There’s a Party in my Pants!

Personally, I’m very disappointed that no one has told me about it before. I’ve blithely gone through life without knowing the feeling of true bliss.

How many times have you sat down to a Christmas Dinner, or Thanksgiving meal, or some special occasion and over eaten. Been left straining inside your suddenly too-tight pants? Well fear this no more because help is at hand!

If you have never tried on maternity pants before, I totally suggest you do. My God. It’s like wearing a sofa they’re so comfortable! You don’t even need to be pregnant… these bad boys are stretchy and will hug you no matter what size you are. I’m never taking them off. NEVER!

I bought my first pair reluctantly at just past 12 weeks. I felt like a total fraud… I mean, I was just fat, no bump. My old pants were uncomfortable because I put so much weight on (I had really bad nausea that only eating lots of carbs would settle). I didn’t want to waste money on pants that I would only (please God) grow out of soon, so getting pants that would grow with me seemed logical.

The Handsome Husband and I slunk in to a Maternity Clothing store, trying desperately to avoid the staff and the inevitable “how far along are you?”… What was I meant to say “Oh… I’m an hour and a half pregnant…” Anyhoo, I managed to grab a few things and make it to the fitting room unmolested.

And then I put them on.

Heaven in denim form.

Oh sweet comfort and happiness! Straight away I said to the Handsome Husband “I’m never taking these off”… And ever since they’ve been known as my “party pants”, because even if we didn’t still have our Wee Beanie I would have bought them – and would be wearing them to all dinner parties in the future.

If you’re pregnant… Seriously, don’t put off getting in to these pants, don’t let modesty ruin the opportunity for true bliss.

And if you’re not pregnant and love food, seriously… Go and get some! Every big meal from this day forth will be a complete joy! While every one else is complaining about how tight their pants are and how uncomfortable they feel… You’ll be sitting back and smiling, and reaching for that extra slice of cheesecake…

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Feel Joy, Feel Anxiety, Panic, Repeat.

The first time I got pregnant I was so confident.  Even though we’d had to go through IVF to get pregnant, I was utterly oblivious to the fact that once the little guy had implanted and we saw a heartbeat… that he wouldn’t be in there for the long haul.  I was casual about things.  I (I’m ashamed to admit) would have an occasional half glass of wine.  I kept working (I didn’t feel too ill), and did all the things a normal person would expect to do… including shovelling 25cm of snow off the driveway!

This time, it’s all different.  I wake up every morning and put my hand on my belly and hope that our Wee Beanie is still in there, and growing like he* should.  Then I feel ill (My God! So ill! No vomiting but the kind of nausea that just makes you want to curl in a ball all day).  Then I notice other things… hmm… a few cramps, wonder if that’s a miscarriage starting… no no… probably just gas.  Then I’ll feel something gush out of me… cue a race to the loo to confirm that it is just one of those delightful pessaries and not actually my baby falling out.

Today we are just short of 11 weeks pregnant.  Our last baby left us at 12 weeks and 5 days.  Needless to say the dates are not lost on me.  There is some weird thing in my head that says if we can just get to 13 weeks we’ll be ok.

Fortunately we have a scan on Monday so we’ll get to see if our Wee Beanie is still hanging in there, growing like a good growing thing, and I hope to God, and all that is good, that he is.

*Obviously it’s way too early to know the sex of the baby, I just refuse to call my little miracle “it”

P.S.  Random thing of the day… Looking through my stats and search terms for the blog today and one of the latest ones was “artificial insemination, fucked and he came inside me”… umm… is it just me or is that NOT artificial insemination??  Some people!

 

 

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Please don’t leave me… I need you!

We’ve all seen it so many times.  Someone here on the Blog-o-sphere or on Twitter gets the good news that their dreams have come true.  They get a BFP.  And suddenly a whole host of people who have been following them and sharing their journey are no longer able to support them.  It hurts so much to see someone succeed where we have failed.  That someone else may get to hold a baby while our arms are still empty and our hearts aching.

So, before I give you this next bit of news… I want you to know that I need you.  I first started blogging after the loss of my first pregnancy, after our first cycle of IVF.  Since then, life has gotten more and more complicated.  Two more cycles of IVF where our results just got worse and worse, and then the ultimate heartbreak, being told that my eggs were so poor they would likely never result in a baby.

I started blogging (and tweeting) because the Handsome Husband and I have done this all alone.  Since we started trying to conceive (five years ago) our journey has been private. No one in our real life knew we were trying, let alone trying IVF.  When we reached the end of our third cycle of IVF I told one of my friends what we’d been through, but not that we were considering trying again.  And why? Because everyone means well, but they put additional pressure on you.  They ask how things are going constantly, even though these things take time.  And we just wanted to be able to move along at our own pace.  Mostly it worked really well.  When I miscarried, I needed to talk to people who understood, who would know what I was feeling and be able to share my pain without trying to “fix it”.  And so I turned to the internet, and complete strangers who now know more about me than my closest friends, than my own family.

