And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I want to blog about my pregnancy & it’s many complications. The Polyhydramnios & Obstetric Cholestasis. I’d like to tell you my birth story. I need to fill you in on the first four-and-a-bit months of parenting, or talk about raising a baby with developmental dysplasia of the hip, who is in a pavlik harness. I could certainly talk about getting Mastitis. Twice.
I will do all of these things in time, when I have the time. But firstly it is about time that I introduce my little lady, Gabriella. She keeps me busy and I am so incredibly grateful for that. She is sweet and cheeky. She smiles so enthusiastically it’s like the top of her head might fall off. She’s developing a sense of humour & often laughs until she is sick or gets the hiccups. She is strong willed & fights every nap like a ninja. She won’t take a dummy, but would quite happily sleep with my nipple in her mouth at all times. She loves music and cuddles apart from when she is overtired, then she wants everyone to SHUT THE HELL UP AND STOP LOOKING AT HER.
We’re making this whole parenting lark up as we go and it is the hardest thing that we’ve ever done, but the reward everytime that our gorgeous, goofy little lady gives us a gummy smile makes every sleep-deprived second totally worth it.
World, meet Gabriella:
“And though she be but little, she is fierce”
I am writing this from the (dis)comfort of my bed. The windows are wide open, I am stark bollock naked (sorry!) & a fan is pointed directly at me on full blast. London is experiencing a heat wave like never before. My train journey home from work was the sweatiest experience of my life. We (Brits) seriously need to think long and hard about installing aircon in our public transport system.
The last couple of weeks have been a wonderful blur of exhaustion, nausea & hunger.
At 8w2d just before I went to bed I noticed the tiniest dot of brown on the toilet paper when I wiped and I spent some time trying to decide if it was a dot on the roll or it had come out of me. I decided it was nothing to do with me and thought nothing more of it. The following afternoon the same thing happened again while I was at work. At this point I had had no progesterone for 5 days & I was slightly concerned that I had been taken off it too early. I decided to leave work immediately & go straight to the early pregnancy unit at my local hospital. They did a quick (external!!!) ultrasound scan and confirmed all is well with the baby. Phew. My sister came in with me and got to see the heartbeat and sobbed uncontrollably. Very cute.
In very exciting news a REAL LIFE FRIEND is pregnant. It is VERY early days but she is the only person that I know IRL that has had any sort of fertility issues so we keep each other up to date with our progress. I couldn’t be happier for her. Long story short, it took her just under a year to fall pregnant. All was looking great at the 12wk scan with baby measuring on the 50th percentile. So she started telling people her news. At 13w5d she was rushed to A&E as her pregnancy was ectopic & her tube had ruptured. They just failed to notice this at her 12 weeks scan. The odds of an ectopic pregnancy making it this far are 1 in 30,000. The odds of this subsequent pregnancy being ectopic are 1 in 10. I’m holding my breath until her early scan at 6 weeks to confirm the location of this pregnancy. I feel good about it though, and I truly hope to be her bump buddy.
IVF and pregnancy loss leave people damaged and unable to enjoy pregnancy in the blissful ignorance that most of society can enjoy. We met for lunch the day after her BFP and promised each other that we would live more in the moment and enjoy each second of our pregnancies as if they’re our last. So right now I am enjoying it. It’s truly amazing. I feel dreadful most of the time and am prone to complain about the more unusual symptoms – like the fact that my left ear constantly needs to pop?! – however, I had started to believe that a child wasn’t in our future and actually the cause of all of this is a tiny little person created by me and my husband. I could not be happier, and I am so, so grateful.
What a week: Pancake day, Valentines day, my first run post-op – man did that feel good – and then my appointment letter came through for my next IVF cycle!!!
Is pancake day a thing outside of the UK? I was considering just ignoring it given that I’m sticking to The Endo Diet but I found a recipe for gluten free, dairy free pancakes that consisted of 1 mashed banana & 2 eggs cooked in a little coconut oil. YUM!
I covered it in pecans, cocoa nibs & agave syrup & it was DELISH.
This consisted of a trip to see Die Hard & a card from D that made me cry. Inside he wrote some really sweet things & at the end he put ‘don’t ever change’ *sob*.
