Thalia's fertility journey

7 days, 7 years, what's the difference?

Thanks for everything yesterday, everyone. You are the best. I'm worried that what I'm about to write is going to be self-pitying and ungrateful, so please either cut me some slack or skip this post, probably you should just skip through to next week in fact.

The chances of a successful pregnancy if you don't see anything in a gestational sac at 6w1d are low. They are not zero, but they are low. Yesterday we saw a big, oval gestational sac. That's all we saw for about 5 minutes. After lots of looking around for another sac, looking at the ovaries, focusing up and down, zooming in and out etc., we saw a smudge. A smudge that the sonographer measured and said: that might be the start of your embryo. It's not like there was something clear in there that was just too small. There was maybe something that was like a needle in a haystack to find, and could have been the wall of the sac just in a different plane. Frankly, I don't think the sonographer was sure that it was anything. It's not like she pointed at it and said - there's your fetal pole! She found it just before she was going to give up and measured it for the hell of it. We did not see a yolk sac.

Although the sonographer and the doctor I spoke to in the afternoon (bloody Dr Candour is on holiday AGAIN) both said not to give up, just as you have, it is hard not to despair. I tried to push the doctor to be realistic with me but she kept saying that it was common, although she would not say how common. What I know is IT IS NOT A GOOD THING. It may not mean it's definitely over, but it isn't in any way a hopeful sign. If something does show up next week with a heartbeat, it will be a slow growing embryo, much behind where it should be. That's not good. Don't get me wrong, an embryo measuring not too far off for dates with a heartbeat next week will have me jumping for joy. For at least five minutes until I start freaking out again.

Although after much googling I have not found any statistics (just a lot of articles about Wayne Rooney's foot (try googling: "six week scan" and see what comes up) and a lot of articles by people who can't spell on message boards saying things like: "we had no hrtbt at 6w or 7w and then at 8wks we saw an embryo although the doctor says its too small. The doctor says I'm going to miscarry but I'm trying not to be passamistic (sic) I'm trusting in Gd for a miracle. Don't give up") that say what the chances are, I'm betting it's below 10%. Thank you to everyone who has had this happen to them, Jenn, Nikole and Wendy (on a message board about my hospital). And Catherine, thank you for posting all that information. It does make a difference to know that there is some chance. But even that information said that we should have seen a yolk sac. We didn't.

The fact that there is a chance, however small, makes more of a difference to H than to me. Perhaps because it's a small chance and my life with infertility so far hasn't revolved around being lucky with statistics. He is just that bit more optimistic than I am. I guess it's not hard. And my experience of this cycle so far is that you all have been right to keep on hoping at each stage, when I seem to be floored by disaster as soon as it appears, however vaguely, on the horizon. Either way, it seems much more likely to me that the universe is fucking with me and H again - like Leggy's experiences with blighted ova. Does one blighted ovum a path to donor eggs make? I'm not ready for donor eggs. The whole experience yesterday was so cruel because actually, although I was terrified, I had decided that there was no reason to expect bad news. That the statistics were on our side. That I could hope. Last time I do that.

I did, of course, torture myself yesterday, and it seems that almost every other blog than those mentioned above had a heartbeat at the equivalent stage. Julie's pregnancy with Charlie, Pru's pregnancy, FisherQueen and Lori's recent pregnancies. I'm not posting any more because it's making me cry. If you look through each blog (and I had a good go at this yesterday) you don't end up with much succour.

I'm already calculating when I could cycle again. Probably September given my conservative clinic. I'm figuring out how we could do the Zoladex treatment again and if I'll need another lap. I am sending off my pack of info to Big Guns clinic this week. I'm very not ready to give up, even though part of me feels that I should. I have always always wanted to be a mother. I don't understand why the universe is making it so hard for me, but I am going to keep going until something makes it abundantly clear to me that I just have to find a different path.

*UPDATED TO ADD*

Finally had a no-holds barred converstation with a doctor, in this instance Dr Gorgeous. She agreed that the lack of a yolk sac was a problem. She thought that the fetal pole was a fetal pole, and that 3mm was 'ok'. The size of the gestational sac was good. She said that it was too early to tell, but that next week's scan would be definitive. She put our chances at 40:60 (after much pushing), where 40% is the chance of things going ok next week. At least now we know.

I guess I don't need another category after all

I hate it when my pessimism is well founded. There was a single gestational sac. There was something, after much searching at different resolutions, that might have been a fetal pole. If it was a fetal pole it was not measuring right for 6w1d, it was about 3mm and it should have been 4. There was a sonographer who came out with the immortal line:

"Even in IVF pregnancies the pregnancy timing can be wrong, you might only be 5 weeks."

I thought I'd be kind and not ask her to explain to me precisely how that would work. Our embryos just hung around for a week not developing? That sounds healthy. They implanted a week late? How does that correspond with betas of 251 at 14dpo and 642 at 16dpo? Pretty good betas for an embryo which had only implanted on day 13.

We have another scan next week. My bloody connection is so slow today that I can't google effectively but my guess is that no clear fetal pole at 6w1d means it's blighted ovum and it's all over.

A few weeks ago I said I felt I was being made to go through every infertility hoop, one at a time. I guess this is the blighted ovum/miscarriage or D&C one. I expect the next pregnancy will be the 'see a heartbeat at 6w, embryo croaks subsequently' one.

I saw a chart that said that 85% of women of my age with my beta numbers go on to have a successful full term pregnancy. I guess this was my chance to fall on the wrong side of the statistics.

DBTs and windy days

We're up in the North of England, at our cottage here, for the long weekend. It's a wonderful, peaceful place, and we've been making the most of the sunny, windy weather by taking long walks and exploring our favourite places. I've got work to do but have avoided it so far.

I'm keeping myself busy with the DBTs. My boobs have returned to normal size, and I've still got no other symptoms other than copious amounts of CM. No nausea, no veins showing up, no special tastes or food aversions. I'm just as I always am, with extra lumps in my bum and weight around my middle. Of course I'm having periods of being absolutely convinced that it's all over. I know there's nothing in this list to make that true, but I am panicking nonetheless.

