January Blues

I'm starting to feel a little more like my old self after this latest blow. I've been through this now familiar cycle of being knocked down and then having to pick myself up again a few times recently and quite frankly it's draining, but I'm getting stronger. Some days are still really tough where I can't even look at a child without being sad, but there are definitely more positive days emerging. I've got so much support which I'm hugely thankful for, not only from family and friends, but from my fellow IVF ladies who have reached out to me and offered advice and love.

I'm a shy person and I sometimes struggle in unfamiliar social situations, some people even think I'm standoffish when they first meet me because I'm uncomfortable in new situations. One of my best friends even said she thought I was a 'complete bitch' when she first met me - a couple of days later (and a few drinks down) we were having the best time together during freshers week! Eighteen years down the line and my friendship with Zoe is one of my most treasured. Last weekend I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and I had lunch with a new friend I met at an Endometriosis group back in September. Tijen has also just gone through her first round of IVF and has low AMH levels too. It was good to discuss our health and fertility issues in a more comfortable and relaxed environment and get to know a little about her too, although the people on the next table probably didn't appreciate the specifics! The conclusion we came to was that introspectively we still feel young, a lot younger than our middle(ish) thirties. A couple of years ago we would never have believed we'd be in the situations we're in now, but similar to myself, she wasn't ready to have children in her twenties or maybe even five years ago. Like me, she's only recently been diagnosed with endometriosis, so she's still getting to grips with that side of things on top of tackling the repercussions. I still can't help but feel anger towards the doctors who have missed diagnosing me over the years; I can honestly say that if we'd been aware of my potential fertility issues a few years earlier, we most definitely would have started this journey sooner, now I just feel like it's getting too late.

I've recently found the strength to start looking into our next options and I've been thinking about egg donation a lot more. It's definitely something I'm slowly coming round to, though I would say I'm still not one hundred percent there yet. Some days I think it's the answer to all our problems, others I get really upset because I'm still clinging onto the hope that one day I'll have a biological child of my own. Last week, a colleague of mine told me completely out of the blue that she dreamt I was pregnant with twins! She knows nothing of our IVF escapades so hopefully it's a premonition and not a pipe dream.

This week, I've started to get back on the healthy living bandwagon. I've been back to the gym, kicked the caffeine, cut down on alcohol and started taking Ubiquinol supplements. These massive red capsules (according to 'It Starts with the Egg') are a more absorbable form of CoQ10 and are proven to help with egg quality if taken for at least three to four months - the time it takes for an egg to develop. I'm now taking quite a rainbow selection of supplements to improve my health; vitamin D, selenium, a prenatal, turmeric and now Ubiquinol. If we are to have another shot at IVF with my own eggs, I feel I need to be more prepared. Last time, I went into it completely blind.

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.

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.