And finally, in 10 days I will be discussing round 2 with the IVF hospital. This means that I could start as early as April, although I think I’ll actually be starting in May because of my holiday. I am excited and am focusing on getting my body back in shape between now and then.
Things are finally moving again! X
On Monday I was told that I have severe endometriosis and my left ovary is stuck to my uterus and my bowel. The surgeon actually briefly mentioned this immediately after the laparoscopy, but I was too groggy to take it in properly at the time. I couldn’t remember the precise wording that he had used and was hoping that they were wedged there, rather than stuck with adhesions. You know you’ve been in the trenches for too long when you’re hoping that your ovary is wedged between your bowel and your uterus. I had rather optimistically been googling “how do I move my ovary” which returned a disappointingly (but not unsuprisingly) low number of responses. But no, they’re stuck together with nasty black endo goop.
So far I have had no reaction to this news whatsoever. I am numb. I get up, get ready, go to work, come home, eat dinner, go to sleep, and then I start all over again. The repetitive, unstimulating work week has gone by and now I am sat home alone on a Saturday afternoon and I am trying to decide how I feel.
On the one hand, 50% of my ovaries don’t work. This is bad given that 99% of D’s swimmers don’t work. I do not like those odds.
On the other hand, 50% of my ovaries do work. That’s more than some people. I can still create a child that is biologically mine. I should be grateful for this.
The most confusing reaction that I am having is the overwhelming sense of relief. I always knew that there was something wrong with me. Not my borderline PCOS hormone profile, something bigger than that. When doctors asked me how painful AF was I used to comment on the subjective nature of the question and then mention that I needed to medicate for the first couple of days of my cycle. I’m not really one to dramatise my pain and I consider myself to have a high pain threshold. For a while now I had been concerned that endo had spread to my bowel as I was always very uncomfortable before a bowel movement. There is a small part of me that is pleased that I AM NOT GOING CRAZY and that I do know my body. I need to listen to my body more. My infertility struggles have taught me how to do this. I think D was really suprised with this diagnosis. He has been fetching me hot water bottles and watching me bloat up and struggle to fit into my clothes once a month for 13 years and yet I guess he must have thought that that was normal.
I remember being 9 years old on my sister’s first day of school. I couldn’t pick her up afterwards because I had severe AF pains and all I could do was lay on the sofa. I remember being 10 years old and bleeding through my towel at school. I told my teacher and she took me to the staff toilets for supplies. I was wearing a skirt and as we walked, blood started to run down my leg. That memory still freaks me out 18 years later. I wish the doctors had listened to me then. I wish that they cared as much about diet and lifestyle as they do about medicines and surgery. Most of all I wish that this next cycle gives me the family that I long for. Because it is a longing now, I long with every fibre of my being. I am ready to be a mother. Fuck you infertility.
Since the trigger shot on Sunday I have had night after night of blissful, uninterrupted, deep, no-dream sleep. I didn’t realise just how long I had gone without it.
I feel like I am slowly starting to resemble the lady that my husband married. I feel reaaaaaally happy. I don’t want this feeling to end.
Grow embies, grow. Stick embies, stick. Mummy loves you already!
Good morning everybody,
It’s good news! First of all, they called me at 08:52 am on day one after retrieval. How good is that?! I feel absolutely fine post retrieval so far, which is a relief.
Of the 4 eggs that they retrieved, 3 were mature. This was a real WTF moment as I thought they had said yesterday that they retrieved 4 mature eggs, in a way that suggested that perhaps they had retrieved 15 eggs but 4 were mature. But no, retrieved = 4, mature = 3.
ALL THREE FERTILISED!!!
Wahooooo! I was convinced that there would be nothing to put back but as it stands they have said that they will call me on Friday morning & let me know whether they will put them back that day (day 3) or if we will wait until Sunday (day 5).
This has all worked out perfectly as I’ve booked Friday onwards as holiday & I can go back to work tomorrow after having just 2 days off sick. I have even said that I will work from home today although I doubt I’ll get much done!
I feel like my normal self today. I had a great nights sleep last night & I’m in a good mood. I did insert the first of my cyclogest tablets this morning though so i guess we’ll see how long that lasts. I’m wearing granny pants and a sanitary towel round the back in anticipation! I wonder if my finger will ever feel clean again after 2 solid weeks of this!!