I really upset H this morning by telling him I was convinced that it was all over. He trusts my instincts, after I knew the day before IVF#1 was officially over that it was all for naught. He has regained a bit of optimism after a very blowy walk around the harbour this morning, and has gone out to buy some (hard, pasteurised) cheese for our lunch. Me, I'm not entirely pessimistic but really not convinced either. I keep panicking about how I get through tomorrow if it's bad news. I guess I'll cope, just as I always do. I was about to write that I was hoping that it would be good news but I seem to be beyond hope right now. I just wish I'd develop some bloody symptoms so I wouldn't have to second guess this every time! I didn't bring any peesticks with me so I don't even have that crutch.

Well, this time tomorrow we'll know.

When oh when will I add a new category?

I went to the hairdresser this week. In a bizarre turn of events, she is pregnant. Since her last menstrual period was 17 April, which is exactly 2 weeks before we did egg collection, she is officially precisely as far gone as I am. Although it was an accident, she is thrilled and wanted to talk all about 'going through the pregnancy together' while I was there. When she asked me things like where I wanted to deliver I had to tell her that I was a long way off being ready to even think about that! It made me realise all over again how different things are if you haven't experienced this loss, this difficulty in getting to what seems like just a starting point for every fertile.

Several people have asked questions about protocol etc., so here is a quick recap:

• I am taking 20mg of enoxaparin, which I think is equivalent to heparin, and have been since the day after egg collection. This is to respond to my MTHFR mutation. I've found that mostly I don't get bruises, although I do have a couple of impressive ones where I've misjudged the position of the needle. I've also found that these injections hurt more than I expected.
• I am taking 5mg of folic acid a day, also to respond to the mutation. It's a generic 5mg folic acid pill that the doctors at the clinic prescribed for me. Before that I was just chucking down 12 or 13 of the 400microgram standard pills
• We are doing progesterone in oil, due to my early bleed last time. My husband is doing the injections for me, although the week after next I'm due to go away on business so may have to bite the bullet and do them myself. I now have hard lumps on both buttocks. They're quite sore.
• Our six week scan is on 30 May, next Tuesday, which will be 6w1d in official pregnancy-speak. The Monday is a bank holiday so we couldn't do it at exactly six weeks. Believe me, we would have done if we'd had the chance.

I am very much looking forward to, but am also dreading, that scan. I've been planning how I can drop out of my meetings for the rest of the day if it's bad news. I know that chances are that things are fine. But I don't FEEL pregnant. Yes, my boobs are bigger and they ache, but I'm on megadoses of progesterone. Yes, I get odd abdominal aches and pains, but see above with the progesterone. Two nights ago I suddenly decided that my nipples were darker, and H agreed, but now I think maybe I was imagining things. I'm not feeling sick (nauseous to you Americans). I keep thinking that I maybe I'm about to start, particularly when I look at my breakfast, but then I realise that it's really nothing. On the other hand I don't have any symptoms of NOT being pregnant. I'm not bleeding, not spotting at all any more and haven't done since last Thursday (of course, having written that, I'm waiting for the sky to fall).

I think I'm getting a little better, though. Although I check my underwear every time I go to the loo, which is quite frequently, I'm now not terrified of seeing something. There's quite a lot of dampness there, which I hear is normal, and that's what has sent me running to the loo several times to see if it's blood. But so far so good. At our lovely anniversary dinner on Tuesday night I carefully avoided the cheese course. We even touched on, very lightly, the need to buy a new car if this continues as I won't be able to continue to get in and out of H's sports car. Then we both touched wood and got on with our dinner.

Oh the obsession. It is exciting, but mostly I'm not letting myself get too excited. I wish I could but every time I remember someone else's horrible experience, and I feel chastened. So for now I'll just keep going, trying to let myself be joyful when I can, but also allowing that this is also terrifying, and sometimes it's ok to be terrified.

Two years

Two years ago today, H and I tied the knot. We had a lovely day. Just like today, the sun shone and so although it wasn't very warm, we were able to be outside and enjoy the grounds of the place we got married. Last year a British glamour model chose to get married at the same place. Her wedding looked a little different from ours, shall we say. More sequins, more pink, more eyelashes. I have to say, I preferred ours.

We are very lucky that the last two years have brought us closer together. We have learned to listen better (particularly me), articulate what we feel more clearly (particularly him), we have figured out how to support each other in many subtle ways. We've got a lot more we need to learn how to do for each other. His job still sucks, which makes him sometimes cross and sometimes depressed. I haven 't figured out how best to help him with that, and he hasn't figured out how best to help himself. He still has male insecurity around his sexual performance, and neither of us have figured out how best to deal with that.

We are great at making each other laugh. We buy each other wonderful presents. He tolerates my addiction to bad television and I tolerate his addiction to watching sport. He goes out to buy me the paper every Sunday morning so that I don't have to get out of my pyjamas before noon, and I make him muffins on Saturdays and freeze them in invidual packages so that he has some to take to work. He makes dinner most nights and does almost all of the food shopping. I buy the coffee because I enjoy selecting the funky beans even though I can't drink it any more. He tolerates my messiness and only sometimes gets annoyed by it. I make fun of how much he looks like a criminal when he hasn't shaved for a few days and he doesn't make fun of how hairy my legs get in between waxings. He has come with me to almost every doctor's appointment, even when it's just a blood test. He has stayed almost unremittingly optimistic about our chances. He has bought me ice-cream and magazines in the dark times, and flowers in the good times. He has cried with me and given me all the hugs I need, along with the injections which stress him out more than they hurt me.

What is certain is that we are both delighted to be doing this with each other. Not delighted to have gone through infertility, but delighted to know that we are going through infertility with the right person. We now have the opportunity to learn more together, to work more together, to experience the next 12 months together. That's all good. I hope that 12 months from now our lives will look radically different, in the way that we have been dreaming of. I hope that very hard. I want to have a baby with his blue eyes, and his sportiness. I want him to have the son he dreams of, although I know he'll love a daughter just as much. I'm keen the baby has my eyebrows, though. I wouldn't want to inflict his eyebrows on anyone.

Here's hoping that our third year of marriage is the best yet.

