Saturday, 18 January 2014

And so it begins...

Have just received the drug delivery.  Only one box which is good as I had been prepared for more.  Still there does seem like quite a lot to get my head around...and an awful lot of needles! 

I have just spent a good 20 minutes trying to match up the various drugs/vials/syringes etc to the delivery note and have had to admit defeat as am convinced at least one item is missing.  They don't make it easy though...abbreviated medical terms aren't all that helpful really are they? Can't they label them...the little white box with the blue writing? Have called the clinic and hopefully someone will call me back soon to make sure I have everything.  

The Pregnyl has gone in the fridge (I think that is the only one which needs to!?!?) Tried to dismiss my 'what if' concerns about a power cut...but if I am honest have a little back-up plan in my mind involving cooler bags and ice packs just in case!

Am now currently trying to decide where on earth to keep it all? I have to be organised...chaos is not an option!

Actually quite looking forward to the teach on Monday so at least I will hopefully understand it all a bit more...hopefully!

Thursday, 9 January 2014


Back in July I had two procedures, both part of the process required by the hospital to decide whether we qualified for IVF.  I am not particularly squeamish and I am pretty pragmatic about these things, after all they are hopefully a means to a very positive end. However, sometimes even the most positive of mindsets can be rocked by insensitive words, meant not unkindly but said unthinkingly.

The first procedure was actually very pleasant...well it didn't end in tears!  A lovely ultrasound lady gave me an internal scan and told me that everything looked to be in tip top condition. We also had a lovely chat and she wished me well on my IVF journey. Great, thank you very much I thought and went home happily!

Unfortunately, the second procedure turned out to be not quite so pleasant. The name of this lovely procedure is a hysterosalpingogram, otherwise known as an HSG and is basically an x-ray that looks at the inside of your uterus and tubes.  It involves a dye being squirted through a thin tube that is put through the vagina and into the uterus. If the x-ray shows the dye flowing happily through you tubes you know there are no blockages or other issues to worry about. 

Ok, I thought...doesn't sound so bad and I dutifully put on my backless gown (very chic) and hopped up on the bed while a very large x-ray machine was pulled into place above my abdomen.  

Now the fun really started.  I was asked to spread my legs (as you do) and then of course relax while a very bright miners lamp was shone where the light doesn't usually shine! After much prodding and poking I sensed all wasn't quite as straightforward as it should have been.  Much puffing and tutting could be heard from the nurse as she struggled to get the tube where it needed to be. Not wanting to be an inconvenience I asked if I should move at all or do anything differently. She told me that due to my titled cervix she was struggling to get the tube to jump the hurdle so to speak. 

To her credit she persevered for quite some time and I think at one stage she actually dislocated her shoulders as she contorted her body trying to get a better look.  About 20 minutes later she had to admit defeat and apologetically hurried off to get her boss who I was assured would have no trouble with the tube.  

Well unfortunately she did! Another 15 to 20 minutes of prodding and poking by boss lady ensued until eventually, thank goodness dye was squirted, x-ray was taken, Bob's your Uncle, Fanny's your Aunt and no blockages were shown!  Hooray I thought.  That was until boss lady said "well I don't know how they will ever manage embryo transfer!"  

Now I had done pretty well up until this point considering I had been lying on a bed with my legs in the air for nearly 45 minutes in no small amount of discomfort.  I did manage to hold it together though until I got home where I promptly burst into tears and declared to the man of my dreams that due to my mis-shapen bits we had no hope of conceiving through IVF let alone naturally.

After I had calmed down enough to do a little research via that guru otherwise known as Google and did realise that in fact even people with weird shaped bits have babies...all hope was not lost and panic was over...for today anyway! 

Friday 13th...lucky for some!

Back in September we entered the doctors office at the hospital (not Igor to our relief!) and were given the wonderful news that we were going to be referred for IVF and what's more we qualify for one free round on the NHS (I know it is three rounds in some counties but I am not about to complain)! Well, I wanted to cry with joy and was even more excited to be told that we could possibly get started in as soon as three months! 

So now I'm feeling excited and a bit nervous but mostly excited...things are finally happening!Next Steps
  • Research the private clinics in our area to choose our favourite.
  • I need to have another blood test between days two and four of my next period (if I am not already pregnant of course...well you have to stay positive!)  
Watch this space....

