked and I both can and cannot believe it. 

But lots of things can go wrong, and I am still facing the miscarriage statistics, which are something like 10-20%.  Those stats are enough to keep me quiet and concerned.  We will tell people about this if/when we get to the second trimester, so if you do come to my other blog please, please don't mention this on there-people in my "real life" see that blog and apparently read the comments, and I just don't want to tell them about this right now. 

In the meantime, I take stock in the fact that I'm up the duff.

Because I am.

Hi. 

I'm pregnant.

And the winner is...

Statia here with a live update on pregnancy watch 2006. Vanessa is still away and wanted me to post an update as you're all on pins and needles waiting for an answer I'm sure.

I just want to say that her 2 week wait was far more torturous than my own and for the love of god would she just test already. Jesus.

And the verdict is.....

10dp3dt

The nausea comes in waves-first thing in the morning, for most of the morning.  Then all afternoon I am nausea-free, sitting around thinking: Nausea?  Wanna' come back?  It was reassuring that you were around, at least you're something.  And nausea looks at me and says: Babe, you're not the kind of person I can leave.  And so it comes back all evening.

This morning it was so bad that while driving back from the shops with my 9 year-old stepson, I nearly had to pull over, just to throw up. 

The exhaustion comes in waves.  The nausea come in waves.  I wake up every morning with a headache (and it's not dehydration, as I'm drinking enough water to keep Moby Dick afloat.)  I get light-headed and dizzy.

I'm either knocked up or I have the flu.

I've decided this.  Knocked up or flu.

I nearly tested yesterday-I even had the cardboard box unwrapped and in my grubby hands-but Aidan feels that all it can lead to is depression-he feels it's too early for any conclusiveness, and should I be pregnant, the test is too early to tell.

I just wish I knew the answer.

We leave tomorrow morning for a three day visit to a place we all absolutely love in Wales.  We're taking the dog, the remote control airplane, the cooler, the sunblock, and three pregnancy tests (you can never leave home with just one, right?  Right?). 

My test day is Wednesday.  They don't do betas at my clinic, so I have the World's Most Sensitive Pregnancy Test, as given to me by the RE. 

I will have my answer Wednesday, and I get to test again away from home. 

Aidan and I were talking today in the kitchen, preparing lunch for the father and stepmother-in-law, and he said in a quiet voice, "I think you're pregnant."

I looked at him.  "I didn't have these symptoms last time, and I'm sure they're not in my head."

So maybe I am pregnant.  Or maybe it's the drugs.  Possibly, it's the flu.

Either way, late next Wednesday I'll let you know.  There's nothing I can do to influence things.  I'll either be pregnant or I'll be a fucking asshole (well, I can be that sometimes anyway, but I mean I'll be a fucking asshole for feeling so positive when the Dr. Seuss embryos jumped ship a long time ago.)

See you late Wednesday.

Wish me luck.

9dp3dt

I woke up at 545 am, with a migraine and a really nauseaous feeling.  I took my morning IVF meds and some paracetamol, I walked the dog, I tried to control the smoldering comet that is my other blog, and I drank a bit of coffee (no, I haven't given it up, but I am down from 4 cups a day to just one, which the RE said was OK.)

Then I had a bowl of yogurt.

Which I promptly threw up in the bathroom.

The brown spotting is basically done now, but Panty Check 2006 continues.

All morning I've been exhausted and light-headed, racked with indigestion and Sweet Jesus everything fucking smells.  Everything smells a lot.  I have to keep washing my hands, my clothes, my face, whatever, all because of the smells.  I'm not that bad a housekeeper, I know-except for a good hoovering and the lawn being mowed, the house is basically clean but Christ on a piece of toast the smells are killing me. 

I decided to take a shower.