Knowing your place

Four days after her positive beta, in the pregnancy that resulted in Charlie, Julie wrote a post that says oh so much better than I can how I feel to be where I am. She wrote about the challenge of not knowing her place in the new order of things. Was she still an infertile, welcome in the infertile world? Would what she had to say hurt the very people who had made her journey to this place manageable, bearable? Not to mention the ambivalence that results from the 'wearing nature' of being constantly worried about what might happen. She wrote about feeling guilty about not being happy, that it was almost disrespectful to those who might be envying her, that she'd got this far.

I'll stop paraphrasing Julie now. But the sentiments are there, and I'm sure if I looked there would be a post from each one of us who has passed this particular stage gate on the way to a potential take-home baby. We remember how we felt, writing that 'congratulations!' comment on a fellow IF's blog, then making a mental note that we didn't need to visit quite as often, particularly not when we were feeling fragile. For some of us that means immediately moving someone to a new part of the blogroll. I did that, the first time one of my reads got pregnant. It was Megan. Then a few weeks later she had a miscarriage and I moved her back. I felt awful. Now I don't move anyone til 12 weeks, unless they seem so confident early on that the confidence affects me and I therefore feel safe moving them early. Some people, like pixi and mm, who have had miscarriages before, I moved even later than 12 weeks. I basically move people when I think they are starting to see the pregnancy as something that might work out for them.

Today I saw that someone has moved me to the 'en route' section of their weblog. It freaked me out. Of course everyone has the right to keep their blogroll anyhow they want. I remember Susan saying one time that she moves people immediately - it's just too hard otherwise to hit on those links accidentally and get hurt. So the moving is ok, it's just the idea that others now see me in a different category. One I really wasn't sure I would ever see. And as far as I'm concerned, I'm not there yet. My brain isn't there yet. Although I do absolutely have those moments of joy, I also have moments of fear. And, in particular, moments of worry about hurting those who mean so much to me by what I chose to write here, now.

This is dumb because I know I'm a grown up, just as you are. I have carefully chosen how to read blogs of people who got pregnant in the last 2 years. I chose when to visit, and when not, and I have been genuinely delighted for their good outcomes. Almost never has anything anyone wrote upset me other than in a generic, I'm so fucking jealous of them, kind of way. So I have to assume that that is true for the rest of you, too. We're mostly a pretty empathetic, sensitive group. But somehow getting this positive news makes me fear that I might drop off some abyss into insensitivity and inadvertently upset people. I'm acutely conscious that four of us had egg collection within 24 hours of each other (Nina B's was probably also within a few days of us). And it was bad news for all of the other three. That seems so unfair. The fact that all three of those who got negatives have been here, cheering me on, overwhelms me. I know how I felt last cycle when Lindy and Caroline got their good news while S and I were left with the miserable negative. The graciousness of those three, along with so many others in our community, is part of what makes this community blow me away every time. Thank you again.

In terms of the mundane detail, and although I am petrified to type this, I haven't seen any spotting since Friday. I'm still a bit crampy on and off, but much less than early last week. Also getting slight aches down in each side of my groin which I think is just ligament loosening, although shouldn't that happen later? I'm taking it easy this weekend, and feeling resentful when anyone tries to disturb me. I want to be quiet, to think about what's happening, and to partake of my regular drug of choice, bad television. That's where I'm off to now.

Par for the course

I've spoken before about how superstitious this whole process of infertility has made me (sorry, it's late on a Friday evening and I can't face looking up links right now!). How I look for signs, how I panic about saying or doing the 'wrong' thing - usually something that might be perceived as hubristic. Well, now I'm convinced that the universe WANTS me to be this perverse. The spotting has decreased every day since Sunday, and I've not seen red again since Monday morning. I've been telling myself each day, it's normal, don't worry. But then yesterday, after a very vague smear, hardly worth being called a spot, appeared first thing, there was nothing all day, even after a little digging. I started to feel good. Yes, I thought, there might actually be a baby at the end of this.

Guess what happened when I got home? Yes, I went to the loo, and there was a big browny piece of gunk on the loo paper. It's those damn Fates, they are out to get me. I immediately freaked out again, and had to be calmed down by H, who is actually starting to find this quite amusing. Every spotting incident makes me less optimistic. I know that's nonsense, but it's just the way it is. Today, I probably speak too soon, there has been nothing. I keep thinking I'm bleeding, and I run to the bathroom, and then there's nothing there.

I don't see how anyone who has been part of this community DOES feel confident at this point. I just relax briefly and think how cool it will be to be about to give birth when I celebrate my 40th birthday, and then I freak out, thinking about the great beta numbers and good 6 week ultrasound that akeeyu had. How can one retain any faith in a just universe after that? Not to mention all the other horror stories I've read - Manuela's miscarriage at 13 weeks, LEB's at a similar point, all of Lola's, Pixi's...it's very hard to forget it now that I know it!

Don't get me wrong, part of me is very, very happy. Then I remember in how many messed-up ways it can go wrong and I feel scared. Then I think about being pregnant for the FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE and I feel happy again. Not optimistic, but happy. Then I let my dreams run away with me and I start to feel crampy and I freak out, then I remember what Liana said about how she wished she'd enjoyed being pregnant with zappy when she had the chance, and I resolve to do better...you get the picture. I'm sure this is nothing new to you old hands. And I'm coping ok. I'm tired, and I wish I could bleep right through to 30 weeks or something so I could stop the worrying, but I'm ok. When I need to, those are the times I let myself pee on a stick again, so I can see the line and wonder at the novelty of that being true for me and H, for now. And then H laughs at me for being ridiculous, but I don't mind.

Thank you, thank you. You are all part of this, for me.

642

642.

Amazing.

Spotting be damned (don't get me wrong, I wish it would stop), this is wonderful news! And I am going to be happy!!

I know it's normal to be absolutely terrified

Wow. What a lovely response over the last few days. You are all amazing, thank you so much, particularly to those of you who are in your own personal hell right now. You are all very gracious to be so kind to me.

