Part 1 – I have arrived

I was the biggest baby in the ward when I was born,10 lbs 2 oz. I know, it’s hard to believe isn’t it. All 5ft 10.5 inches of me. I was whipped away from my mum and paraded around the ward, biggest baby in the world! I have a few early memories. I tried to escape out of the front door on many occasions when I was very young, usually with one or two teddies in tow. My brother used to sit on the top of the pram when we went out, I used to kick and shout at him to get out of the way, he was blocking my view of the big wide world.

I remember sitting on the top of the stairs, defiantly refusing to go to sleep. I can’t remember exactly how old I was? I never wanted to go to bed, I was scared of missing something. That continued until I was about thirty-three, I am lucky if I make 9:00pm these days. I remember talking to my teddy bears a lot. I didn’t like dolls, I dragged most of them around by their hair or gauged the eyes out. I did have a Cindy doll, the one with the yellow and blue tracksuit but even she met her fate by being drowned in the bath. Mum stopped buying them for me. I never had Girls World, I would have probably chopped all her hair off!

I loved my teddies. My favourites Boris and Norris have since entered the afterlife, with each of nan’s when they passed. I knew they would be safe and happy. At least my brother wouldn’t be able to terrorise them anymore. He jammed Boris’s head in the car window when Dad was driving once, he nearly fell out. I was beside myself. He also tied my teddies to my bedpost and hid them and told me they left because they didn’t love me. I retaliated by breaking anything of his I could get my hands on.

I had a little plastic wallet that was stuck to my wardrobe with blue tac. It had a card with a prayer written inside it and a tiny little cross. I’m not religious but I used to touch that many times before I went to sleep and bless myself just in case I didn’t wake up. I was convinced I was going to die by the time I was 18. I remember telling my friend it was going to happen when were were skating around one day with our roller boots on, (I had the blue ones with the white zig zag). I was quite good actually considering I was tall and awkward. I think she thought I was weird.

This is the same girl who forced me to stand on the street corner next to the pub and shout a swear word really loudly. Bad move since I only lived three doors away from the pub and she pretended to do it by mouthing the word. I just yelled it out loud. I think I was ten or eleven. I was so worried thinking someone would tell my parents but I got away with that one. We were friends for years and then we fell out and ended up fighting in the street once, hair flying everywhere!

I got into a few scrapes when I was younger, not always girls. I stabbed a boy in the head with a pencil when I was in junior school and all hell broke loose. This was delayed retaliation. The same boy had pulled me off my chair a week earlier and I banged my head. I vowed to get him back, so I waited and one day, walked passed him with my chosen weapon and dealt the blow! I could tell it hurt and I was pleased. He was a bully and I wasn’t standing for that.

I have respect for people but I don’t allow people to intimidate me. Treat people how you want to be treated, that has been instilled in me from young age and I have carried that through my life. I might have been fearful at times but I never showed it. I had some tough times in school and life but have I always fought back. Don’t get me wrong, I can be difficult, a right cow at times and downright nasty, if I am pushed into a corner. People don’t often see that side of me but those closest have witnessed and probably been on the receiving end of it.

I went to Sunday School when I was growing up, I don’t remember much about it really. I do still have the little Blue bible that they gave me and I actually read quite a lot of the bible when I was younger. I hate Sundays, always have. I never wanted to go to school on a Monday. Dad also used to make us watch World at War on a Sunday night, god that was depressing. I remember watching it one night, I had my head on a cushion and I started getting palpitations. Great, I’m going to die again. I woke up the next day, grateful that World at War hadn’t caused my death. Sad things used to scare me. I suffered with panic attacks a lot but learned how to hide and control it.

Out of my group of friends that I hung around with, they were all Catholic, like me. My mum was Protestant and my dad Catholic. The priest in my mums local Catholic church, St Johns, would only marry them if any future children they had must be christened in the church. Crazy? Held to ransom by a priest but they kind of ruled the world then. They did get married in the church, he was conveniently off that day. We were christened Catholic but not confirmed and we didn’t take communion. My dad was forced into religion when he was younger and detested it and wasn’t going to inflict that on us.

