I just wish I could click my fingers and be pregnant. One more click and I have my baby in my arms.
Or a stork? God I wish there were storks. I think they’d give me a good one.
Why is it that the day you get your period is always the day where you’ll see a baby on every corner?!
My mum lost her hearing in one of her ears a few years ago and the doctors never knew what caused it. She was booked in for an M.R.I scan, but ended up not going through with it saying she felt too frightened and claustrophobic. I told her she was being ridiculous, that if its going to help, well she should just bloody do it.
Mere hours after my own M.R.I, I phoned to apologise to her. I now understood exactly what she meant.
The nurses told me to remove all jewellery, piercings and kirbies (bobby pins).Simple right? Not for me. I have a…lets say..intimate piercing that is impossible to remove on my own. I sheepishly explained this and was told that I might need to go home as the piercings can “explode” and rip out whatever part of the body it’s attached to. Then another nurse came, handed me a magnet and told me to hold it against my..well, my coochie… to see if the piercing was magnetised. It wasn’t, so she said I would be safe to go in and there would be no exploding vaginas to worry about!
I put on my gown and answered some basic health and safety questions, then was warned that the IV buscopan that I was about to receive might make my vision blurred, and that on rare occasions, tattoos can heat excessively during an MRI, and if this happens I should push the buzzer and they’ll take me out. So now I’m worried about going blind, having exploding genitals and burning from the inside out. Great. What a morning.
I lay on the bed thing, and 2 boards were placed on top of me and fastened to the bed so that my arms were trapped by my side, rendering me unable to move. I was told I’d be lying under the machine for an hour. An HOUR! As I started to be moved in, I immediately knew what my mum meant – it was horrible. I felt trapped and couldn’t see anything around me apart from the white machine.. They gave me earphones, but it was impossible to concentrate on the music over the hums, and beeps and murmurs of the machine.
About 30mins in, I needed to sneeze. Shit. I’m not supposed to move in here right? It came and went twice, until I couldn’t stop it. Twice. Two sneezes! I tried to stifle it, which only resulted in my eyes watering. I could feel a small steady stream of tears rolling down my face. I couldn’t life my arm to wipe it. Uhoh, now my nose was running. Bogies slowly dripped down my face. Oh god, its going in my mouth, its going in my mouth. I turned my head ever so slightly to try send the snotters off course. Result! They bypassed my mouth and continued rolling down my chin and on to my neck. Crap, there goes my eyes again. More tears were coming. My face was a soggy mess and I couldn’t do anything about it.
Finally, the murmurs stopped and I started to move backwards. The nurses appeared and unstrapped the boards. I could finally lift my hands and wipe my wet, snotter soaked face. It was over.
Or was it? Maybe that was that the easy part?
Everyone around me is pregnant. Or has spent the last 9 months being pregnant. It’s hard. It’s hard to be happy for everyone. I know its totally unreasonable and completely selfish, but I’m really struggling to feign interest and excitement for people.
My social media is filled with bumps and babies. A few work colleagues have been busy thrusting new baby photos in my direction, and I know I’m expected to ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ and ask “what did she weigh”, “was it a long labour” – when really – I couldn’t give a shit. It’s not MY pregnancy, its not MY labour, or MY baby. I’m still waiting here at back at page 1, so take your happiness and shove it.
OK OK.. I don’t mean that. Not all the time anyway. I AM happy for people, of course I am. I’m not the devil incarnate… I’m not a horrible person. it’s just that my happiness is occasionally overshadowed by my.. well.. jealousy.
Cos that’s what it is isn’t it? I’m jealous. I can admit it. I’m jealous of the people that have 3 babies or “accidentally ” fell pregnant, or the people that instagram their bumps. It’s bloody hard.
I have MRI appointments and also with a genetics clinic to see if there’s something in my genealogy that’s causing the problems.. I do know that my grans sister had 4, but there was a history of domestic violence there so I’m not sure if it’s linked or sheer coincidence. I’ve said it before.. I’ll take any tests they give me. Give me them all!!
If I had been face-to-face with the receptionist at my GP surgery today, I would have strangled her. Without hesitation.
Background first – I have been to my GP after every miscarriage, either for a line to hand in at work or a blood test or whatever, so they’re more than aware of my “history”.The ‘on call’ doctor was bloody brilliant – made me feel very reassured and calm. Shame about my own bloody doctor. He has never recommended tests, referred me to anyone, offered me any sort of valuable information or help. I have fought to get where I am in terms of the medical help I’m receiving, and occasionally the early pregnancy unit have helped a wee bit too. I’ve did the research, I’ve asked the questions, I’ve brought up the subject of progesterone/aspirin/acupuncture/further tests. My GP has done bugger all.
Middle part – After my appointment at RMC clinic, it was agreed that I was a “good candidate” for progesterone and the specialist told me I could get this from my ever so helpful GP. I phoned and was quickly dismissed, with him saying he can’t give me anything until he receives confirmation letter from the hospital (yeah cos I quite fancy getting high off the progesterone ffs). Anyway – fine – I guess he has an oath or some bollocks…. but I explained that I was eager to have it so it was all sorted for when I got my next positive test.
