Still Passing Open Windows ....

Back

I'm back! Did you miss me? It feels like ages since I've been here, cruising the net. "And the IUI?" you ask. Well. It didn't work. Yes, it sucks. No due date in November after all. I will go back to the RE in March and we will discuss ... dan de da (big drum roll please) .... IVF. Oh well, had to get here at some point and it will satisfy my little "leave no stone unturned" heart and I can expand my repertoire of stories. It just takes so long, so so long. And I think that if I get pregnant in, what?, April? May? I will reach 30 weeks around November and due date around December. On second thoughts, that is not that bad, there is still the possibility in theory of a baby something this year. 

I just worry so much, about being pregnant mainly. Will my cervix hold up? Will my placenta hold up? Should I get a cerclage again when last time it probably contributed to the infection that brought my pregnancy to a rapid and unexpected end? What to do, oh what to do? The doctors are cautious and conservative. Some suggest a cerclage earlier and a different type. Some suggest watching and waiting. I do not like the idea of another cerclage but I am not sure if it is at all feasible for me to carry a pregnancy without a cerclage. I am thinking of going to chat to my obstetrician. Then I think it is just me trying to occupy myself, trying to move forward when actually all moving forward means at this stage is waiting. And I can never figure out if I am simply waiting or just playing the ostrich.

Day ..... 20?

No symptoms, naaahthing. Not a boob twinge, not a heightened appreciation of the scent of my falafel, not a nauseous moment. Nothing.

I don't know why I even scan my body actually. The last time I was pregnant I had no symptoms. Nothing. Not a sausage. Nauseous - no. Tired - not more than usual. Breast tenderness - no. I was thirsty, I remember that and I remember reading how much more blood you have when you're pregnant or something along those lines and drinking loads of water. So, maybe I am just a symptomless woman. Pity that can't translate into problem-free.

So, one week after the IUI, I went to gym finally. I ran for 30 minutes, go girl, and then soaked in the jacuzzi with H and enjoyed the post-run endorphins. Lovely. Just lovely. Lovely jacuzzi. Lovely gym session. Lovely day. Lovely ... Yes, let's just stop there, you get the picture, and no matter how many endorphins are floating around I cannot say "lovely life", I am still in my "woe is me" phase. It is February after all.

You see, February has never been a good month for me. I had a traumatic break-up in February. I discovered I had diabetes in February. I was dealing with an abnormal pap smear result in February six years ago. So, I am a bit wary of February.

And I still have no symptoms. And dammit, any pregnancy worth its salt has symptoms. Doesn't it? Doesn't it? Even if this is early days. I want a sign. I want a big flashing sign saying, "Carlynn, my love, you are pregnant and this will be a strong and wonderful pregnancy and everything will be fine." Wouldn't that be lovely?

Hope

Today I just felt so down. Last night H said, "It will be so funny going back home and seeing all my friends with babies." It was one of those passing comments, thinking aloud-type statements and I was in a bad mood anyway but it sent me spiralling down the stairway of doom. Today I just felt like I was never going to have children, that it was never going to work, that I was surrounded by uberfertiles who decided to fall pregnant and then do, that I was the only moron who had been trying for four years and who had what to show for it? Why, nothing! Fancy that.

And then I read a lovely comment from Baby Blues wishing me luck in this cycle and I read Bumble Bee's Listen now, to the Gentle Whispers of Hope post and I felt better. I felt less like an idiot running after a prize when everyone knows Sports Day is over but no-one wants to tell me. I felt more like someone who is doing something hard but that it is admirable rather than ridiculous and masochistic. Thank you to everyone in this community who sends hope and encouragement. Some days it is the first ray of sunshine on a dark day.

Day 14

I did the trigger shot on Saturday at midnight, after 2 bottles of champagne and 2 bottles of red wine, shared among 3 of us and spread out over the whole day.

The actual IUI was today and it went fine.

Then I heard that my RE might be moving 50km away. Bad, bad, bad. Must fall pregnant fast.

My friend's wedding is around the time I will find out if this IUI worked or not. I am trying to figure out if that is good as it will distract me or bad as I will have to act all Party!Party! when all I want to do is crawl into bed and eat chocolate, Green & Blacks, Cadburies, whatever, I won't be fussy at that point.

Pull yourself together, Carlynn. Replace the chocolate with tequila and get out there on the dance floor.

Good, that's better, I now have my plan of action mapped out. Success = be happy and dance. No success = tequila and dance. Either way I need a dress.

Looking ok

I don't want to put anything more positive as a title. This is still early. Very early. It seems silly to get happy about things now but the scan went fine. There is a dominant follicule with a good size. They are waiting for the results of the blood test but I'll probably do a trigger shot on Saturday night and an insemination on Monday.

All my little vials are carefully packed in my luggage to be checked in so I don't take medecine as cabin baggage and now it looks like I won't even need to take them at all. Isn't life funny? We plan and organise and then things change and we don't need all that planning and organising. Still, I would rather it was this way than running around like a mad chicken at the last minute trying to find syringes and pills I don't have.