We were not forced to go to church but I went along a lot with my friends. I was part of the group and didn’t want to be different. I couldn’t go to a Catholic school because of this but I wasn’t really that bothered. Sometimes they would be talking about school and what they had done and I felt a bit left out. I had my own school friends too but they lived in a different area. I remember standing in St Johns church and feeling very resentful and not really understanding what it was all about. It is such a beautiful church, it still stands in amongst streets that I grew up in. I went to confession once, never again. What a horrible experience. Talking to a complete stranger through a wall. I didn’t do anything that bad that I would be burning in hell for. Well, not at that point anyway?

I stared junior school a year early, when I had turned four. I should have stayed in nursery for another year but I wasn’t having that. I was always the youngest in the class because of my birth date. My brother had moved into big school just across the yard and I had decided I was going there too. I think they were so fed up with my tantrums, twirling around defiantly swinging my arms, and ignoring the teachers so they let me go. How pleased was I! How annoyed was my brother?

I loved my junior school,(except for the outside toilets in the playground). We had one at home when I was really young and my Nan had one at the end of her yard. Always so cold and full of spiders. I swallowed a spider in the school toilets once, walked right into a web and off it went on its journey to my belly. I was convinced a spider tree would grow inside me. I actually remember swallowing it, a little money spider. Didn’t help me much!! Damn spider.

I grew up in the same street as my maternal nan. My paternal nan lived a bit further away. My paternal Grandad died before I was born. Such a shame as I think I would have like him. I heard that he was a lovely man and he loved my Mum because he had a smoking partner. My maternal Grandad was a bit of a closed book. He wasn’t your typical grandad, I don’t remember sitting on his knee hearing stories about his days in the navy. I remember being resentful that he never gave us pocket money. All of the sweets I could be buying in Jim’s corner shop. He used to sit at his sandstone step and had a suntan all year round. He had that dark skin that looked weather beaten and dark brooding eyes that didn’t tell you much about him, just that he maybe had some hidden secrets.

I remember walking on the other side of the road and he was sat on the step, like he always was, I waved and then walked straight into the lamp post, (I still do things like this a lot). I carried on walking, he didn’t run over to see if I was okay. I consoled myself with my ten pence I had to spend in Jim’s shop. I spent ages picking out twenty half penny sweets. I thought about it years later of how annoying that must have been to have a gang of kids taking half the day to decide how to spend ten pence. Money was precious then and went so much further.

I have always had my own mind from a very early age and been very strong willed. My parents will vouch for this. My Dad is still shocked as to how I completely wrecked my bedroom at the age of three because I didn’t want to go to sleep. I had a furious temper when I was younger. I managed to pull my mattress off the bed, pull the curtains down, empty drawers out. Apparently, the noise was horrendous. I was such an easy child.

My temper used to rear it’s head between me and my brother. I think it is safe to say that me and my brother hated each other growing up. He still moans that I ferociously burst his football with a dart, this is the same dart that 5 minutes earlier he aimed at me and it landed in my arm. I’d say he got off light. The punches were real and hurt but I never showed it, I used to punch back just as hard (I think). I threw a milk bottle at his head once,(yes a glass one), he threw a bread knife at me and stabbed me in the backside. I think the kitchen door got damaged (again)that day. This was a daily occurrence. We just clashed.

My next chapter is more about my many animated fights with my brother, life growing up in the area of Kirkdale and how looking back and writing this is helping me understand how those early years formed who I am today. Hope you enjoy reading.

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9. Every end is a new beginning.

Tomorrow came, then the next day and every other day after that arrived as normal. Everyday was the same for me for a long time. What I should have been feeling was pain, loss, sorrow, anger, confusion, jealousy and lots of other emotions? Or so they say.  What I actually felt was emptiness, nothing. How can you feel nothing?

