Our 2nd transfer failed. No takers.
I’m okay now. I felt like shit at first,but I’m okay now. 1 more frozen embryo left in this round so hopefully this little guy or girl is a big bully embryo and has been threatening all the other embryos not to implant because they want to meet me.
So yeah, turns out I’m basically wishing for a little aggressive child.
So it turns out the pessaries aren’t particularly fun any way you put them in. Vagina gives me thrush, and the bum gives me an overwhelming desire to poop all the time. My stomach was so painful today with what can only be described as poop cramps. Why can’t I just have the gel for Gods sake? Or someone can physically punch it right in to my face? Because quite frankly, that would be a nicer option. Ugh.
Test day is 6 days from now. I can feel the nerves and the negativity start to creep in a little (I guess it’s more worry than negativity). I’m going to take some time at night to practice some positive meditation and hopefully that’ll ease some of my worry
I can’t believe I haven’t blogged since transfer! I’ve put so much focus on trying to raise funds for my boxes that I forgot to write. Which is awful, because a huge part of what I’m doing is because of this blog and the people I’ve met through it.
I had my third transfer on Thursday 1st August. I only had 1 embryo transferred. The doctors recommended it, and after losing twins last time – I just felt it wasn’t worth the risk. I’m still on my first round and I have three fully funded rounds (I still can’t get over how lucky I am compared to the people that need to pay thousands of pounds/dollars. It’s outrageous that not everyone gets to have the same chances to have a child)
I’ve been feeling pretty much the same over the past few days. Trying not to think/analyse symptoms this time round. I’ve been meditating as much as I can, and that’s helped with my stress levels and my tendency to overthink. Ideally, I hope to just “get on with things” until test day.
August 12th. 7 days from now.
If you guys have time, please go on to my crowdfunder. Have a read and if you can, please please donate. But more importantly, please share!
Transfer number 3 booked for Thursday. I don’t have a time yet. I’m not sure how it works in other clinics, but mine gives me a 2 hour window. I’ll get a phone call on Thursday morning and they’ll give me a time to come in (with at least 2 hours notice)
I’ve started the pessaries, but I’ve been taking them the “other” way. I can’t think of a nice way of saying “up my bum”.
Last time I got thrush and my vagina was unbelievably painful, so I switched it up this time. Now the only physical side effect is a whole load of farts.
I’ve been really emotional (erratic is a more accurate description to be honest) and have been feeling a little overwhelmed. I’ve been trying to meditate more to counteract the hormones and it’s helping a little. I definitely feel more like “me” this time round.
*update* I’ve text my brother a few times. I’m not ready to see him yet, but I am making an effort to keep communication open
My brother phoned me a few minutes ago to tell me his girlfriend was pregnant.
I burst in to tears, muttered congratulations, told him I had to go and immediately hung up.
2 days before my scan and this is the phone call I get. While I’m fucking full of hormones.
It’s a reaction I haven’t experienced in so long and to be honest I’m annoyed at myself for reacting the way I did. But I can’t lie to myself. I thought it didn’t hurt as much anymore, but I guess I was wrong.
I always imagined going shopping with my mum while she browsed the rails for clothes for her first grandchild. I pictured her excitedly telling her workmates that her first grandchild was due in a few months. I love that she gets to do all this, it just hurts that it won’t be my baby she’s talking about. I know what you’re thinking; who needs a baby with me around ay?
I’m jealous. It’s horrible to admit but it’s true. It’s a shitty emotion and one that’s almost impossible to hide. How am I going to face him and act okay?
They’ve been together about a week (I’m exaggerating and being childish of course) And here’s me – married for nearly 5 years and painfully and frustratingly trying to have a baby for most of that time to no avail.
It sucks. There’s no other way to describe it. Or maybe there is? It’s shitty. It’s unfair. It hurts. It makes me feel things I hate feeling. It makes me feel like a bad person. Like a bad friend. Like a bad sister.
I know it will pass and I will be happy for them. Of course I will. I just need one night to be a little bit of a dickhead.
I had another IVF appointment yesterday; this time to have an internal scan and collect some meds.
