2nd Appointment

2nd Appointment

I had my 2nd appointment at the I.V.F clinic today. I had no idea what to expect – I kind of figured it wouldn’t be baby making time just yet but, I don’t know what’s left to do. Turns out, it’s a lot.  

I waited for like an hour in the waiting room. It was so busy. I’m not complaining about waiting (well I’m not complaining now. I was probably internally complaining a little at the time) but, I’m just so shocked at how many men and women are going through this. And that was just today! How many were there yesterday? And how many will be there tomorrow? And the next day? 

It’s kind of comforting knowing I’m not doing this alone. There’s so many of us. Of course it’s tragic, and I wish this whole miscarriage/infertility thing was just a myth – but it is kind of nice knowing you’re not in the boat alone.  

I read one of the notices they had up in the waiting room. Turns out this clinic (at the Glasgow Royal Infirmary) has the highest success rate in the whole of Scotland. Something like 168 live births from 309 embryo transfers (I think that’s the terms, I’m still not 100% sure of all of this). Those numbers may not be entirely accurate either, but it’s around that mark. 

Back to the appointment. I had an ultrasound to make sure I was cyst free and that my uterus looked good.  

“You have a lovely uterus” 

“Why thank you, it’s all my own”.  

It’s kind of strange getting compliments on your uterus, but hey – I’m a woman – a compliments a compliment. 

She showed me where I’d ovulated from this month and I could see 5 or 6 little black circles that she told me were my eggs. First scan I’ve had that’s made me smile. That’s an achievement in it’s own. 

Now all that’s left is to wait. Wait for Nikki’s results. Wait to get to the top of the list. Wait to get more blood tests. Wait to get our detailed medical history. Wait for my period. Wait for our treatment to start. 

This is all getting very very real. 

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Misconceptions

Misconceptions

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I unfollowed someone on Instagram yesterday because of her pregnancy announcement. 

In my defense, I never blocked her so you know – progress. 

We used to work together and it’s not that I’m unhappy for her – I just don’t want to see the picture updates. I don’t want to see the scans, the bumps, the pram, the clothes she’s buying. I don’t want to see them. Not yet. 

I felt kind of down for a few minutes – Ok 10 maybe – and then do you know what? 

I was okay.  

Totally fine actually (I still didn’t follow her again, but that’s neither here nor there). But I think that’s okay, I think that’s normal. I won’t sit here and lie to you that it’s easy to hear of pregnancies, or to look at people’s social media photos because it’s not easy. I don’t think it ever will be. But it also doesn’t make me feel the way it used to, and that has to be a good thing doesn’t it? 

It’s okay to be a little selfish at times, and it’s ok to not always be nice to everyone. You need to do what makes you feel good. Or what makes you feel even just a little bit better. 

I know I’ve earned the right to be a little selfish sometimes. Fuck it. Fuck everyone else’s opinions. Do what you want to do. 

 

28..01.2018 

Over the past few years I’ve encountered a fair amount of misconceptions, or judgments relating to my miscarriages and I thought I’d share some. My top 5:  

  1. I hate being around children 
  1. I hate pregnant people 
  1. I’m too fragile to hear about your own pregnancy 
  1. There must be something wrong with me – I probably just can’t carry boys. 
  1. I’m not upset anymore. It was ages ago, and it wasn’t even a baby. 

So these things come up a lot. A lot. It’s hard to break the stigma around miscarriage and I know not everyone means to be nasty or hurtful. A lot of people just don’t know what to say, or are too scared to ask so they make their own judgements. But if you’re curious – here’s my answers: 

 

  1. No, I happen to love children. I’m studying childcare, and more often than not, I find them more fun than adults. Yes babies are hard, of course they are – but that doesn’t mean I hate being around them. 
  1. I do not hate pregnant people.  But imagine you losing your wife or husband or you recently went through a horrendous break up – seeing other people happy and in love would have an affect on you for a little while – you’d be a little upset. It’s normal. Same with me and pregnant people. After a loss it’s a little difficult. I’m not the devil. I’m human and I’m flawed. Just like you. 
  1. I am not an idiot. I’m more than aware that people get pregnant. I’ve been dealing with it for a long time – you can tell me. I might not be 100% happy all the time, and I may even ignore your social media pages for a little while but, I’m  more than capable of hearing about it and I’ll deal with it in my own way. And I can be happy for you. 
  1. Please do not try guess what is wrong with me. Nurses don’t know. Doctors don’t know. Teams of specialists don’t know. You certainly don’t know. Yes maybe your auntie “couldn’t carry boys ” (although how they ever found that is beyond me) but I’m not your auntie. I’ve had miscarriages. I’m now struggling to fall pregnant. There is nothing wrong with me. I am like millions of other women around the world. I’m  normal.  
  1. Ok so just don’t. Don’t ever tell me it wasn’t a baby. Don’t tell me how to feel. Don’t tell me how long I can feel sad. Don’t assume anything. I lost my children and I can never change that. But your assumptions and your judgments don’t help anything. If you want to know anything – just ask me. 