I was offered counselling when I attended my last appointment. You talk about the treatment and they tell you everything went as planned but no guarantees are offered. I know that, so what was the point in going over old ground again and again. It was done, dusted and over. I wanted some normality back in my life so I carried on as normal but I didn’t feel the same, I felt different. I didn’t look or act different but I somehow felt different.

A date I do remember is Wednesday the 23rd of December 2015. I was invited to a 50th birthday party and it was fancy dress. I didn’t drink that night but I got into the spirit and dressed up along with everyone else and we had a great night. I drove my friend home afterwards, she asked me in for a cup of tea. I declined but she insisted. For the next two hours I could barely speak through my tears, for some reason this was the time I felt I could talk. It came out of nowhere, I didn’t plan it? I don’t think I had realised or at least acknowledged how utterly miserable I was and how much I was struggling.

i kept everything locked inside for a long time. I still wouldn’t accept counselling today if it was offered, I have always self counselled. It may not be the right way to do things but it’s the way I do things. It may take time but I’ll always come back fighting, harder and stronger that’s who I am. I have my parents to thank for that.

I want to thank my husband, family and friends for all the amazing support I received and have received since I started treatment. I realise this wasn’t just my journey, all of the important people who I love were on this journey with me. A light has been switched back on and I have started to enjoy my life and look forward rather than back. A big part of this was leaving my job, something I had wanted to do for a long time but worried about financial security and trusting my own capabilities. I have faced many things in my life and I am still here. I am learning to live with it, just like you learn to live with all adversities you face in your life. I feel excited about the future and we will be look at other options when we are both ready.

Writing this blog (or story) has really helped me personally and let me clear my mind of everything I was feeling. I wrote this for me but I have realised since,  it has reached many people, in many different ways. I am glad it has helped some people to understand or come to terms a bit with their own infertility fears and feelings. The feedback I have received  has been heartbreaking at times but more importantly positive. People have said ‘never give up’. If you know me, you will know I never give up on anything, I am starting another new and exciting chapter in my life.

Turn your own page and start to create new memories.

AJ X

 

 

8. Where is my stork?

 

I remember when I was a child wondering where babies came from? I used to think I would wake up one morning and my baby would be sitting on the end of the bed, waiting. A bit like Christmas Day when lovely things just appeared. I knew my belly would get bigger because babies grew inside your belly. That was fine though as it would go down again.  I was very young and innocent when I thought this! I can’t say if I was maternal when I was younger? Caring yes but maternal, I’m not sure? Is caring and being maternal the same thing? I used to drag my dolls around by the hair, my Mum gave up buying them for me. I much preferred my teddys.

Everyone always said, you would make a great Mum, you deserve it. I don’t deserve it, I want it? I know I’d make a good Mum, it doesn’t mean it’s  going to happen though does it. I know people meant well but sometimes I wanted to scream at them. I want to carry on my legacy. I want someone to need me, look up to me, be part of me, call out for me in the middle of the night. That’s the bit that’s missing, that’s the bit that hurts.

I look a lot like both of my Aunties on different sides of the family, at different stages in my life. I remind my Dad of his Sister so much, we both have that ruthless streak once we start.  My niece is a mini me with her personality and definitely her sense of humour.   I look at my husbands two boys and how much they are both like him in different ways. I love it when you see a picture of little ones and the parents look exactly like them at the same age. I’ll never have that, I’ll have no one to remind me of me. Who will talk about me when I’m gone? There will be no part of me to carry on or remember?

It felt like I had waited all my life for this phone call. My hand was physically shaking when I answered and my mouth was dry. I could feel my heart beating in my throat, that’s the exact moment I knew I was going to be heart broken if this didn’t work and a rush of fear shot through me like lightning. It was another moment when I wanted to go back to the beginning and forget ever starting this process.

