Follow-up

Tuesday 9th January 2018
Kingston ACU
Kingston Hospital, London

It's been nearly three weeks since our BFN. I've been feeling a bit more positive about things over the last few days, I guess that's because the acute agony we suffered post IVF is becoming a lousy memory that we can now slowly move on from. I won't say it's been easy - I've had some really low days over Christmas and New Year - but it's definitely becoming less painful. Until today.

The day didn't start too well when we arrived at Kingston Hospital and the car park was rammed as usual. After driving round for 15 minutes and getting increasingly more stressed with the other frustrated drivers, I decided to head in to our appointment on my own. I hadn't been in the waiting room more than five minutes before I was called in, typically the one day I was hoping they were running late. Sitting there feeling extremely vulnerable, the consultant went through all my blood tests and scans over the past few months and told me the results were extremely disappointing for someone of my age (no shit!). She told me I was still young in terms of IVF years but my AMH levels were as low she'd expect to find in someone in their late 40's, someone 10 years older. She asked if there was a history of early menopause in my family, to which I replied there was; Mum was 45 when she went through 'le change'. Although it's been discussed between my mother and I, especially recently, I hadn't really considered that I might have already entered perimenopause. I had hoped unrealistically that it wasn't heritable.

My AMH and FSH levels have been fluctuating over the last few months so she advised that it might not be worth us spending thousands of pounds on another round of IVF, I could get another month like the last where there was pretty much zero response from my ovaries. By this point, I was close to tears so I was relieved when Jon interrupted the delicate conversation about my failing female bits and asked to join us on speaker phone (still no luck with the car park).

Because they had already given me the maximum allowed dose of stims (Menopur 450IU), the consultant said there's not a whole lot they could change if we were to try again with another round. They don't advise to inject that amount of hormones for longer than a few days; it's not good for anyone, let alone someone of my diminutive stature and especially someone with a history of endometriosis. She suggested leaving my body to recover for a few weeks and get my bloods tested again when we felt ready to take the next step, if indeed there is to be one. She mentioned that if we were to try again, using donor eggs might give us more of a chance. We have already talked about this as a possibility but my head isn't quite there yet, I'm not done with grieving my own fertility and I'm not sure I'm ready to give up on my crappy eggs. We have a lot to talk about but unfortunately, unless we have a miracle (and I realise they do happen!) it's looking highly unlikely I'll ever be a biological mother.

After stopping for the obligatory post-appointment sob in Petersham Car Park, I dropped Jon off in Richmond and made my way into work. I felt numb and mentally exhausted and wanted to be anywhere in the world than sitting at my desk putting on a brave face. I pushed through the day and when I got home I had a big cuddle from Jon followed by a very large Gin and Tonic.