Friday, 12 July 2013

On and on and on...

So I came on yesterday.  I actually feel like I handled it pretty well this month - for a change!  I am not sure if that is because:

  • I am doing really well on the whole 'trying to stay positive' thing (unlikely at this point!)
  • we are moving forwards on the road to IVF
  • whether part of me just didn't expect to be pregnant this month
On the positive side:
  • I can stop feeling guilty about the one small bottle of beer I had this month!  
  • I can gorge on smoked salmon, soft cheese and red wine for at least a week without worrying I am harming my unborn child
  • I wont be seven months pregnant at my wedding (not sure if this is positive or not?)
  • I know I haven't reached the menopause!

Monday, 1 July 2013

"This may feel a little cold"

It was finally here.  Our first appointment with the gynaecologist. Why was I so nervous?  For the last couple of days I had been preparing mentally, going over answers to possible questions they may ask,  terrified that I might say the wrong thing and be sent away with our dreams trailing sadly behind us.

As we sat in the waiting room I looked nervously around me and couldn't help but think about the other women and couples.  Had they been trying for as long as we had? Did they want it as much? Did the two pregnant ladies go through all of this too? 

Our name was suddenly called by a rather serious looking chap who introduced himself to me, completely ignoring the man of my dreams.  We sat down in his office and he began asking me a long list of questions: 

  • How long have you been trying to get pregnant?
  • Have you ever been pregnant?
  • Have you ever had an operation?
  • Do you smoke
  • etc. etc. etc.
That went okay I thought.  He hasn't told us to leave yet.

Next it was time for an internal.  Lovely.  At least I had taken extra care in the tidying department that morning - just in case!  The man of my dreams (who had still not been acknowledged in any way) looked increasingly uncomfortable and sat perched on his chair not quite knowing what to say or where to look.  

As I stepped behind the curtain to "remove everything below the waist" I was suddenly faced with a dilemma.  Obviously I needed to take off my jeans and knickers but what about my socks? Now, I do realise that my socks would of course in no way hinder the examination but let's face it; socks are not a good look. But to take them off did seem a little informal.  I must have stood there, knickers off, for at least 30 seconds debating this before realising my priorities may have been a little skewed that morning.  The socks stayed on. 

"Are you ready?" the jolly nurse chaperone called from behind the curtain.  I resisted the temptation to respond with some witty remark ("I was born ready" etc.) and simply responded with a subdued "yes". All this time the man of my dreams was sat in the same room on the other side of the curtain.  A very strange and somewhat uncomfortable state of affairs not helped by the doctor announcing he was now going to insert his finger and have a feel around.  I could only imagine the horror in his eyes as he tried to digest this information. 

It was over.  I dressed and sat down next to the man of my dreams who looked visibly shaken by this point.  The doctor told me (I say me as he really did seem to think I was the only other person in the room) he would refer me for a couple of other tests and that I would need to go back and see him in three months to decide what to do next.  I think my face must have dropped at this point but he kindly explained that it was a long process and that these things had to be done in the right order. I nodded stoically, trying to hold back the tears. 

So we left the hospital that day:

  • me feeling happy that things were moving forward but upset as the magnitude of the next few months/years hit me
  • the man of my dreams debating whether it would have been inappropriate to get his book out and read it rather than sit there being ignored/forced to listen to my examination by a doctor he would now only refer to as Igor

we held hands and headed off to pay the extortionate hospital car parking fees.


Tuesday, 18 June 2013

Babies Babies Everywhere

It is a commonly known fact that as soon as you start wanting something you see it everywhere and with this in mind I find myself comparing babies to Skodas.

Saturday, 15 June 2013

The Joy of Sex

"So, when are your hot spots this month then?" The man of my dreams asks lovingly.

"Next Tuesday looks good." I reply consulting my trusty app.

"I've been thinking." he says.

"Oh no." I muse silently.

"Let's try a turkey baster this month.  Clearly my sperm need a bit of directional guidance."

I say nothing.

"What?" he asks innocently.

"Really?" I reply, my right eyebrow raised in consternation.

"I'm just trying to shortcut the process." he continues laughing at his own razor sharp wit.

"Very funny." I say sardonically hoping this will be an end to it.

Unfortunately I don't think it will...