I was in a dazed state, I couldn’t quite take in what she was saying. My golden eggs had survived and were doing exactly what they are supposed to. I was told to come back in the following day and they would be put back in their rightful place. I felt an ache and I was desperate to have them back, they needed me, they needed to be home.

The next two hours passed quickly in excited calls, husband first,  then the parents and my close friends. Everyone had been waiting and the responses were thick and fast. Well done, told you so, I’ve got a good feeling, you only need one good egg and on it went. I felt positive and started to believe this was going to happen. It was the right time and everything was falling into place.

Right, back to looking at prams. I hadn’t changed my mind, I still wanted the same pram I had seen a friend with and now I was price matching on different websites!

The procedure to put my golden eggs back in didn’t need an anesthetic and was quicker than the retrieval. I was a bit dissapointed about this as it was precious cargo and I wanted to make sure they were stored correctly. Hubby stayed on the ward while I went in, I was back within 10 minutes. Is that it, no grand ceremony for the homecoming? I felt a bit deflated and nervous that they hadn’t inserted a plug, what if the eggs fell out when I stood up? I was told to go home and rest for a few days, don’t over exert myself and carry on as normal. Carry on as normal? I can’t even pee. Well, I could but didn’t want to in case they decided to slip out. It’s a natural feeling, although impossible for it to happen due to the nature of where they were now resting! I had a little vision in my head of them snuggled up under a duvet, comfy and warm. That’s what I done when I got home, snuggled under my duvet. I went straight to bed to give them a chance to settle in. I was scared to move!

So, the two week wait begins. I think I saw every minute of everyday for two weeks. You try to carry on as normal but it is, was,  impossible. It became a daily routine of obsessive behaviour, every ache, cramp and pain was a sign. I googled whatever it was,  whenever it happened. I joined chats and forums of women who were going through it at the same time or had been through it. I had incredible highs and intense dreams but the lows were low and almost unbearable. I took to patting my stomach quite a lot and talking to it, like you talk to a plant when you want it to grow. I done everything I could to encourage my little babies.

I was back in work and still had a week to go. A few people knew so when I disappeared to the toliets and came back looking like a panda, they didn’t look my way for fear of setting me off again.  Others looked warily and probably thought ‘she’s at that hormonal stage in her life’,  steer clear!  I functioned day to day but I don’t know how? My husband looked after me and wouldn’t let me exert myself. It was a great excuse not to do any cleaning or ironing and for once, I didn’t feel guilty everytime I looked at the growing pile of clothes. This would be my life from here on in anyway so I’ll get used to it now. I won’t have time to do the ironing when I’m a Mum.

I was told not to test early as the result wouldn’t be definite so best to wait until the actual day. Yeah right, I’d bought four tests and I was going to use all of them! I decided to test a day early, who wouldn’t? I’d had different symptoms over the last two weeks and scrutinised and discussed every single one of them until I was Blue in the face. You just want someone to give you answers, not one hundred reasons why this could be happening. Why can’t someone just tell me it’s all going to be fine?  Nothing major had occurred,  I hadn’t lost any blood so that was good, I knew my eggs were still at home.

I’m annoyed to say I can’t even remember the date I first tested. Why would I though?  It wasn’t significant and besides I had wiped it all from my memory. I woke up at 4 o clock and held on until 5 o clock. I knew my husband was awake but we said nothing. I ran into the bathroom quickly and left hubby in bed. I done the test so quick, almost too quick and closed my eyes. I opened them quickly again, nothing was happening, no plus sign just a single Blue line. I should have listened, it was too early to test. I got back in bed, I didn’t react I just said, it’s negative.

I had to go to work. I was on the brink of collapsing in a heap but I started my usual routine, drove to work, walked across the car park like every other day and sat at my desk. I would test again tomorrow when I was supposed to and everything would be okay. It had to be.