They scan you a few days after your period stops to see how your lining looks. They want it to be nice and thin before they can make it thick again. (It’s a strange process)
For some reason a “thin lining” always sounds much more pleasant than a thick one don’t you think?
Anyway, she had a look and it seems my little reproductive organs are looking fantastic. Lining is perfect. I took this as a good sign. (last time it was too thick and we had to come back two days later).
The nurse who scanned me was the same nurse who was called to take me to the ward after the ectopic. She remembered me. At first I thought I must have made a great impression, then I realised it’s probably because she’s not seen too many IVF twin pregnancies resulting in miscarriage AND ectopic. Either way, I’m obviously very memorable.
I left the appointment feeling much more positive. Much more excited. I’m allowing myself to look forward to the possibilities. The “what if’s” are much happier this time around.
I’ve been reading “The Secret” recently and I am in no means exaggerating when I say it’s changed (and changing) my life.
If you haven’t read it, I won’t go in to too much detail but it essentially tells you how your thoughts are so powerful and they become your reality. It’s through reading this that I realised how negative I’ve been over the past few years. Even thoughts like “I don’t want to be late” can be construed as negative.
I’ve been crippled with self doubt and low self esteem and it largely stems from experiencing so many losses. But recently I’ve been making changes. Hubby bought me a mini journal and I’ve been writing positive thoughts in it and reading it every day. I’ve been looking at my body and telling myself I look amazing. Why is it, that as women we’re not allowed to do that? That if you’re proud of your body, or you compliment yourself – people don’t seem to like it? I think you should all try it. Write down positive notes to yourself and read them every day for 2 weeks and see how you feel after it?
My confidence has grown (I’m still a work in progress) and I feel so much more relaxed and positive. I’m not getting stressed and anxious about as many things any more. I remind myself every day of what I’m grateful for and I really do believe I’ll achieve anything I want to.
I’m going in to this next round of IVF as a much calmer, more excited person. I used to say “What if this fails, what if I lose the baby”? I was always worried and panicking, but now I’m going in to this saying
“What if we have a baby?”
I never really shared my last round of IVF with anyone. I’m an advocate for telling the “12 week rule” to go fuck itself (apologies for colourful language) but for some reason I wanted to do the whole thing alone.
Maybe out of fear? But isn’t that what I’m speaking out against. Talk about it. Tell people what you’re going through. People want to support you.
I say these things to people over and over again but strangely, I chose not to follow my own advice and where did it get me? Up baby loss creek without a bloody paddle.
I needed people to know what had happened. Why I couldn’t be arsed going out for dinner. Or why I was popping pretty high dose painkillers every 4 hours. Or why there were stitches all over my bloody body and why I had grew 2 dress sizes over night. (I swear the laparoscopy put a couple of stone on me)
This time it’s different. I’m sharing. Social media, family, work, friends, strangers. Whoever the Hell wants to listen. If I want people’s attitude to change around baby loss then the change has to start with me.
So, on the 21st June I go get my drugs and we start attempt number 3. And I’ll shout it from the rooftops. I’m no longer afraid of “jinxing” it. Going in to it with that thought is already starting on a negative footing and I’m all about going in to this much more relaxed and more positive.
I’m excited about what our future holds. I know other people are excited too, and I want them to be a part of it this time.
Another Facebook pregnancy announcement that wasn’t mine today.
I was fine with it. I “liked” and commented. I mean, if that’s not worthy of an award I don’t know what the hell is? (Apart from this blog of course, did I mention I’m nominated again? Not shortlisted yet – so fingers crossed)
I’m getting distracted. Focus Nicola. Yes, I was ok. It still reminds me I’m not quite there yet, but it doesn’t bring the same pain it once did.
I made the phone call to the IVF clinic today too. I told them we’re ready for our next go. Third time’s a charm right?
I’ve been feeling a bit fed up of this journey recently. No, “fed up” isn’t the write term actually. It’s too negative sounding. “At peace” is better. I’m at peace with whatever happens now.
I’m no longer in a rush to get pregnant or start treatment or have a baby. I’m not desperate anymore. And at one point, I was. Desperation is a horrible emotion. It rules your thoughts and your well-being and poisons everything around you. I’m not the same person I was four years ago. I’m not desperate anymore.
As Doris Day once famously said
Que sera sera