Beware Greeks Bearing Gifts

Not really. These gifts were given with the best of intentions, but my response was tears (thankfully not in front of the person who gave them).

I went to my hairdresser today - a wonderful woman who cured me of my hairdresser phobia - and had my hair cut a little too short, in case it's a while before I can have it done again. As I left, she gave me a package.

I opened it up when I got home and found a really cute outfit for age 6 months and a book in which to record important things about the baby's first year. And I cried, because all I could think was "what if I never get to use these?".

I'm really not doing well with the anxiety here.

Neither Here Nor There

I read a couple of great blog posts this week that really got me thinking about the whole "them and us" thing around those still coping with infertility / pregnancy loss and those who are parents. Loribeth's post Facebook and the Great Parental Disconnect and the several linked items are both amusing and poignant and remind me of the times when various form of social networking have brought me to tears with unexpected photos, news etc. Over at Waiting for a Baby Bump, Separated from the Wolf Pack made me cry because it so completely reflected my feelings of being left out as more and more friends and relatives became parents while we continued to lose pregnancies and fail cycles.

The Facebook-related post also made me realise that I had posted my scan photo on the last post with no warning. I know that a) not many people are reading my blog anyway and b) many girls who are still in the trenches of IF/pregnancy loss will be avoiding it because it's too painful (I know, because I've been there myself). But still, I should have put a warning in the title for anyone who stumbled in while in a vulnerable place. It also made me wonder about the bump photo I put on Facebook the other week - although I did think quite hard before I put it on and decided that it was probably OK as ALL of my friends know what our path to this point has been and the one friend that I know has had issues with TTC has OKed such communications on FB - I checked first. But still, I have a lingering feeling of guilt about it - and then I feel sad about not being able to enjoy these little things in the way that the vast majority of my friends have done.

Anyhow, the main point of this post is to process some of the feelings that I have while in this limbo of pregnancy after loss and IF:

• I am pregnant, but I do not feel like a parent - even though the woman that leads our NCT class calls us mums and dads. I had to laugh when she spoke about the intimacy of parents during the birth process in relation to the "inevitable" intimacy during conception - my husband and I weren't even in the same city when our wee one was conceived!
  
• My pregnancy seems to be progressing healthily but I live in daily (hourly!) fear of something going wrong. The two-weekly visits to the high-risk clinic both help with this and serve to remind me that this is not a normal or average pregnancy.
  
• Our flat is beginning to fill with baby items that I feel extremely ambivalent about - I hope we'll need them - and I even experienced brief feelings of pleasure when buying them / getting them from relatives and friends - but I'm aware we may never get to use them and I am very superstitious about having them before we have the baby.
• I am now regularly meeting with other pregnant women and hearing about births and continue to feel jealous - their pregnancies (in general) came easily, are low-risk and they don't know the desperately sad stories that I do about what can go wrong in pregnancy and birth.
• Friends who previously avoided talking to me about pregnancy (or avoided talking to me altogether at times!) now want to have in-depth conversations about topics ranging from nappies to pain-relief during childbirth to bre.astfeeding. Part of me wants to pick up all the tips I can, part of me is terrified to listen (after all, it might jinx my pregnancy!) and a very big part of me feels angry and upset that I am only included now because I'm part of "the club".

It's that last one that made the "Separated from the Wolf Pack" post feel so relevant. I am unbelievably grateful to be pregnant (and especially to be this pregnant - a stage I've never achieved before). And I know that these people mean well when they are giving me their advice and sharing their experiences. And honestly, I could write a book about how to get pregnant and about pregnancy loss, but I have no clue about being pregnant or having a newborn, so I should probably listen to them. And I have moments of happiness that I can have these conversations at last and feel part of something I never thought I would experience. Being able to talk to my mother and sister about pregnancy has been very special - they always supported me through the tough times. BUT . . . I do have moments where I want to ask some of these people why they couldn't be as chatty and supportive when my heart was breaking and I felt terribly alone. And I have moments of rather unpleasant clarity that my new-found position among my fertile friends depends entirely on a successful pregnancy and birth - if early losses can send people running as fast as mine did, I can only imagine what a very late one would do! Although, maybe I am being unfair. Maybe it is the "invisibility" of an early loss that makes it so hard for others to cope with - I don't know - that's a whole other post (or 20)!