 

AJ X

 

 

 

 

7. How would you like your eggs?

 

 

Egg collection day was one of the most positive times during the treatment. I didn’t know what the outcome would be, no one did but nevertheless, I woke up in a positive mood. I was hungry too,  I hadn’t eaten for twelve hours in preparation for the anesthetic  The little stories in my head (that I so often make up) had started again. I had been talking to my follicles and willing them to come good. I kept patting my tummy, almost like I was already pregnant, telling them it would be okay, everything would be fine. I imagined them wrapped up warm and snuggled in, happily growing. I dreamt of a giant golden egg being presented to me with a red bow around it, then I thought of chocolate and I was hungry again.

I was told to arrive with no perfume, deodorants or make up on and nails clear of varnish. This was a serious procedure so when I arrived on the ward, I had followed all of the instructions, well sort of. The young trainee nurse took us into room with a few beds, I was the only person in the room today so I had it all to myself. I wouldn’t have minded if the other beds were occupied but I was happy that it was quiet and relaxed. Husband was with me,  as always. I know I don’t mention him much but as I have previously said, this was always my thing, my journey. Looking back it was a pretty selfish way to think but also self preservation. I couldn’t deal with anyone else’s feelings. It was all about me.

I felt really happy today and I was taking it all in my stride, even when I was told off by the older nurse for wearing tinted moisturiser on my face! I found this hilarious and I laughed along with the younger nurse who said I was causing trouble. I was taking it seriously but I have never been one to follow the rules, I always had to break one of them! It was even funnier when my husband had to get changed into scrubs and his trousers were halfway up his legs. The white clogs and hair net that accompanied the outfit suited him. It was all of the little distractions that kept me sane.

I was prepped and ready to go. I walked into theatre, Sue was there. I was glad, she was so experienced and knew just what to say to make you feel at ease. The consultant came in followed by a student nurse and then the anetheisist.  I was lying there in all my glory for all to see. Hunt the egg came to mind. My husband was nearby and I was calm. The room was a busy hive of activity and we were all in quite close proximity. I knew what the procedure entailed and I knew it wouldn’t take too long. I was relaxed and ready to meet my golden egg. A screen was positioned to next to me so I could see every move. I was determined to stay awake throughout it, my husband said I fell sleep for a bit but I swore I never! I remember a hatch opening to the side and my husband cracking a joke about tea and sandwiches being served. It was actually the embryologist on stand by for my golden egg. I was in a bit of a daze but I do recall my husband patting me on the head and someone saying two. Before I knew it I was back on the ward, I was half asleep but started to wake up. I felt groggy and my eyes wouldn’t focus properly. I couldn’t mistake the smile on hubbys face though.

Well I never,  I had two golden eggs!! The bugger that was lagging behind had caught up and both eggs were deemed viable. Sue was so excited and couldn’t wait to rush in to tell us, another nurse who had been present at one of our previous appointments said ‘I’m so glad you went through with this as it just proves you never know what the outcome will be’. She was right, we didn’t expect this. I wasn’t even sure they would get one, never mind two. I sipped my tea and started to daydream.

This drive home was different to yesterday’s. Laughter, smiles, positivity, thinking of what prams I would like. A friend of a friend had a great pram when her first baby arrived and I wanted the same pram. I’d bought a bigger car, I’d easily get the pram in and the car seat would fit perfectly. I’d get the seat fitted properly, I’d be too worried otherwise. I thought about showing my baby off and how happy I and everyone else would be. Just let me dream for a minute, go away negative thoughts.  Don’t  burst my bubble, please.

The embryologist had told us both eggs were good quality, the larger one was the better grade but we coildnt have asked for anything better. For my age range, they would only implant a maximum of three eggs anyway so two out of three was perfect for me. A new story was developing and I felt positive about the next page in the book. It did feel strange to think I had left my eggs behind but I was sure they were safe and in good hands. Anyway, I had a photo of my eggs to moon over until I get my babies back. Two golden eggs!