And I have to confess I was fucking inches away from taking a pregnancy test.  I even unwrapped the box and everything.  Then, in a fit of "ohmigod if it's negative you'll be desperate for a drink and man who knows negative feelings could in fact not only your emotions and Aidan's kids are here tonight and you can't be a sobbing mess in front of them but negative feelings could even influence the test and make it go negative just when the Dr. Seuss baby was finishing implanting and it would somehow know you were being negative and be all 'fuck you, I'm leaving then and will go find someone more positive' and then I'd be bereft".

I always think in run-on sentences.

I made myself sit down immediately on the toilet and got rid of all that urine. 

I am handlling this 2ww far worse than any of the other ones, ever.  Mostly, because for the first time?  I have symptoms, and I fight to keep them assigned to the medication (I read the progynova pamphlet last night and shouted to Aidan, engrossed in the "How's It Made" TV show, Look!  It cases flatulence!  OK, so all the drugs have, but still!  And headaches!  And nausea!  And indigestion!  See!  It's the drugs!  The drugs!  To which I had Aidan replying: But you didn't have those symptoms earlier, babe. To which I replied with. "-".) because I don't want to have to post next Weds with the words "Fucking asshole".  I really don't.

Continuation of Today

The spotting dissipated overnight.

This morning, the flush out of the leftover Beaver Bullet pushed more out-it was definitely dark brown, slightly stringy and mucus-y (and aren't you SO GLAD you checked in on this site just after eating that bowl of yogurt?  Hmm?  Aren't you?)

It seems to have disappeared now.

My body continues to feel like a foreign body to me-things feel strange inside of me-I have intermittent cramps that come and go.  My stomach feels tight, like it's done too many sit-ups.  The nausea abated yesterday morning but has come back.  Strangely, Aidan had a hunk of Cheddar out yesterday and I wanted some, but then felt queasy at the idea.  My boobs aren't sore or vein-y, but then they wouldn't be-my breast reduction 13 years ago removed nearly all of the glands, pregnancy should likely not affect them at all.  But inside, I feel...funny.

I keep telling myself it's the drugs that do it, as the worst thing in the world is to report back next week: Yup!  It was all in my head.  I'm just that crazy.

The funny thing is, Friday night when I had the book club I stood by the sink rinsing out freshly shelled peas, and when I looked up at the window I gripped the side of the sink and the thought smacked me so clear in my head: It worked.  This time, it worked.  I know it did.  I don't know where that thought came from, and the cynical side of me, the one that believes Santorini couples will break up and IVF is an exercise of sobbing in the bathtub, rushed to shush the inner voice, lest someone hear it.

But in the midst of the obsessive panty checking last night (and I'm wearing white granny panties today, and I do not apologize for that-granny panties mean maximum white cotton exposure so I can monitor the outflow from the hooch at all times today) I stood by the sink, rinsing out my glass, when the thought came back: It's working.  Calm down, it's all ok. 

I spend lots of time by the kitchen sink now.

I don't know if this round will work or not.  It's true there will be another round if it doesn't, but I'm not sure if we'll cycle right away or wait to clear the holidays and the family holiday we always take with Aidan's kids in February/March-in which case, I'll either be cycling in October, or cycling in April again.  It's true there will be more rounds, but that will be my third (fifth) IVF round by then, and April feels like a long fucking time to wait.

Somehow, I remain positive.  I rang the hospital this morning like a fucking novice-Hi, I've only been through this several times?  Yeah?  And I have brown mucus-y spotting when I wipe (seriously, didn't that just make you want to push that cup of coffee away?) and what does it mean, is it serious?  Of course, in IVF-land everything is a guess sometimes. The RE said it's either: left-over blood just now making an appearance from the transfer or one embryo could be implanting.  She said a period, were one coming, would be closer to the time of the pregnancy test. 

Last night I dreamt of embryos implanting.  Both implanted, but in my dream it was clear only one of them was going to make it.  They both looked other-worldly, like something out of a Dr. Seuss book.  But the dream was so real and so complete, I find even my cynical "God, in a week you're going to look like a fucking asshole" shuts up about it, and simply regards the Dr. Seuss baby with awe.

I stand by the kitchen sink.