I'm doing ok. Last night it looked as if the bleeding had stopped, so I rejoiced just a little. Then I had an unbelievably restless night - one of my worst since I was a teenage insomniac. I think it was a combination of stress, excitement, and physical discomfort. I had a good two hours sleep until about 12:30, then woke up and tossed and turned til about 01:10, then moved to our guest bedroom, read for a little then tossed and turned some more til 02:30, then I got up and went to watch television, which is usually a soporific for me if I am tired. After about 5 minutes of television I realised I really didn't want to watch anything, turned it off, closed my eyes, and woke up again at 06:30. So I didn't do too badly on total sleep, it's just that it was all a bit fragmented. I tried counting sheep, I tried my other counting technique which I used to use as a teenager to try and send myself to sleep, I tried meditating, nothing worked. I'd start imagining names for a baby, then I'd freak out at the hubris of it all, then I'd get tense because I had sharpish pain in my left side and I was worrying about an ectopic, then I'd feel damp between my legs and freak out that I was bleeding again...you get the picture.

This morning there was a little more blood first thing when I wiped, but it was brown and there wasn't much. Since then, nothing. I'm terrified to write that in case it's tempting the gremlins, but I've been truthful before on here so I might as well continue. The gremlins can't get all of us, all of the time. I'm having lots of abdominal aches and pains, but nothing so bad I'd want to take painkillers, yet. I've sort of decided to go for the next beta tomorrow, even though part of me doesn't want to know if it's bad, and because I know if we were losing one the numbers might not double. I've done the maths and either it/they implanted REALLY early (like day 5 or something) or the hcg was more than doubling every 48 hours (one of the many sets of sums I did in my head last night when I wasn't sleeping). So that seems good.

I feel very incoherent, I'm sorry. I am both excited and terrified. Aware of everything that can go wrong and excited about what the world might look like if it goes right. All those comments about early bleeding yesterday really helped me, as did a conversation with a real life friend-of-a-friend yesterday who told me she had bleeding throughout her IVF pregnancy, and of course it freaked her out every time, but that everything was great in the end. I do remember the article that mm mentioned in the comments yesterday. I thought it was from "A beautiful day" but I can't find it now. Anyway, I know that a bit of bleeding is relatively normal, but I also know that any bleeding is not a good sign. As Julie said once, it might not be a bad sign, but it's not a good sign either. So I remain, cautious but quite happy in between my freakouts. Thank you again.

My own personal soap opera

Beta is 251. My memory is that that is pretty high for day 14. So hopefully it's too high to be on the way down already?

Doctor says there are 2 possibilities: we're losing 1 of 2, or it's just a 'normal' early IVF pregnancy bleed. Of course presumably there is also the chance we are losing both, but the bleeding has slowed so I am a tiny bit hopeful. Nowhere near how I felt early yesterday morning (was it really only yesterday?), but not despairing, either. I can only imagine how overwhelmed with happiness I'd be with a number like that if I hadn't had any bleeding.

I have to call this afternoon to make an appointment for 2 weeks time for a scan. I'm allowed to go in for another beta “whenever I want”, although they don't usually do them. I think I might want.

12dp2dt: who knows what is going on

I did what you all said and retired to the sofa yesterday afternoon and evening, drank lots of water. Bleeding continued but never got as far as the pad, just there when I wiped. Overnight it seems to have stopped, what is there is, is brown. Unfortunately, however, the FRER this morning was only just positive. Not the kind of positive you have to squint to see, but definitely one you have to look at a few times to see if it's there. Probably about half the thickness of yesterday. Which means, that, sadly, option 3 from 2 posts ago was probably right. The beta today will be positive, but I am losing it. I feel like I'm being made to jump through all the hoops of infertility, one by one.

And it's ok, I'm not going to work today.

11dp2dt updated: That was a short dream

Since my earlier post I have watched some bad television, slept for two hours, had a lovely breakfast cooked by H, gone for walk to buy a wider range of peesticks, saved up the pee for a few hours, peed on two new sticks, seen a positive on both...and started bleeding. And I'm not spotting, I'm really bleeding. Not enough for a tampon, but enough that there is blood, red blood, every time I wipe. It must have started about 20 minutes before I went upstairs to pee on the new sticks. Life just sucks sometimes, doesn't it?

11dp2dt: In the blink of an eye

It seems that our local supermarket doesn't stock pregnancy tests. Or if they do they are behind the counter of the pharmaceutical area. But I couldn't see them there, and decided to be good and not ask the pharmacist. I did walk up and down the 'toiletries' aisle several times just to see if I could spot them, including once after I'd already paid for the rest of the shopping. I decided to take this as a sign, and went home carrying my minimal supper-related shopping. It will be good, I thought, to have another day of not knowing that things are negative.

H sent me to bed early last night as I was knackered after a restless night the night before. On the way to bed I remembered that over a year ago I bought a pack of 'clear blue easy' digital pregnancy tests. I also remember someone else saying that these aren't very sensitive, and, indeed, when I read the instruction leaflet it says that it works from the day that the period is expected. Unhelpful, I think, I'd better not use that as it won't be conclusive and I'll just have another day of wondering. And of course I don't really want to test, do I? I want that extra day of hoping.

I don't remember my dreams, but I do remember tossing and turning for a great deal of the night. At about 0350 I woke up pretty completely as I was feeling cramping again. Not the kind of period cramp that wakes me up with its stomach-churning pain, but cramping nonetheless. I had a little root around but of course it was dark so I couldn't tell what was on my finger, although it didn't feel sticky. In addition the birds were having a party in the trees outside our window, which was somewhat distracting. I lay there, willing myself to go back to sleep, but realising that I had to pee. So I had a debate in my head.

"You won't be able to go back to sleep anyway, you might as well get up and at least make sure you're not bleeding"

"But if I get up I'll definitely have to pee, and that will waste the FMU. So if I am going to test I must test as soon as I get up"

"But you don't really want to test! How will you feel if it's negative?"

"Let me think about that. Hmm. Ok, I'm looking at a positive test, how do I feel? Overjoyed, elated! I'm looking at a negative test, how do I feel? Disappointed, frustrated that the test isn't sensitive enough."

"Not despairing?"

