OTD

My head was humming with so many thoughts I thought it might actually explode. That on top of a banging headache didn't make for a very successful night's sleep. I woke up every hour and at 5am I could hold my pee no longer. Jon and I dragged ourselves, bleary-eyed into the bathroom and I urinated into a plastic cup. Three minutes and two negative tests later and we were back in bed, devastated and contemplating what what do next. I suggested I'd like to get away for a week on a beach, somewhere hot, anywhere but here would be preferable right now. I cried, I could tell Jon wanted to cry too but he was trying to be brave for me. The tests confirmed the inevitable, the progesterone hadn't done it's job and I'd started bleeding yesterday afternoon; while I was prepared for the worst, I was still clinging on to the tiniest glimmer of hope. We'd already spent most of last night in tears so it was almost a relief to put us out of our misery, our only NHS cycle had failed so we can finally put this to bed and start dealing with life without IVF.

I'd taken the last two days off work as I'd been feeling shitty, it's that all-too-familiar pre-festive bug that you usually get when you work and party too hard in the run up to Christmas. It's a real kick in the teeth as I'd avoided all three of my Christmas parties, hadn't touched a drop of alcohol in six weeks and had been eating healthily. I was now glad of the two days at home as on top of feeling like crap physically, I now have to deal with the emotional agony of our IVF failure. It f***ing hurts.

Unfortunately, Jon had to go to work this morning so I was left at home alone with my thoughts. Messages from friends came through on my phone, all wanting to know how it had gone. While I was grateful for the outpouring of love jumping out from the screen, I soon got tired and upset with trying to refashion the same unfortunate reply. I started to copy and paste the response message which, if you know me, is something I would never usually do. I just wanted to let everyone know as quickly as possible without having to ponder over it. At that moment, I felt a slight pang of regret that we'd told so many of our close friends about the IVF treatment, I did however, appreciate the love and support.

One of the hardest things I had to do was tell my mother, I could tell she was beyond heartbroken for us. Since my father's death (and years before), she's longed for a grandchild and I'd really hoped that we would be able to make this dream possible, not only for myself and Jon, but for her and Jon's parents too.

 After festering in bed all morning, I decided to be more proactive with my afternoon; I washed my hair with nice smelling shampoo, drank a strong coffee and painted my nails - all things that had been part of my self-imposed prohibition. The original plan was for me to travel up to Norfolk to stay with my Mum for a couple of days and to attend a wedding as her plus one. I couldn't bear the thought of being without Jon tonight or driving on my own while I was feeling so dreadful, so Jon returned home early, we packed up the car and drove the three hour journey to the motherland together.

Of course there were tears all round, but sometimes there's nothing better than a big Mama hug.

The Two Week Wait

Today marks the halfway point of my 2ww before I find out if I'm with child for the first time ever. While I'd like to report I've been blooming and a joy to be around, this would be a barefaced lie. It's been mental torture and the progesterone supplements I've been prescribed are HELL.

Progesterone, often called 'the pregnancy hormone' (or horror moan as I've renamed it), is produced by ones ovaries after ovulation and it's job is to prepare the lining of the uterus for implantation. Ladies going through assisted reproduction treatments are prescribed progesterone supplements because the egg retrieval process removes cells that would normally create progesterone. The supplements, usually in pessary form, are needed to thicken the lining so the embryo will hopefully implant and grow.

I started taking progesterone pessaries (1 x 400mg Cyclogest, morning and night) from the day of my EC and the next day I was already feeling unsettled. This might me a little TMI for some so feel free to skip this paragraph, but pessaries are messy little buggers and I'd been using the back door to try and limit the pants puddle. Unfortunately this has played havoc with my stomach and the pain from trapped wind and bloating has been excruciating at times. To cut a revolting story short, I’ve tried alternating but now I've had to switch to using solely the front door which has relieved my symptoms a little, although creates a lot more mess. It's the lesser of two evils, though for me it's a close call. The great pessary debate is something that's always discussed within the #ttc community online but ultimately it comes down to personal preference. While there are pluses and minuses for both arguments, I think you just have to suck it (or stick it in) and see, there is no right or wrong orifice!