The follicule is exactly the same size it was when I fell pregnant. The timing is exactly the same, trigger on Saturday and insemination on Monday. It is partly eerie, partly encouraging. Who am I kidding? It is very encouraging for me who reads signs as if they were written clearly in English and not just murky coffee foam at the bottom of my cup. And speaking of coffee, off to London and a big cup of Starbucks, so exciting. Oh yes, and I'll see two best friends, that's good too. But the Starbucks, now that I don't get every day.

What day is it?

Tired. Am I always tired? It feels like I am always writing tired here. I asked my RE for sick leave at 50% next week. Last time I did an IUI I was flattened by tiredness and I justify the sick leave by telling myself I have diabetes. I need to rest. The nurse said yesterday, as she was drawing blood, "Because you have to be careful," and she paused, "You are the one with diabetes, aren't you?" Oh yes, that's me and I'm milking it.

Everyone else actually seems more worried about it than me. It has become something that just is for me and when nurses or doctors start going, "Oooh, you must be careful, you have diabetes," I think, "Or otherwise what? I'll fall?" For now, all is going fine and I think it's fear of the unknown that makes the medical staff I come into contact with behave like that. Or at least, that's what I hope.

Anyway, back to fertility stuff. My blood results came back and my injection strength was reduced back to one little pill instead of two. My husband mixed and prepared my syringe for me, so sweet. And funnily enough, fun. I could get into this. Maybe I should become a pharmacist and go into potion mixing. The injecting part I still don't love but I have discovered that if I jab into a particularly fatty bit, it doesn't usually hurt.

Last time I read that it was supposed to be an intramuscular injection and the pharmacist offered me a needle a horse would flinch at. I spoke to the nurse about this and she said, "Well, what you've been doing is working, isn't it? Look at the blood tests." So, no to the horse needle and yes to injecting into my pudgy stomach. It has to be good for something after all.

Tomorrow is scan no. 1 and blood test no. 2.

All systems clear

Yesterday I had my scan with the RE. Everything is fine. There is no cyst. I start stims on Sunday.

I am still amazed there is no cyst. "Really, are you sure?" I want to ask. "Are you sure everything is normal and ok?" I am knocked sideways by this unexpectedly good news. I am trying to accept it as normal. This year can be a nice year. Things can go fine. I can fall pregnant. I can carry a pregnancy to term. And maybe, perhaps, we could possibly have a baby in November, no, I don't even want to say it but Hope is thinking it, Hope is thinking it often and swirling around in her ballgown, practising her little Hope waltz in my head, humming all her favourite waltz tunes.

Last night as we were preparing supper, I was talking about adoption. My plan is to throw out a sentence or two every now and again to prepare my husband because you know, apparently men are two years behind women in the fertility game. When we want to see a RE, they are still thinking, "We could try a few more times," and when we are thinking, "Guatemala has a good foster care system, they sound like an interesting country to adopt from," our male partner might be thinking, "We've fallen pregnant before, it can happen again." Anyway. So I was talking about adoption and H said, as he stirred the sausages and leant his head against the top of the stove-thingy, "I would love to see our child. It is a dream I have." And I remembered that it is a dream I have too.

I am trying to be realistic. Maybe I am trying to prepare myself for more disappointments. I want to be a mother. I think I will be a good mother. Dammit, mess doesn't bother me, I have big breasts and child bearing hips, I'm perfect for the role. And after all this time, I just want to be a mother. I think I would love a child, I know I would love a child whether it came from me or not and this feeling is growing stronger. But H reminded me last night of my dream to have our child. I would love to. I would love a child that was a mixture of us both. I would love a child with H's luxuriant hair and my trait of questioning everything and perhaps H's grandmother's control freak nature. One more year. That is what I tell myself. And then every time my colleagues leave the office and I am alone, I think that I could phone and ask for the adoption application forms now.

So, what's up in your part of the world?

Week 1?

I have taken almost a week of The Pill. I have found a new packet of The Pill, cunningly hidden away in one of my bags underneath an Amazon package and a handbag that needs fixing, so I can continue with The dreaded Pill. Tuesday I will do an ultrasound to see if we start stims on Sunday.

I am off to London next weekend for a hen party. Taking 2 vials of stims plus 4 needles and the syringes through Heathrow is going to be fun. So is sneaking into the bathroom at 8pm with my cooler bag tucked under my arm, "Excuse me, just off to powder my nose, be right back."

And on Friday, as I was pouring a cup of coffee, a friend was talking about orphanages in Haiti and for the first time EVER, I felt that Angelina Jolie urge to save a child living in poverty. To understand, you need to know that although I have been thinking more and more that adopting a child is the only way we can realistically have children, it has always been a selfish urge putting me first: I want a child. I do not like this idea that adoption is saving a child. I have reservations about this view and I do not think it is good to begin life as a parent with this Me Benevolent Saviour, You Developing World Child. I know that in infertility circles this view is not common but it seems more common among the uberfertile. I know not everyone feels like this and I do not want to offend anyone. It is Sunday night, I feel deeply indigo and ... mmm, perhaps my blood sugar is low. I will go off to have an M&M or 10. I wish everyone a happy and serene week.

Next week: only IUI will be discussed. No more controversial subjects. Promise. Cross my heart. Maybe even a little humour, who knows?