The next stage is the science bit, super sperm is injected into each egg and they are closely monitored over the next twelve hours to make sure they survive and enter the expected phase. It’s a bit more technical than this but they will pin point the exact day when the embryos (my golden eggs) need to be transferred back.

I had to sit tight and wait for a call the following morning from the embryologist to see how everything had developed and if my eggs could be transferred back (brought back home). My OCD had kicked in now, it does when you feel stressed and under pressure. I was thinking of the most ridiculous scenarios. If I pick the bit of fluff up from the carpet it will work, if I don’t, it’s my fault and I’ll never forgive myself for leaving the fluff on the floor. If I don’t wash this cup now, that’s it, it’s all over. I realise now it was all very irrational but I had no control over the outcome. I had control over picking the fluff up so I picked all the fluff I could find and put it in the bin. Phew, that feels better already. Back to sitting tight!

I was home alone the next day. Hubby had to go to work, it was for the best as I needed time to gather my thoughts and I wouldn’t be called back in today. I had to wait for my phone call and I wasn’t sure when that would be. As it happened, it was 08.25am, my heart stopped when the phone rang.

AJ X

 

 

6. Eyes wide shut

Nothing’s going to hurt me with my eyes shut….

It is now week four since I began treatment. For a second,  it felt like a normal Monday morning when you dread the alarm going off and you just want that extra five minutes in bed. My stomach flipped, I was scared to open my eyes today. I couldn’t escape the reality of facing what was coming this week. I wanted to follow my usual routine, get up, eat my cereal, go to work and forget this ever happened. At the same time,  I didn’t want it to end.  It was too overwhelming to contemplate what happens when it’s all over?

I’m supposed to be relaxed throughout this process.  I must relax. Sit down, think of nothing, relax. Like hell I can!! I have been pumped full of hormones, my body has gone into shock and is so confused. It’s not a natural feeling. I felt like I had a task to complete and I couldn’t fail. The pressure was on, how could I relax?

I had been working full time over the last few weeks with a few scheduled afternoons off to attend my scans and appointments. I had been busy in work but it did take my mind off things. One of the questions I asked myself, well blamed myself for was not taking enough time off work for the whole process. Did I put myself under too much pressure and was I relaxed enough? Did I give myself a chance? I asked myself the same questions many times during the weeks that followed.

I was called in for the last scan and this would be the indication of what day the egg collection would be, if my body had responded accordingly!  I kept thinking of a chicken everytime the phrase ‘egg collection’ was used! Once again I was sitting in the waiting room (felt like I had moved in). It was all too much today, I sat there with tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t make eye contact with my husband, it was another one of those moments when there are no words. We held hands, that was enough. I hadn’t had the scan yet but I knew that towards the end my body hadn’t responded as expected to the treatment.

We sat together in the side room with Sue, as always she was cheery, smiling and positive! I had lots of follicles at the beginning of treatment but not many of them had come to fruition, they have to reach to a certain size to be viable for egg collection. One of those little buggers had grown and one was lagging behind. The others were lazy and stayed dormant. There were still no guarantees that there would be viable eggs in either of them. It was all too confusing, what was she trying to tell us? Usually they would not proceed with this amount, you would need to have definitely more than two, or three in some clinics.

Even though I knew and half expected this news, I felt such a failure. I could feel my body physically withering inside me, I instantly felt old and different, that was the worst feeling. I felt like I was on my own and wasn’t part of the gang. Such a sad feeling. I held back my tears and Sue put her hand on mine and said, it only takes one. We had to go home and wait for a call, the consultant had to look at the results and confirm if he was happy to proceed.

We drove home in silence, my husband was trying to stay positive as always but I could feel the anger welling up inside me. I started to make lunch when we got home, almost trying to get some normality back into the situation. My husband, although still trying to stay positive was confusing me by merely talking. I just wanted silence, I didn’t want to listen to anyone else, I just wanted quiet, peace and quiet. In that moment I lost it, I threw the plate across the room and screamed. It wasn’t an angry scream, it was a painful one. I collapsed in a hysterical heap, this continued for at least an hour until I felt physically sick. It stopped abruptly. It was a relief to let out in that hour what I had been bottling up for a long time.