The other twisted and perverse thing about progesterone is that the side effects mimic early pregnancy symptoms. So far I've experienced intense cramping which is similar to period pain so I'm on constant knicker watch, bloated tummy, sore boobs and the one that tops the rest - thrush. This really is not convenient when you're trying to shove pointy, waxy bullets through an area that feels like a furnace, shoot me now.

This has all been a bit of a head f**k, but I've also had some news from a friend which has quashed my already waning positivity. For the last few weeks I've been in regular contact with a couple of ladies going through the 2ww around the same time as me. While this is good thing because it really is a massive support to be able to vent about symptoms with women who know, it's also really sad when the first one to test gets a BFN. Unfortunately, three days ago, this is what happened to my friend Sarah, though she had her suspicions a few days before. You have all these ideas that we're all going to get our BFPs and we're going to go on to be pregnancy buddies but then reality kicks in - this might not work. My other pal, Vicky, is due to test the day before me so I have everything crossed for her. This process really is torture.

So apart from emotional trauma and pessary issues what have I been up to during my 2ww? I've actually been trying to keep things as normal as possible. I took the day off after transfer and went for my third acupuncture appointment in Kingston, Victoria focused on blood flow this time and I nearly drifted off to sleep during the Zita West meditation. I felt so floaty after my session, I decided I was in the mood to do a little bit of shopping and even allowed myself to feel a little bit festive (very unlike me!). The next day (after feeling guilty about over doing it walking round the shops) I went back to work, partly because I wanted to get back to normality so my mind didn't implode but mainly because I had no holiday left.

Last weekend we bought a Christmas tree and decorated the house, which is very early for us! I enjoyed a lovely (alcohol free) dinner with friends at Côte in Wimbledon which was a welcome distraction from symptom checking and the negative thoughts that have started to creep into my head. Over the last couple of days I've been analysing every twinge, cramp or peculiar feeling as my period is due any day now and I've started to go into panic mode; rushing to the loo to check everything is in order every five minutes. Poor Jon must be really fed up with me now as the more anxious I've been getting, the more clingy I've become; my need for cuddles extreme! I've also been having completely irrational thoughts, such as thinking my bloated tummy is crushing the embryo. What fun!

One week until test day.

Embryo Transfer

Wednesday 6th December 2017

King's Fertility
King's College Hospital, London

I am officially PUPO! This is the closest I've ever come to being pregnant (as far as I know) and I'm not going to lie, it makes me feel a little warm inside. Initially, I was concerned about the two-day transfer as I'd not heard of this before, everyone talks about 3dt or a 5dt but never a 2dt. Why did they want to put it back so early? The reason, we found out during the transfer, was because we only had one egg and the best place for it to continue to fertilise and grow is back in the uterus. If you have more eggs to play with, they will try and nurture them in the lab until day five as they say you have more chance of pregnancy success with a blastocyst. The embryologists can also learn more about the quality of the embryo if it makes it to this stage. I guess they didn't want to risk losing my egg in a petri dish so decided to put it back where nature intended.

For me, the transfer itself was the least stressful stage of this process. I think I was so happy to have made it this far, I was glowing and couldn't wait for our embryo to be back where it belonged - I was even belting out Queen songs on the way in the car! Mr B on the other hand, did not find this part enjoyable at all. After a stressful wait to get into the tiniest hospital car park, I could feel the tension in our cubicle as we were delayed another hour on the ward at King's College Hospital. The nurses seemed a little disorganised and in a muddle about who was supposed to be going into theatre next which only added to his angst. Jon was also quite emotional which I think surprised him (and me!), he was really suffering in the run up to our transfer. I was just keen to get on with things as I had a full bladder that was getting extremely uncomfortable.

Eventually, after much confusion, we were called into the theatre room. I was surprisingly nonchalant as I clumsily climbed onto the bed and put my legs into the stirrups. It felt like I was in this graceless position with my nethers on show to the whole room for an awfully long time while the consultant went through the procedure, but she did make everything as relaxed as possible for both of us and I felt an incredible calmness. There was a screen on the wall where we could see live images of our embryo in the petri dish in the lab next door, she told us that it looked good (four equally divided cells) for a two-day embryo with little fragmentation. Both of us were completely overwhelmed at this point as reality sunk in that we had made this microscopic seed (with the help of a little bit of science) and it could potentially grow into our very own human. We watched the little dot being sucked up into what looked like a long pipette type receptacle and and a few seconds later, the embryologist emerged from the lab carefully holding the catheter containing our embryo.