Anyone else deal with something similar? I know I’m not the only one!

 

 

New Year. New Opportunities

New Year. New Opportunities

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I can’t believe it’s that time again. Feels like only yesterday I was wishing everyone a Merry Christmas. It makes me sound so old but, where does the time go? 

This year was our first Christmas Eve with Kian so we got to wake up and watch him open his presents on Christmas morning. We went all out with Christmas Eve boxes, letters from Santa, Elf on the Shelf, Elf doors, stockings and a mountain of presents but, I figured this could be the last Christmas with just the 3 of us! (Maybe overly wishful thinking but hey, it’s better being positive right?!) 

After Christmas, we took Kian to Poland for a few days, just to get away from the chaos and the craziness and all the family stuff. It’s nice for a while, but then you just want to relax! 

New Years Eve came and Nikki and I went to our local pub for a cheesy, alcohol fuelled, cheese & pickle on a stick filled karaoke night! It was great, and I promise we only drank a LITTLE too much alcohol. I have to be alcohol free during IVF, so I figured why not go out with a bang? (she says as she’s drinking a glass of wine.) 

My next I.VF. appointment is February 7th – I’m not sure what this one will entail though. Nikki still has to make his “donation”, but I hope we’ll be starting around May or June time. Only time will tell. But I feel good. 

Accepted

Accepted

I have news. Wonderful, wonderful news. We’ve been accepted for IVF! We’re officially on the list! It’s just a waiting game now. 

I know this is no way a guarantee that I’ll have a baby, but I already feel so much more positive about everything. 

So, why did I qualify if I’ve been pregnant multiple times in the past few years? I know people might be wondering about this. I’ve been trying for 3 years now with no success and no explained cause for my miscarriages or my new sudden struggle to conceive – so that essentially qualifies me as having some form of infertility. The fact I have a stepson also doesn’t matter – it used to, but they’ve changed that rule. (I should say that this is Scotland’s rulings, so anywhere else could be – and I think is – entirely different). 

I’m in the process of getting blood tests, and my next appointment isn’t until February, but it’s all pretty exciting. I’ll qualify for 3 rounds of free IVF on the NHS (we’re exceptionally lucky in this country), so I hope with all my heart that one of these will be successful! I’m so excited and nervous and happy and scared and anxious and giddy and every other emotion you can fit in to my little body – except sad – no, I’m not sad. 

Next steps

Next steps

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I’ve officially hit the one year mark. One year since I was last pregnant. I phoned my doctors first thing and asked if he could help. And he did. He was wonderful! (I’ve moved house so I have a new GP and he’s fantastic!) 

He’s going to refer me to the Assisted Conception Unit at the Glasgow Royal Hospital and hopefully they’ll be able to help. He did tell me that there’s still a good chance I’ll conceive naturally so I was advised to keep banging them out in the meantime. (Well Ok he never used that term; he’s a professional for goodness sake but you get the gist.) 

I’ve been thinking of giving myself until I’m about 35. I know that’s not old, but that would be almost 10 years of my life I will have spent trying for a baby and to be honest, that’s enough. For me anyway. It’s a long time to have this cloud hanging over you. Every woman has their own idea of when to stop, and I just feel that this would be right for me. I know that I can’t do this forever – physically or emotionally -and I think coming to terms with that is the right thing to do. 

But no, wait. That sounds negative. And I’m being positive positive positive today. This WILL happen! Things are moving forward. Things are looking up. We’re getting somewhere! 

(I should mention that my husband is really looking forward to the whole sperm in a cup part of the testing. The one time being a man is harder! – no pun intended) 

IVF?

IVF?

So next month will mark a year since I was last pregnant.

I’ll be 31 in November so while I know I’m not particularly old, I know that time is ticking on

Can anyone offer advice? Would I qualify for IVF even though I’ve been pregnant before.. multiple times, but never had a successful one. I don’t want to keep hoping for a miracle for another 3 years. If I need help, I’d want to get it as soon as I can.