I composed myself, hugged my husband and said if we can, I am going through with it. I don’t care about the money, we have to give it a chance. Like Sue said, it only takes one egg. I was exhausted when my phone rang but I was ready for the call, I took a deep breath and listened to Sue. The consultant was happy to go ahead but it was our choice.  She pointed out, amongst other things that we could have a 75% refund if we decided to stop the treatment.  I didn’t hesitate, I told Sue to expect us on the ward tomorrow at 8 o clock. I wiped my tears away, put the kettle on, cried some more and went to bed early.

It’s funny as Sue and another nurse, said how amazingly well we had both approached this and coped with the whole process. How calm I was, probably one of the calmest patients she had come across. We had the right attitude and had dealt with it so positively. I didn’t disagree with her, at times I did feel almost serene. I have always had a knack of literally switching off my feelings. I wasn’t calm, I wasn’t anything? Nice of her to say it though.

Egg collection day from the chicken had arrived. Finally some good news?

AJ X

 

 

5. Four weeks to become a Mum??

After my treatment had ended and my test was negative, I gathered all of my paperwork, notes and unused medication, put it away and closed the drawer. I had been given a magnified photo of my eggs, I spent hours looking at that picture. That went in the drawer too. At the time I thought, could this be the start of something special? I sent it to my Mum, I think she was going to put it in a book and start recording the journey of her grandchild. Maybe that was a mistake but I was so proud of my two eggs! It wasn’t long after that I threw it all away, everything, it meant nothing to me now. I wish I’d kept it because I can’t remember a lot of the process and I’d like to see my eggs again 😄 It feels strange as it wasn’t that long ago but you are in a weird robotic state, it feels like it happened to someone else?

If you had asked me at the time I could tell you how many follicles had grown and my FSH reading, the measurements of each one and how many on each ovary, my oestrogen levels and how many air bubbles I flicked out of the needle on day three! Your mind plays clever tricks on you, it can shut out certain parts of your life, hide them away. It can pick and choose what you remember and twist the memory until it is something you don’t recognise. I can hardly remember any of it now?

It felt like a long time to get going and start the treatment. Running alongside my appointments for blood tests and scans, my husband also had to wait for a procedure called PESA. In laymans terms (urban dictionary), this is a nice big needle going into ones testicles to get some of those swimmers. Now, I know men haven’t got a high pain threshold but I did feel for him having to go through this. Mind you, he played on it enough afterwards! This was a key part in the treatment and he came up trumps (not literally). My husband has super sperm! I think they actually referred to it by this name? I did contemplate buying him a personalised cape!

Before I started the treatment and collected my meds, I had to attend a class on the ward alongside seven other women. I didn’t know any of them and I didn’t recognise anyone from ‘The Waiting  Room’? We were all going through the same thing but no one spoke, just the usual glancing at each other and the making up of stories in my head! This class was a practice session to show you how to inject yourself with the necessary meds. We each had our own desk, a bit like school but worse! The desk was laid out for each individual with lots of needles, small glass bottles, water and a plastic pin cushion that was pink and made to look like skin which was then strapped around our legs. I found this all quite amusing, until I started to try and take in the enormity of this task, wait no, responsibility.  Basically, the onus is on you to get it right. Talk about pressure, so much to remember. Now listen, this bit is important. Make sure you flick each bottle, some liquid might be stuck in the top and you need to get it all in your needle,  30mls of one bottle to be drawn out with your needle and mixed with water and a funny little tablet thing in another bottle. Make sure the needle has no air bubbles when you are injecting yourself as this can cause blood clots! Don’t put the needle right in, just three quarters of the way at an angle. The same time twice a day, it is imperative it is at the same time. Really, I just thought I took a few tablets and the sperm got shoved in somewhere?