I was expecting to find the procedure as uncomfortable as the trial embryo transfer I had experienced a few weeks ago, but I hardly felt a thing as they passed the tube through my cervix and placed the seed into its new home. I knew it was silly but I still asked the consultant if there was any danger of it falling out, to which she said, think of it as a sesame seed stuck in a peanut butter sandwich! After we watched the embryologist check the catheter under the microscope to check it hadn't gotten stuck, we were given the all clear to go.

As soon as we were back in our cubicle, Jon was overcome with emotion and it was a really poignant and touching moment. I was just grinning like a Cheshire cat who desperately needed to pee!

On the way home we stopped at Maccy D's, it's an old wives tale that the salt on McDonald's fries help implantation and some women swear by it. I have no idea how this superstition is supposed to work but do I care? No, it was guilt-free excuse to visit the golden arches if nothing else!

Egg News

I've been sick with nerves all morning while waiting for the call from Jon. He's just spoken to the embryologist and...

Our precious little egg has fertilised!

Another hurdle crossed. Another box ticked. Another stage completed. How we've ever got this far is beyond belief, but we're here and I've been called in to King's for transfer tomorrow. Hang on a minute...

Tomorrow?

Egg Collection

Monday 4th December 2017
Kingston ACU
Kingston Hospital, London

I was trying not to stress while we were sitting for 50 minutes in rush hour traffic on the way to Kingston Hospital this morning. Luckily we'd left plenty of time to tackle the short 4.3 mile drive and we still arrived at the ACU on time. I decided to listen to my Mindful IVF app whilst we were in the waiting room, to try and divert my thoughts from the upcoming procedure to... well anything else really. We'd had a really tough couple of days, it was difficult to take our minds off the upcoming hurdles that we were facing this week, no matter how hard we'd tried to keep busy. My mum came down for the weekend and went to see Paddington 2 at the cinema, it was good to absorb ourselves in a charming CG world and away from reality for a couple of hours.

Five minutes into focusing on my breathing, we were called into the recovery ward where we met a nurse called Hayley. I was first up (again) so I was the only patient on the ward for twenty minutes or so. Jon helped me change into the flattering hospital gown, fumbling with the ties as usual, and we were greeted by the consultant Mr Tom Brooker. He was overly zealous but reassuring as he made sure we were happy with what would happen during the impending procedure. It's a minor op which involves a needle being passed through the vaginal wall and into the ovary to retrieve the egg. The anaesthetist then did his rounds and of course he was charming, anaesthetists really are the loveliest people on the planet!

Half an hour after I'd walked into the theatre room, I was back on the ward and as I started to regain consciousness, I started to feel groggy and restless. I wanted to know where my husband was and the nurse gently informed me that he was already gone. He was on his very own Challenge Anneka type mission with our silver box, which could only mean one thing... they managed to retrieve an egg! Unbeknown to me, I had already had a totally gibberish conversion with him before he left and I had specifically asked him to take a photo of the box on the train! I have no recollection of seeing him, nevermind any chat, but he is a good husband and he duly obliged!

My euphoric state lasted a few short minutes before I was back into panic mode again. What if he couldn't produce the goods on the day? I thought about texting him but decided against it as it probably wouldn't help his pre-performance nerves.

The IVF process is hard for partners, they largely get overlooked as it's mostly all about the lady. Until now. It's a huge chunk of pressure to place on a man, if he gets stage fright, the whole cycle fails. I started to think that we should have thought about freezing some sperm as back up in case he fluffs his lines. Having proved I was recovering nicely from the sedation by drinking adequate amounts of water and eating a dry biscuit, I was now back in the waiting room watching my phone in anticipation of a call from the boy. It was an agonising wait and one by the one the other ladies started trickling back in from the ward, looking spaced out and as equally anxious.