"Let me check. No, not despairing. Not happy or anything, but resigned to wait til tomorrow for the real answer"

"You realise that it's 0415 in the morning don't you?

"Yes, what of it, I'm not sleeping anyway"

"But if you get up that means you have only had 4.5 hours sleep, you'll be a basket case"

"But it's Sunday tomorrow, I can sleep all day if I want to, and anyway, I've tried to go back to sleep and it's not happening."

At that point, I rolled out of bed, collected my water bottle and my book from the side of the bed and crept to the bathroom. Slowly opened the cupboard under the sink so it wouldn't creak too much, and picked up the box. I brought it downstairs. Went to our downstairs bathroom, and turned on the light. Wiped to check on the bleeding. No sign of any blood. I lent on the shelf above the boiler and stared at the pregnancy test box. And stared some more. It stared back, no answers from that particular piece of cardboard.

I decided to seize the moment. Ripped open the box, and the plastic cover to one stick, inserted the stick into the holder and peed away. Trembling, I put the holder down while I went to flush and to wash my hands. When I went to pick up the towel to dry my hands, there it was, looking at me. A sign that says: Pregnant.

Pregnant.

I checked carefully to make sure that I wasn't missing a 'not' somewhere. But no, it definitely says 'pregnant'. It's now 0430 and I decide that even so, I am going to wake H. I run back upstairs and gradually wake him. He wants to know why. I tell him. He asks me not to turn the light on, then he says, no do turn the light on, I want to see. We turn on the light and H grabs the test and stares at it, laughing. I'm shaking and nearly crying and holding his hand very tightly. We discuss everything it might mean. H believes the clinic when they say that these things aren't accurate so early. But I point out that it's false negatives rather than false positives that are the problem. False positives are rare. We agree that there are three possibilities:

1. I am pregnant
2. I am not pregnant and this is the 1 in 100 clear blue easy digitals which is giving a false positive reading
3. I am pregnant but the numbers aren't doubling or are fallling and the test tomorrow will be ambiguously low (say, below 50) and they won't be able to give us a definitive positive, and the pregnancy will fail

We agree that later today we will go out and buy another brand of tests just to check on option 2. And we agree that variations of option 3 won't leave us for several weeks, even if the numbers tomorrow are good, I will be anxious til the first scan, and then til the 12 week scan again. But we agree to be cautiously happy for the time being.

After more hugging and nearly-crying and laughing and shaking (mostly me) and smiling and hugging(him) I turn off the light and leave H to go back to sleep and come downstairs again to write this. I'm still bemused. I didn't expect anything so unequivocal. A positive within 30 seconds of finishing peeing. It's a good sign. I don't quite believe it yet, but I am happy. Scared, tired, anxious, elated, petrified, happy.

It's 0513. It's getting light and the birds have chilled out a bit. I'm going to find some old film on the television and see if it will send me to sleep. Not sure that it will work, but it's worth a try. I'm amazed that I am here, at this moment, at our kitchen table with a test that still says: "Pregnant" sitting next to me.

10dp2dt: A dream

I'm still not bleeding. I don't think I will now until things are decided (or hopefully, not bleed at all), I think that the PIO is doing its job. I do have a constant, well, I think you'd have to call it a feeling more than anything else, in my lower abdomen. It's not exactly cramping, it's more a fullness, a constant reminder that something is going on there. We'll see.

I'm less of a basket case than I was earlier in the week. I've realised that the prospect of starting to bleed early again was really, genuinely terrifying me. Once that barrier was over I got a bit slap-happy. I realised that I was in danger of believing that it must have worked. That the removal of my biggest fear for this cycle meant that I was back in that state of hopeless optimism that many of us were in during our first cycles. Why should anything bad happen now, haven't we solved a bunch of issues that came up in the last cycle?

Then I felt crampy again on Friday afternoon and remembered what it was like to be freaked out. But to be honest, I think I am scarily hopeful right now. I had an incredibly vivid dream last night. I dreamt I was bleeding, that it was all over. I had to go to the hospital to get checked out. It was one of those dreams where nothing works quite right - cars kept taking me to the wrong place, I couldn't find H anywhere. After some happenings that I can't remember, Dr Condescending handed me a colour magazine opened to a double page spread which outlined a long, very detailed, very small font explanation of what was going on - with lots of feedback loops etc. - it was all to do with progesterone metabolism and natural killer cells. The font looked like handwriting, but wasn't. (why I can remember so much about fonts in my dream, I have no idea). One embryo had implanted, setting off a reaction, which caused the bleeding but somehow enabled the other embryo to secretly implant. Although then the first one had implanted, too, as my beta (carefully written into the middle of this complex tract) was 240. I was to be admitted to hospital in order to manage the immune response I was having, and my bed had to be turned to the wall, which I thought was funny. Then they told me that if I went home and stayed home that would probably be better than staying in the hospital.

A bunch of other stuff happened, too, which is just a vague memory, but the dream was very real. I don't believe in dreams as 'signs' in any way - after all, last time I spent the night before I started bleeding dreaming that I was pregnant - but it was nice to have such a positive outcome to a dream that started badly.

My current positivity is the reason that I think I'm wanting to pee on a stick. I still have the fantasy of showing it to H, of that being how I tell him that we are pregnant. Of course, I still might not be, but somehow that doesn't seem as real right now. But I do have a realist part of me that is telling me not to pee, that it's better to have two more days of hope before I get the bad news. I keep thinking about how I get through next week if I am pregnant, alternating with knowing how hard it will be if I am not. I have a big conference to go to on Wednesday and Thursday in Germany, and either it will be a case of trying to give myself the PIO shot while I'm there, or it will be coping with the post-IVF bleed. I'd rather it was the first, funnily enough.

In the meantime, Vanessa has had some bad news from her cycle, please go and give her some love - although her site sometimes doesn't load, do keep trying.

H needs me to go to the supermarket to get some stuff for dinner. The question is, will I manage to avoid the peesticks?