I left a bit shell shocked and made my way to the on site pharmacy. I handed the sheet over with my long list of required medication.  I took a seat and waited. A lady come bustling from behind the counter and past the crowds towards me and shouted, are you the lady who is waiting for the IVF medication, you need to go to the other pharmacy. So now everyone knows I am barren, thanks for that bitch face!!! Off I trundled to ‘the other’ pharmacy. I was handed two full carrier bags full of my medication and a sympathetic look. I felt like saying, it’s not even for me so don’t look at me like that. I have ten kids you know! Defensive, another feeling that materialised.

When we finally set a date to start it was November 2014, I had now turned forty two. I was going onto a short protocol, this is treatment over four weeks that included medication, injections and scans to monitor your progress. In a nutshell, they use medication to stimulate your ovaries to collect as many good eggs as possible, it is more technical and invasive than this and you are poked and prodded and scanned to see what you have to start off with and how you are responding to the medication. It is perfectly timed and your cycle is taken over and controlled from day one. I feel like I have watered it down but I could literally write three pages of how the treatment works and that would be condensed. It’s all very interesting at the time!

One thing I must make clear is the amazing support I received from all of the team. A fantastic job is done by all. I felt like I was the only woman in the world going through this and they made me feel like I was the most important patient they had ever had.

Women describe it as a roller coaster ride and it really is. You look for signs, try and read the body language of the nurses and the sonographer every time you come in for a scan or an appointment. You worry that you haven’t injected yourself properly or did I take my oestrogen tablet last night?  You go from sheer elation believing this can really happen, looking at baby clothes and picking cots and prams, to waking up in the dead of night feeling sick with worry and fear of it not being successful. You can’t say anything out loud in case it comes true or people think you are getting a bit ahead of yourself. I remember falling to my knees on occasions in despair just wanting someone to give me a sign. I dreamt during the treatment that I had a boy, I could see him and he was so real. Maybe this was a sign?

My treatment started out positive, took a nose dive and then peaked at the end. The day of egg collection has arrived. I had an indication of what to expect and it wasn’t great, well not as great as I had hoped but once again, about normal for my age. I couldn’t do anymore, they had thrown everything they had and more at me, the results were in…..

 

AJ x

 

 

 

4. Feeling the love ❤️

In the few days since I have started this blog, it turns out it is more of a story…and a long one at that! I didn’t realise I had so much to say on the subject but now I have opened up about it, I can’t stop!  It is the first time,  in a long time that I have felt passionate about anything. My spark had gone and I have been going through the motions of day to day life and not addressing this at all!

Don’t get me wrong, I have a great life and we are more fortunate than some. I have the best family and amazing friends and my husband has been supportive in every decision I have made, good and bad! He has two wonderful sons who I have bonded with and whilst I will never be their Mum, I am part of their lives and always will be. My husband, more than anyone has been by my side throughout this journey,  he played his part too and I don’t think I have given him enough credit for that. I have been pretty selfish with my thoughts and feelings, it has been all about me and my loss and the impact on my life. He has listened through my tears and put up with my tantrums and anger. Sometimes I sat in silence for hours,  I wanted to talk about it but the words wouldn’t come. I wanted to scream but silence followed.  My emotions were devoid. I lost interest in everything, I left my job after 10 yrs, I couldn’t bear the routine and the fact that everything was the same, but in fact, everything had changed. Leaving my job was a big decision, I suppose it was the only decision I felt I had any control of at the time?

On a lighter note, I have had lots of great feedback since I started. I didn’t expect anything from it, or at least I didn’t know what to expect? I am doing this for me and my sanity but if this has struck a chord with anyone, or they have enjoyed it and understood it, then I will carry on as I have lots more to say, explain, face and understand.

Thank you for reading and being part of this journey with me. I am feeling the love and turning a corner in my life.

AJ x