Two hours after my egg collection I finally received a message saying all was well and he was waiting for the analysis before he was allowed to leave. I was laughing out loud at this text exchange, much to the bafflement of the other women in the room, it felt really good to smile again.

Around forty-five minutes after that text conversation, he called to say he was on his way back to the hospital to collect me. The semen analysis showed that he had super duper swimmers, at least one one of us is working perfectly! The relief I felt at that moment was immense, after all the diagnoses and disappointments, everything had gone as well as we'd possibly hoped today and I couldn't wait to give my boy a massive cuddle. I know people talk about proverbial roller coasters but our experience of IVF so far has certainly been just that - a bloody high one. We've done all we can and we now have an agonising wait for a phone call from the embryologist in the morning to hear if our egg has made it through the night. Come on little one!

Scan Two

Friday 1st December 2017
Kingston ACU
Kingston Hospital, London

Today has been one of the toughest days I've had to get through since we said goodbye to my darling Dad exactly two years ago.

Alongside the sadness that comes with every anniversary, I was feeling calm but not too expectant as we once again got in the car to go to the hospital for another follicle monitoring scan. The initial bloating I had experienced 5-6 days ago had now pretty much subsided and I had expressed my concerns to Jon about the lack of discomfort a couple of days previously. Surely I should feel like my ovaries were ready to explode after seven days of stimulation injections? Luckily for Jon, I've had no manic outbursts, although part of me wished I had felt in the mood to throw a few pans around - at least I'd have some indication that the hormones were working.

I've always had a realistic outlook on life and today was no different, we can't change the situation and it's completely out of our hands. The inner control freak in me tried to remember this as I was laying on the bed with an ultrasound probe up my noo noo. I could feel my hopes slowly depleting the longer I laid there, the nurse was certainly having a good look around, I was starting to wonder if she could find anything at all. Eventually she said she was going to get the doctor to get a second opinion, as was always the case with a low follicle count. There, she had said it.

It seemed like an eternity before they both returned, but hardly any time for the doctor to confirm there was only one possible plan going forward. There was one lonely follicle which was considered 'ready' in my right ovary, the rest (maybe two or three) were non-runners, too small and extremely unlikely to grow to maturity, even if I kept up with the stim injections. I was devastated.

In the time it took me to re-robe reality had sunk in and I was fighting back tears. I was trying to keep it together so I could remember everything the nurse was telling me, Jon held my hand as he could see I was getting increasingly distressed and by the time we had sat down, I was inconsolable. The nurse was asking me questions but eventually offered to just talk so I could compose myself. We were told the plan was to bring egg collection forward to Monday, if we leave it any longer the one ripe follicle could become over-mature and we could lose it.

Back the waiting room I became more aware of all the couples who were a similar age to us, I was wondering if they'd had more promising news than we'd just been dealt. Regardless of their situations, everyone was there for the same reason, clutching their bags of medication and looking decidedly anxious. Thankfully, after a short wait we were called back in to see the doctor to go through the protocol for the weekend. The plan is to carry on today as we have been; three Suprecur nasal sprays and two Menopur injections. Tomorrow night, the stim injections will be replaced by a trigger injection (hCG) which has to be administered exactly 36 hours before egg collection. This induces the final maturation of the egg inside the follicle, if indeed there is one. I'm even starting to have doubts about that.

As we were leaving the hospital, we passed a lady pushing twins in a buggy, it was almost too much to bear. By the time we got to the car I was sobbing and I don't think anyone could've said anything to make me feel any better at that point. We drove to a car park in Richmond Park so we could have a chat (and another good cry). I wanted to go home and curl up in a ball on the sofa but I came to the conclusion that going into work and keeping busy would be the best option. I'm glad I made the call to be around people and not restrict myself to my own thoughts today, I'm definitely feeling a smidge more positive tonight.

So this is the hand we've been dealt. I'm completely heartbroken there will be no frozen embryos to have another shot if this one fails. This is it.

Aside from myself and Jon, the other person I'm really feeling for today is my Mum. Not only is she mourning her husband, I've just had to tell her our dreadful news. It has crossed my mind that we might not ever be able to make her a Nanna. For that, I feel awful.