9dp2dt: 1 day's reprieve

I'm not bleeding. I don't think I'm anywhere close to bleeding. Consequently I feel wonderful, which is probably just as stupid as how awful I was feeling the last two days. But I've decided to take my mood swings at face value and let them happen. Of course now I'm going to be even more devastated on Monday if we get bad news, but that's life (if we get that far, of course. Must keep saying that). I think I'd be pretty devastated if it's bad news on Monday anyway, so being in a good mood now won't make that much difference. It's amazing how pessimistic you can feel and still have Hope sitting in a corner of your brain, saying, "It might have worked, you know. Those pains, they were different than anything you've had before!"

Linda asked about why I bled last time at 8dp3dt. Good question. We should start by reminding ourselves of why we have to be given supplemental progesterone. At the beginning of IVF treatment, no one had any idea that this was required. Eventually they figured out that the disruption of the follicles during aspiration means that they do not go on to start their progesterone synthesis a day or so after ovulation in the way that they should. Although many women did get pregnant in those early days without progesterone supplementation, too many did not. Progesterone supplementation became the way to go. There is still much debate about how long it needs to be continued. Most studies show that you can stop after the luteal phase and get the same live birth rate as if the progesterone is continued throughout the first trimester because by then the follicles have recovered, are forming the corpus lutea that they should have become in the first place. Continuing progesterone support through the first trimester results in an increased rate of late miscarriage - i.e., the progesterone support is 'allowing' pregnancies that would otherwise have ended to continue.

Last time I used the progesterone suppositories rather than the PIO. At my clinic the suppositories are the standard treatment as much clinical evidence shows that there is no difference in clinical outcomes between PIO and intravaginal support, and most people prefer the suppositories to sticking themselves in the ass. Although, I have to say, I've read a lot of the papers on this and they are not exactly conclusive - plenty say that IM progesterone is better so I imagine that Dr Candour and team are partly going on published studies and partly on their own experience. They use anal suppositories here, and you do them at night, so you don't get any leakage. No side effects of smooth thighs and messed-up underwear. In addition, it is not true to say that you will not bleed while the progesterone continues. In one study, 67% of women bled before IM progesterone was discontinued (admittedly, at an average of 16.2 days after retrieval, so I am a bit wierd). Actually, recent work says that hcg might be better than progesterone support, but I guess it's too early for them to be switching.

However, since I bled at 8dp3dt on the suppositories, clearly something was wrong. I have a short luteal phase on my regular cycles - anywhere from 10-12 days, but averaging just under 11. That might indicate a progesterone problem, but my progesterone a week after ovulation was a "text book excellent" value of 59 when it was tested 15 months ago. So it's not the absolute level which is the problem. Apparently, though, everyone's body uses progesterone in different ways, probably due to genetic variability in the chemicals which metabolise progesterone, so testing the absolute level doesn't actually give you the answer. Dr Candour decided that PIO was the way to go, just to see if I was the one case in a million where it made a difference. So far he seems to be right.

That's enough science before breakfast. Onwards and upwards.

8dp2dt: 1 day from disaster?

You know, I'd forgotten how fucking dificult the two week wait is. I wonder if it's like childbirth. Not that I'm that well informed about childbirth, you understand, but I've been told that after you give birth you forget how awful the pain was. That this is 'nature's way' of ensuring that you are prepared to go through it again. Do you think the 2ww is the same? Of course, I remembered that it was shit, and I've posted on enough people's blogs to get regular reminders that it sucks, but I had honestly forgotten just how unbelievably stressful and anxiety-making it was.

As you can tell, I'm a basket case. I am managing to hold down my job because it's a good distraction mechanism from all the pain, but it's not distracting enough that every time I feel a cramp, I don't freak out. Even though I have never started bleeding on day 10 of the luteal phase before, I am still rushing to the bathroom every 2 hours to check that there is no blood. So far there is no blood. This morning there were no cramps, but this afternoon they are back again (I document this, you understand, for my future sanity should I have to do this again. Last time I was scarily slapdash about recording every symptom). Luckily, so far, they are not dull, achey period-y pains, but more sharp cramps, often around the ovaries. So I am not despairing yet, although I was earlier this afternoon when I thought I felt the onset of achiness. So I don't know what's happening, I just don't know.

So my first battle is to wake up tomorrow and not find blood on the toilet paper. That would be a little mini-victory. And then I guess the second mini-victory would be to do the same on Saturday. And then Sunday, and Monday. I have never had a luteal phase of longer than 12 days before, so being blood-free until Monday will be a major win if we get that far.

If we get that far, I am tempted to pee on a stick over the weekend. By Sunday it will be 11dp2dt and we should be able to see something if there is anything. However, H has asked me not to test. He wants to go with what the doctors say, which is that urine tests are unreliable this early, and blood tests are the only way to go. I know that Suz, for one, might agree with him. He knows that if it's negative I'll freak out, and he wants me to stay positive as long as possible. I don't know. I don't know if I can last that long. I don't currently have any peesticks at home, except for maybe an old clearblue digital, but I know that that one is not accurate enough to use this early, so I'll have to go shopping before I can indulge myself. Part of me doesn't want to find out, however - the part that wants a pregnancy to stay a possibility for as long as possible. That might mean just until tomorrow morning, or it might mean until Monday. Or, if I'm really, really lucky, it might go on longer than that.

It goes without saying, but I will say it anyway, that you are all wonderful and I honestly can't imagine doing this without you. Thank you so much for all the support.

7dp2dt: 9 days

I'm grumpy. I woke up grumpy. I'm grumpy because my dreams are filled with anxiety. Anxiety is manifesting itself in my dreams in a way that I can't remember once I wake, but it leaves me with residual grumpiness that isn't much fun. In reality, I'm terrified.

Last time, I bled on the 11th day after retrieval. The equivalent day this time would be Friday of this week. I've been having vague cramping since Monday. I know that this can be the progesterone, and I know that it can be the uterus stretching, or the ovaries shrinking back to normal size, or just my peritoneal cavity having a party, but it makes me think of last time. Of how I felt on that Monday evening, feeling cramps and just knowing that the cycle was over. This has been compounded this morning by relief from my post-transfer constipation. Yes I've been eating lots of fibre and drinking lots of water, but the same thing happened around the same time last time. So suffice it to say, I am not feeling optimistic. I'm trying to send warm loving thoughts to those embryos, but then I think, well, they're probably dead by now anyway, so what's the point. I suck at all that visualisation stuff, anyway, my brain always moves onto something else quickly, it's hard for me to keep it still.