Today – I call to find out if the letter has been received and the lovely receptionist says she can check. (re-read that sentence but make sure you say ‘lovely’ with a sarcastic tone). She tells me that it was indeed received – 20 DAYS AGO… She says “there is no further action required” so progesterone hasn’t actually been prescribed yet. I ask her if I can please speak to the GP as I would really like to be assured that I will be able to get this AS SOON as I fall pregnant. “But you’ve to take it up to 12 weeks pregnant, not now” she says… I’m aware how to bloody take it you stupid woman.. UP to 12 weeks.. not AT 12 weeks!! All I want to know is if it’ll be there when I need it! So I ask again to speak to my GP and do you know what she said to me?! “We recommended you don’t get pregnant until your MRI scan” WE?! WE?!?! Who the fuck are WE?!
I lost it then. I screamed that if she bothered to look at the rest of my notes, she would see I’ve had 5 bloody miscarriages and I WILL be getting progesterone and I certainly wont be taking advice from a receptionist and I want to speak to my GP NOW and not continue this conversation with someone who is completely unqualified to be giving any sort of medical advice!
Honest to God. It never got much better either to be honest. My GP called back and started going on about possible side effects and how the recent medical studies aren’t conclusive. All I want is some bloody drugs for my incompetent vagina. Fuck sake.
I’m struggling today.
I’ve been on this journey for nearly 2 and a half years now, and its taking its toll.. Im tired.
I don’t think I’ve got much more left in me.
First off I have to apologise for not updating/reading up on everyones blog. I have no excuse, so I’m sorry. I WILL go back and catch up with all ur posts. I hope you all had a lovely Christmas and New Year.
Baby-wise we never tried much over Christmas – Nikki was ill during my fertile week so we took it easy. We had our THIRD appointment at the RMC clinic the other day and I finally feel we’re getting somewhere. The specialist agrees that it isn’t normal to have this many losses for NO reason, so she’s recommended I start progesterone as soon as I fall pregnant and she’s booked me in for an MRI to see if I have any abnormalities in my uterus. She thinks possibly a septate or bicornuate uterus COULD be a reason for the losses. It’s pretty rare, but its worth getting the tests. She also thinks if I make it to the 7/8 week mark, I might benefit from Clexane injections – just as another thing to try. I’m telling her to fling everything my way – hey, I pay my taxes!
I feel like we’re not being ignored anymore.. that the doctors are willing to help us more now. The only thing left to do now is get pregnant! Funnily enough that’s actually the thing I feel most relaxed about. Although that could be because its ovulation week and I always feel a little more *cough* “relaxed” at this time!!
I know in my head that I can’t keep trying forever. Physically its impossible, and emotionally -well I don’t know how much longer I can go.
Should I give myself an end date? Should I keep going until I physically can’t? Should I stop when I’m emotionally worn out, or will there be too much damage already done?
I’ve just began a new cycle. I feel exhausted and its barely even started.
This time two years ago I was putting last minute touches to my wedding plans. I wasn’t pregnant and didn’t know the pain of recurrent miscarriage. I had no idea that I was about to spend the next two years trying for a baby only to lose it every time. I had no idea I would have started a miscarriage blog and have 100 people reading it. I had no idea I would have to undertake tests, book acupuncture appointments and spend months researching tips on having a full term pregnancy.
I sometimes try imagine myself in 5, 10 years – in a beautiful house, with 2 kids – (stepson and one biological one), financially secure and happy, and then I have to stop myself. I have no idea what the future is going to bring – that’s more obvious to me now than it’s ever been.
So, as I sit in a hotel room waiting to visit Poland for my 30th birthday, all I can do is forget about my past; stop picturing my future and just enjoy my present.
I can’t remember if I’ve already mentioned that I’m a media volunteer for The Miscarriage Association. It basically means if any journalist wants to do a story or something, they’ll contact MA who will then contact me if I’m suitable for it. I’ve only done 2 newspaper interviews – one small piece for the Scottish Sun, and one for the Saturday Herald (out this Saturday if there’s any local folks reading!)
(if it appears online I’ll pop a link on this weekend)
Anyway, the journalist doing the interview asked me what difference – if any – the miscarriages have made to my life. I’d never really thought about that before…Sure, I’m more aware of miscarriages and the struggles of trying to conceive. I know all the statistics, and about all the delightful stages of our cervical mucus, but I didn’t think she wanted to stick that in her article!
I told her that it had made my marriage stronger – in our 2 years of marriage we’ve went through more shit than most do in a lifetime and we’re still here making each other laugh and pulling through it all together… but.. and here’s one for all of us…
How bloody strong are we all? How resilient are we? I’ve became a much stronger person since my losses – I seem to be able to bounce back more than I ever thought possible. We’ve been knocked down so many times and we keep getting back up. We’ve got that end goal in sight and we’re all fighting so hard to get it. I know it’s maybe cheesy but we should all be proud of ourselves. I never thought I would be able to get through all these losses.. I never thought I would be able to keep going, but yeah..I can. And I will!
Only downside? I thought of this answer on the train journey home!