So it is with unrestrained joy, but a heavy heart, that I tell you now that I am pregnant.  9 weeks and 1 day to be exact.

But please don’t leave me.  I know that to some of you this will be just another stab through the heart, and I understand, I do.  But being pregnant doesn’t change the fact that I am infertile, and my god, I am so afraid.

I fear every cramp, every check up, every blood test, every scan.  I lost my last baby at 12 weeks and 5 days, and I imagine every day that I feel another miscarriage starting.  I don’t want to be afraid.  I want to feel joy.

At least this time things are different.  I have the most terrible morning sickness (all day – no vomiting just overwhelming nausea) and my boobs are huge.  HUGE!  Last time I had a scan at 7 weeks and then nothing until we lost the baby (we moved and hadn’t organised a new OB GYN for the 12 week scan).  This time I have had a scan at 6 weeks (heartbeat!) and at 8 weeks (still a heartbeat!).  But now it’s been over a week and all I can think is that something has happened because I can’t see my Wee Beanie.

So I might have won the lottery.  Our Donor has given us the most incredible gift, not only the hope of a baby where all hope was lost, but now an actual little one growing inside me.  But I need support more now that I ever have.

I am so afraid and I need you.

 

 

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PUPO and dangerous!!

I’ve been a terrible blogger. I’ve been chatting away furiously about our current Donor Egg cycle on Twitter, but have neglected to update my blog with any detail. I’ve given myself a swift kick up the bum and promise I won’t do it again. (Who are we kidding… of course I will!).

Any-hoo… It’s been a busy old time. Full of excitement, hope, disappointment, frustration… but finally, today, I am PUPO with one perfect little Day 5 Blastocyst. It’s gorgeous. The best looking one I’ve ever seen. But even more unbelievably, it seems we might have four more to freeze, but we won’t find out until tomorrow.

But I’m getting ahead of myself…

Last time we spoke we’d flown to the States for our initial consultation and to meet all the staff at the clinic and had decided to go ahead with a Donor Egg cycle. Since then I’ve done a mock cycle to make sure I’ll produce a lovely wee lining for any embryo, and we chose a donor.

Choosing a donor is like internet dating to the max x 1000. What is most important? That she looks like me? That she has similar interests? That her family history is similar to mine? It was so tough. But we finally chose one that had similar features to me, and some similar traits (Good at English, crap at Math kind of thing). We chose to do a “shared” programme so we would share our donor with another couple to reduce costs. We were the first couple to choose this particular donor, so we sat back and started to wait. And wait. And wait.

After about six weeks I contacted the clinic and asked if we could have another look in the database to see if there was another donor that might suit us, but without having to give up our reservation with the one we had already chosen which we were pretty happy with.

And there she was. The perfect donor. Similar features, similar personality, similar interests… everything about her just sang to both me and the Handsome Husband. Fate had intervened and shown us the perfect donor. And best of all… another couple had already chosen her so as soon as we changed our selection we were underway.

Her first appointment after starting stims was amazing… they told us there were 29 follicles seen. 29! We were just beside ourselves with joy. But things slowly went downhill. There were 23 follicles the next time, 20 the time after that… and the numbers worth measuring were quite small. By the time we got to trigger date I was worried that we might not end up with any eggs at all (the clinic guarantees you four eggs, so if she produced seven the primary recipient would get them all as there wouldn’t be four to give to us).

On the day of her Egg Collection we got the call. Things had gone great and there were 10 eggs for us. 10! All for us! I couldn’t believe it and had to ask again to make sure the number was correct.

After that it’s all been a blur. Six of them fertilised, five of them have done really well and one has limped along a little and is probably out of the running now. I’ve only ever had two eggs fertilise across three previous rounds of IVF. And now we’ve got five doing great things!!

So then we had to have the serious conversation about how many to transfer. The Handsome Husband only wanted to transfer one, the advice the RE had given us was that the chances of maintaining a pregnancy are highest with one embryo, but I can’t shake the notion that two embryos = two chances and therefore must be better. In the end we agreed to go with one, and when we arrived this morning for transfer there was only one that had made the shift to Blastocyst so the choice was easy.

So I’m PUPO. With the only embryo we need to have our family. I’m feeling so different this time (and to be honest… not having to do stims or an Egg Collection was freakin’ awesome!). I’m actually hopeful.

OTD is 2 Sept (was meant to be 1 Sept but that’s a public holiday here… so why not wait another day!?)

If anyone has any unicorn dust or fairy poop they could send my way, I’d sure welcome it. 

Please let it be our turn.

But if it’s not… please let us have a freezer full of frosties to have another go…

P.S. The Doc was so complimentary about my lining… said he wished they could clone it, it was that good. So our wee embie has first class accommodation… here’s hoping it likes it so much it can’t bear to leave!

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When bloggers turn mean

Since starting this blog over a year ago, I have “met” the most amazing men and women, who are going through exactly the same thing as me, and who have provided me comfort at some of the lowest times of my life. Up until a few days ago I had never had a bad experience on here… some funny… some weird… but never anything bad.

Until “Vanessa”.