I did something stupid this week which didn't help the grumpiness. Ages ago I said yes when asked to sit on a panel of senior women for an internal conference. This Monday was the conference. As each woman introduced herself, she said: I'm X, I have three children, who are 9, 7, and 4, I work in blank, I've been on a part time programme since Y, and am delighted to be here. I was the only one on the panel with no children. Having children and working was not the official topic of the panel, but it certainly felt that way. It didn't end with the introductions, either. People talked about their maternity leave, and how progression through the company felt different when you've got a child, and blah and blah and blahdiblah. It was awful. At the end the audience said thank you so much for coming, and we all got a bottle of champagne, and then I went back to my office and cried.

It's just so hard not being able to do anything to help this to work. It's up to my body and those embryos to figure out if they are a good fit. And there's nothing I can do about it. There isn't a single minute of the day (or night, apparently) when I don't think about it. But it isn't up to me. I wasn't going to type that I just want to get through to the blood test without bleeding, because I did that last time and it didn't work. But I do. I want to get through to that blood test and out the other side. But what I want has nothing to do with it.

3dp2dt, 6 weird things

Apologies to those of you who tagged me for this, I was saving it for this difficult period, where there is no cycle drama to post about and "a week on Monday" feels like a life sentence.

Speaking of life sentences, I've been watching, with fascinated horror, the occasional episode of "Test Tube Babies" on Discovery home and health. It's a UK programme, enjoyably amateurish with an incredibly irritating voice over. Each episode follows one couple going through an IVF cycle and one couple who are about to give birth after IVF. The cycle stories mostly seem to end badly, with couples getting a negative result. All the birth stories are positive, I just can't relate to them so I mostly channel hop while that bit is on. Anyway, the point was that the culmination of the cycle bit is that all the couples are filmed at the moment of calling the clinic or being called with the results. I cannot imagine getting that news with a camera in my face. And of course they all break down, with tears of joy one way, or tears of despair the other. They all seem to get the news as a couple. Maybe that's in their contract. I'm still fretting over how I'm going to figure out how to get the news on Monday 15th, with continuing to act like a professional and pay attention to the all-day review meeting I'm supposed to be in. So far my best idea is to get the clinic to call H, and he will figure out how to get the news to me. I don't want the news while I'm at work, but will I be able to wait? And then I kick myself for even believing we could get as far as Monday 15th and still have hope. And then I kick myself for not being more optimistic. Gosh this is fun, isn't it!

Anyway, I promised six wierd things. This was really hard.

1. I am obsessive about accurate writing and, in particular, punctuation. You don't see it on here because I type these posts so fast that sometimes errors get through, but in real life I am a terror. So much so that at a recent team kick-off, when asked about my most annoying habit, a colleague volunteered my continual proof-reading as something that drives him bananas. I dislike errors so much that I can't read some blogs because their owners don't spell or punctuate well. I know it's bad, but it just upsets me so much it's not worth it. And don't even get me started about the boards...

2. Punctuality. I am not punctual, but being late really makes me tense and upset. I cannot figure out how I manage to combine these two traits and not drive both myself and my husband insane. Well, I do drive my husband pretty much insane, but I somehow potter around getting ready for some event with no sense of impending doom as the time of said event starting gets ever closer. This is despite, or, I guess, because of, having spent my childhood being tense because my parents were ALWAYS late for any school event. I do,  however, have a good sense of just how late I can cut it and still make that train/plane. I've never yet missed a plane (touch wood).

3. I drink a lot of water. Really a lot. To the extent that I got myself tested for diabetes, as constant thirst is one of the symptoms of pre-diabetes. But I don't have diabetes, I'm just thirsty. As are my father, my aunt, and my brother. We must have a thirstiness gene. This has the advantage that I have a well-trained bladder. Don't get me wrong, I pee a lot, but I can also drink a lot in between peeing. So lying on a gurney after embryo transfer holds no terrors for me.

4. I am overly sensitive to being made a fool of. Some might describe it as having no sense of humour. This is combined with a strong ability to mock others. Which isn't fair really. As an example, a team played an april fool on me last year where they tried to persuade me that an absent team member had been drinking too much for ages. I didn't believe them, and kept telling them to raise it with him. Then he walked in and they all cried: "April Fool!" I burst into tears. Yeah. Made them all feel shitty. I was relieved that April Fool's day this year fell on a Saturday.

5. As a child, I lied a lot. I lied mostly because I wanted to fit in. So, for example, if a friend told me that her brother played trombone, I'd say: "Mine too!" You can see how that got me into trouble. But somehow I always continued to insist I wasn't lying. This had the unfortunate effect that my mother didn't believe me when I was telling the truth, like the time the ink got on the ceiling of our dining room. I honestly didn't do it!

6. I have an incredibly low boredom threshold. I have to have noise around me. When I walk into the house I turn on the television. When working I have my itunes playing. When I start to work I compulsively check my email or blogs before I can get started, and then I get distracted while working and do something else. This means that I always work right up to a deadline. I get stuff done, but with much more last minute angst than is strictly necessary. My shrink thought it was to do with me being frightened of how powerful I'd be if I let myself concentrate. Hmm.

Hope those are wierd enough. Everyone else seems to be on to the next meme now, so I won't tag anyone. Thanks for the moments of pause you gave me.

Three of five makes six

Can't get over my borg-like naming structure for these posts. It will persist for this post, then I'll have to retire it. Herewith the wrap up post with the bits I couldn't bring myself to type.

Heleen asks: why are we doing PIO?
Because last time I bled at 8dp3dt which of course is much too early for anything to be successful. Although the clinical evidence suggests that there is, in the general IVF population, no difference between the suppositories and PIO, Dr Candour felt that I might be the one patient in a million to whom it makes a difference. This despite my post-ovulation progesterone rating of 59 ("textbook excellent according to Dr C) when it was tested on a natural cycle over a year ago. Apparently everyone's system responds differently to progesterone and so the numbers don't always tell the whole story. Anyway, if I post here next Friday saying I'm bleeding, we'll all know that that particular experiment didn't pay off.