So yea.. any IVF women, I’d love to hear from you! (I live in Scotland, so I’m guessing things will be different here than U.S etc but I’d still appreciate any advice!)

Twisted Cyst 

Twisted Cyst 

A few years ago, it was discovered that I had an ovarian cyst. It wasn’t causing me any pain and everyone said that it wasn’t affecting my fertility or causing my miscarriages, so they left it alone. 

Fast forward about a year and after every other test came back negative, the doctors decided to remove it as a precaution. Tick something else off the list. I received an appointment over a year ago but had to cancel as I was pregnant. I called back after my loss to reschedule but heard nothing. 

Apparently they measured it again at my MRI. The cyst had grown, but I never knew. I was never told. I still never got an appointment. 

Around a week ago I had severe pain in my stomach. The level of pain went from about a 3 out of 10 to about a 7.. it was bearable, but it was never gone. 

I somehow managed to pop some painkillers and sleep it off until I woke the next morning doubled over in agony. I rushed to A&E but the pain had subsided by the time I got there, so they took my BP and bloods and sent me home. 

Next day – same thing. The pain came back. It was worse. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t get dressed, I couldn’t do anything. I was in tears. No-one was home so I called Nikki at work and he told me to call an ambulance and get back to A&E and he would meet me there. I waited in agony on my couch for the ambulance to arrive. 

After the ambulance crew told the doctors that morphine wasn’t even touching my pain, they agreed to scan me. It was discovered my cyst had nearly doubled and had twisted around my fallopian tube causing it to become swollen and of course – causing me to be bloody agony! 

The doctor cooly explained that I would need inmediate surgery and probably need to have my ovary removed. I immediately burst into tears. He tried to reassure me but it was useless. I couldnt think logically or calmy. I was frightened and sore and upset. All I could think was “Why was this happening?! Why me?” 

I woke up after my surgery and was told that a different surgeon performed the operation and he saved my tube and only removed the tiniest part of my ovary. Relief. 

I’m grateful it got dealt with, but I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that this might have been causing my losses. I worry it’s caused lasting damage. I really need to catch a break! 

 

 

M.R.I

M.R.I

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, and that if it was 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 understood exactly what she meant. 

The nurses told me to remove all my jewellery, piercings and hair pins. Nothing metal left in my body, and seeing as I have no plates or bionic limbs, that should’ve been pretty simple right? Not quite. I have an intimate piercing that is quite literally impossible to remove on my own. I sheepishly explained this and was told that I may need to reschedule as the piercings can “explode” and rip out whatever part of the body it’s attached to. (yeah, she actually said “rip”). Then another nurse came, handed me a magnet and told me to hold it against my piercing to see if it was magnetised. It wasn’t, so she said I would be safe to go in and there would be nothing to worry about. Sorted then! Then why were exploding vaginas all I could think about? 

I put on my gown and answered some basic health questions, then was warned that the IV buscopan that I was about to receive might make my vision blurred so not to panic about blindness or anything, and that on rare occasions,  some tattoos can heat excessively during an MRI, and if this happens I should push the buzzer and they’ll take me out (I have about 27 tattoos so this wasn’t particularly pleasant news). So now all I can think about it is losing my sight, having exploding genitals and burning from the inside out. Great. What a morning. 

I lay on the bed 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. So when my vaginas flying around in tiny pieces, I won’t be able to throw my hands out and grab anything to salvage! 

I was told I’d be lying under the machine for an hour. An HOUR! I thought this would take a few minutes! As I started to be moved in, I immediately knew what my mum meant – it was horrendous. I felt totally trapped and couldn’t see anything around me apart from white, clinical plastic. They gave me earphones, but it was impossible to concentrate on the awful music over the hum 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 anymore. Damn, not one but, two sneezes! I tried in vain to stifle them, 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. Uh-oh, now my nose was running. Snotters slowly dripped down my face. Oh my God, it’s going in my mouth, it’s going in my mouth! I turned my head ever so slightly to try veer 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, followed by even more snotters. My face was a soggy mess and I couldn’t do anything about it. 

Finally, the murmurs stopped and I started to feel myself move backwards. The nurses appeared and unstrapped the boards. I could finally lift my hands and I immediately wiped my wet, snotter soaked face. It was over.  

Or was it? Was that actually the easy part?