I’m calling her Vanessa, because that’s her name. Her full name is Vanessa Ramirez – and thanks to the wonders of the internet I have her email address too… which I’m seriously considering giving to every spam company in the entire world. Because frankly my dears, Vanessa is a bitch.

Vanessa visited my blog, you know the one, about my significant struggles with infertility, about expending our options to have a genetic child of my own.  About heading down the path of Donor Eggs as the last possibility to carry a baby of my own. Well, Vanessa visited my blog and left this comment:

Vanessa

What the actual fuck?

I am so unbelievably pissed off with this. I haven’t replied (except to write this whole ranty post obviously) but it just keeps running around in my head. All I can think of is:

1: What a miserable bitch her friend must be to “hate” the woman who gave her life, just because she couldn’t provide her own egg. Never mind the fact that her mother’s body sustained her with life while she was in the womb… and every day since in some form.

2: No better than a surrogate? Are you actually serious? Yeah… ‘cos the thing with having a baby by donor egg means you just give birth to it and then hand it over. No wait. You actually raise the child, love the child, spend every day of your life doing everything you can to make that child happy. Couldn’t be less like a surrogate.

3: Her friend wants to find her “biological mother”. Hello? Her biological mother is sitting right in front of her, being hated for giving her life and love. The contributor of half her genetics is unknown, there is no “mother” that is missing.

I can’t spend another minute thinking about what this stupid woman has said. I’ll just end with these heartfelt words:

Fuck you Vanessa.

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When hope grabs you by the boob…

Just when you’re about to hang up your uterus… along comes hope, grabs you by the boob and before you know it… you’re off again.

A while ago I read on here that we infertiles should be called “hope addicts”… and this week has certainly proved that to me. We’re officially going to try a DEIVF cycle. For the first time in so long, I feel real hope surging in my chest. During our last IVF cycle I don’t recall ever feeling positive about it. I had doubts about the protocol, felt like we were in the last chance saloon… it was all pretty much surrounded by dread.

This time… it feels different.

But first, let me tell you about our appointment on Wednesday. We had to fly to the States on Tuesday so we’d be ready to go first thing Weds morning. We turn up at the clinic and were met by our “international co-ordinator” who gave me a big hug and was super nice and helpful. Then we were straight in to meet our Doctor and have our appointment – he was fab, funny and sincere without being patronising. Gave us lots of great information and answered some questions we had. Then the Handsome Husband was whipped off to make love to a jar, while I leapt in to some stirrups and had a “mock transfer” so they could map things out and make sure there wouldn’t be any problems. After that we were locked in a room and visited by a financial coordinator and then someone from the Donor database to show us how we would use it to find our perfect match! (Like internet dating but way cooler!). Then we had a visit from the woman who will be our nurse throughout to go through the meds. First time I’ve seen the needle that is used for progesterone injections. Holy shit! I thought the Handsome Husband was going to pass out. So glad he’ll be giving those injections not me!!

It was a huge day… but through it all I found myself getting excited. With actual healthy eggs (they guarantee you’ll get at least four otherwise they cancel the cycle at no cost) it just feels like we’ve got a real shot.

Now I just have to complete a “mock cycle” on Estrogen so they can see how my lining will shape up… and then we’ll get to actually choose a donor and move forward. Hopefully by the end of April we’ll have a rough timeline of how things will progress.

Grab me by the boob and dance me round the garden… there’s hope in this girl yet!!!

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Back on the wagon – DE styles

I’ve been terrible lately. I haven’t posted anything because there’s not been much to say. After our last magnificent failure (5 eggs – none fertilised) we went in to hiding and stopped thinking about all things IVF.

When it was time for our WTF appointment I knew what he was going to say. No point continuing to try with my eggs. They’re rubbish. And our only option would be trying again with Donor Eggs. What I didn’t expect was that we would start seriously investigating it and agree we’d give it a go!

I had originally thought it would be too expensive – and it IS pretty expensive. To add to the complications we can’t do it in Canada so we have to travel to the US for treatment. But we’re going to give it a shot.

We’ve already had one phone consultation with the guy who will be our Doctor – seemed really nice but of course the consultation was mostly about trying to push us towards the most expensive options. And on March 19 we head to the clinic for our first appointment.

I’m excited, terrified, happy, nervous… Such a ball of emotion!

I started the birth control pill yesterday and as that tiny tablet crossed my tongue I felt a little flare of Hope. I haven’t felt that in so long.

The other night I was talking to one of my best friends and the conversation presented a natural moment for me to tell her about everything we’ve been through – so I did. This is the first time I’ve told anybody in my real life about our treatments, the miscarriage… Any of it. She was ace. She cried with me and told me how incredibly brave we’ve been. And of course she was cross with me for not telling her anything sooner. It felt so good to actually tell someone about it. But for some reason I now feel very vulnerable… We’ve kept it all to ourselves for so long, knowing that someone else knows make me feel strange!

Of course, in typical me fashion I didn’t tell her about our DEIVF investigations… Hopefully I’ll get to tell her by showing her a belly full of baby 🙂

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