Lots of people ask: what happened to the other three embryos?
All three were frozen yesterday. There was one other good four cell, a good three cell, and a dark and miserable looking "average (arrow down)" three cell. They froze all three even though that last one clearly isn't making babies any time soon. That means we now have six frozen, four of which there is some hope for. Which is ok.

I mentioned "if it's twin boys" a while ago...
I mentioned this as something that would freak me out, not my dream scenario. My dream scenario, despite all I know about how difficult twin pregnancies are, not to mention looking after twins, is boy/girl twins. Because then I wouldn't have to worry about getting pregnant again. I know, first of all, that I am tempting fate, and I know that wishing for twins is stupid because of how badly things can go wrong, and how difficult it is to cope when they are born. But it's all so unreal that right now, hoping for it doesn't seem too scary.

If it's twin boys, we'll just have to wait and see what we'd do. H would be fine with it, but like many of you, I have always dreamed of my daughter. In this generation of cousins, both my brothers have boys, and H's brother has two boys, so the whole family could do with a bit of balance. Twin girls? I'll have to negotiate with H. A singleton of either gender? We'll at least attempt to use the embicicles. But you know, it's all very hypothetical at this point.

How much time am I taking off work?
Despite one of my colleagues telling me that she took off the whole IVF month both times she did successfully did IVF, I am off this week, then going back on Monday. I know there is no evidence that working/not working affects chances, but my job is pretty full-on. Although of course there are others in this community with similar kinds of stressful jobs, who've got pregnant so I know I am not alone. My main concerns right now, are,
(i) the guilt at not being at work today and tomorrow. I feel fine, with just a bit of twinging. I am doing mild bits of work from home, but that's a far cry from what I'd be doing if I was showing up. My people are all ok without me, but it's hard to hear what they're handling and not feel like I should be there to support them.
(ii) how I cope the day we get our beta. It's scheduled for 15 May, which is a Monday. I'm supposed to be all day in a review committee, I can't just duck out as I did last time I got a negative result. We can't get it done on Sunday as they don't get blood results on Sundays from their lab. I think I'll have to POAS on Sunday at the latest, assuming, of course, that I dont' just start bleeding again. That would really suck. Ha.

I'm not feeling optimistic, but I'm not feeling pessimistic either. Everyone at the clinic yesterday kept telling me that things looked good, that I should feel happy. And that it would make a difference if I did feel happy. I think they were sneakily 'just relax'ing me. Isn't that immoral of a clinic to spin that line? If you don't get pregnant, it's nothing to do with us, it's that you weren't happy enough. Bastards.

Speaking of which, I'm going to write to Dr Candour to ask if I should prepare to go back on zoladex if we get a negative. Don't want the endo to grow, after all. Nothing wrong with being prepared.

Two times four

We transferred two good four cells at 1130 this morning. Dr casual did the transfer. He wasn't as good as Dr Condescending. Decidedly cack-handed with the speculum, but at least he was nice about it. The nurses stood in between me and the screen, so I saw nothing until it was over, but H had a good view. At the end they showed us the bright light of the liquid that carried our embryos, high up in my uterus. Let's hope they know what to do now they're there.

We were not allowed to transfer three. Dr Candour had ruled overnight that we did not have the “extenuating circumstances” that would be required by the HFEA to allow us to transfer three.

The two that we did get to transfer were both graded “good”. One was close to perfect. No fragmentation, cells in the right orientation to each other, generally quite impressive. I'm calling it Buffy. The other was a little less good, although the embryologist insisted it had every chance of making good. Around 5% fragmentation, calls looking a bit clumpy. I've named it Faith. When I finally get back on a computer I will put in some links so that those of you not well-schooled in the buffyverse can have some sense of what I'm going on about. H wanted to name them Bill and Ben (after the flowerpot men, of whom I'm 90% certain you've never heard), but I've unilaterally decided that that is a failure of the imagination and I don't want twin boys, after all.

Of course all that is out of my hands now. We have what we have. Let's hope they find their new environmant nice and cushy.

PS H did my PIO shot this morning and it didn't hurt at all! Any advice on how to do them myself much appreciated. I can't figure out how you get the angle right.

Five of nine

Just got the fertilisation report. To say I am disappointed would be an understatement. Although I knew that every cycle is different, I had not expected us to go from 100% fertilisation last time, to 55% this time. My hopes of having enough in the freezer to try again without a fresh cycle are now dashed. I know I should be grateful, but I'm sad.

The embryologist was really sweet. We had a long discussion about day 2 versus day 3 transfer. He told me that their stats are equivalent, and that they think they can grade the embryos pretty well on day 4 given the orientation of the cells, fragmentation, etc. He says freezing works better earlier, too. So he's persuaded us to go for day 2. He's also (at my request) going to talk to the docs about whether they will let us transfer 3 - which legally in the UK they can't do with a woman under 40 unless there are extenuating circumstances.

He could sense that I was really disappointed, and kept saying: “you should be feeling great, this is within the normal range for an IVF cycle, please don't be discouraged.” It was very kind but hasn't lifted me out of my discouragement.

I've been sleeping a lot since we got home yesterday, apart from going to the clinic early this morning so the nurse could do our PIO shot. They are legally not allowed to teach H how to do it in case something goes wrong, but the nurse this morning said she'd just talk through what she was doing very, very slowly and if H wanted to listen that was ok with her. Funny that a UK clinic should be so sensitive about this when US clinics send you guys home with instructions.

H is working from home and is hogging the broadband, hence my need to post from the blackberry. Thanks for all the good wishes. Transfer tomorrow.

Nine

They got nine. I have to confess to being a bit disappointed, but H keeps telling me that we should be thrilled with getting 50% more than last time. I'm also feeling much less pain than last time, I guess they didn't have to poke me around so much internally. We're just waiting now to see an embryologist to discuss whether we'll do a day 2 or day 3 transfer. I feel strangely deflated - emotionally rather than physically. Perhaps I wanted more drama?