The one place I have found true comradeship is among my friends - IRL and online - who have been through IF / pregnancy loss and are now pregnant or have kids through natural conception (does that really happen), IVF, donor eggs or adoption. They understand that very uncomfortable mixture of joy and terror that a post-IF/loss pregnancy or possible adoption brings. They were fantastically supportive while I was still trying and an absolute Godsend since this cycle worked.

Last week I went along to a "Pregnancy After Loss" support group in the same place I used to attend the miscarriage support group and then the infertility support group, where I met most of these lovely people I now call friends. There was only one other girl there and she had only found out that she was pregnant the day before the meeting. She had had one early loss and a late one at 21 weeks. I felt a bit of a fraud alongside her - while I've had a lot of losses and a lot of trouble getting pregnant, my body has been ruthlessly efficient at getting rid of pregnancies and that caused me a lot of pain but spared me a lot more. I tried to blink away tears as she described her birth story and the memorial for her little girl. It breaks my heart when I hear or read stories like hers.

There are a couple of bloggers I read who are living childless and who have lost pregnancies late on, and the further through my pregnancy I get, the more I admire them for just being able to breathe and get out of bed. I came to their blogs because I was coming to the point where I thought I was going to be living a childless life (and trust me, I am not making any assumptions that I won't still be!) and it was that aspect of their blogs that I focused on - I needed to know that not having children wasn't going to kill me (because, I admit that there were times when I really couldn't see the point of life without children). Time and reading blogs like theirs gave me perspective and, ironically, not long before we had the DE cycle, I came to a place where I thought that I might just be able to have a good life without offspring - I even found myself getting excited about things like travel and our new home. And had I not got pregnant on this cycle, or even if I'd had another early loss, I know I would have been OK. Now, I have gone back and read their pregnancy and loss stories and have a whole new perspective on their strength and tenacity. I cannot fathom how I would ever recover from losing this pregnancy now or sometime in the future or losing a child I had birthed.

So here I am. I am not comfortable in the world of fertiles - and I certainly don't consider myself one of them. I am feeling separated from my infertile friends who are still trying and missing them and wishing and wishing that something would work for them. I still have a few friends who get where I am right now because they're there too (or have been recently). But more than anything else, I have an ever-increasing respect for a group of women whose shoes I have not walked in, who have lost their babies at a point where they had seen a heartbeat on an ultrasound, felt them move, bought nursery furniture for them or had actually given birth to them, whether they were stillborn or died after birth. I have been invited to attend our local SANDS Christmas service and I hope to go and say a special thank you for the baby I am carrying now and a prayer for those who have lost theirs. And I never, ever forget how very fragile happiness can be.

Quite a Moment (WARNING - contains 3D scan photo)

Yesterday, we went to have a 3D / 4D scan done (photo at bottom - spaced down so you can avoid it if you want). It felt like a very indulgent, possibly slightly tacky thing to do (at least it certainly would have been if we'd gone for the cute captions on the DVD) and the frame we got was not something we would normally have chosen (I know - call me a snob!). But it's something I've wanted to do since I saw the one my sister had of my (now 8-year-old) niece - taken on what was then a very new kind of machine in the early pregnancy unit she worked in as a midwife. When we got home we picked our favourite picture and put it in the frame. So finally, after more than seven years of trying, sitting on our mantelpiece among the photos of all of our nephews and nieces there is a photo of OUR baby. We're not there yet - 29 weeks tomorrow - and I know there's still so much that can go wrong, but what a feeling it gives me to look up at that photo! I wish the same for all of you who are still trying.

Why Donor Eggs, Part I

I've been trying to finish this post for two months, and not doing a great job of it. Turns out that being pregnant at 41 with health issues and working full time is not conducive to, well, anything else. So I'm going to put out what I've got so far and probably finish it off once I stop work, which should be in about 4 weeks according to the docs - just past 28 weeks.

We have been very honest about the fact that this pregnancy is thanks to donor eggs and that, of course, has raised the question of "why?". I don't have a simple answer to that question, but I want to talk about it here and I want a record of it to remind myself of the process.

Needless to say, there are two strands to the answer - the physical one and the emotional one. I may well repeat things that I have said in previous posts, but I don't remember clearly what I have and haven't said and I certainly don't think anyone reading it will, so I'm just going to stick in what's relevant.

We started trying to conceive more than seven years ago and our journey includes:
• 6 natural conceptions, all of which ended in an early loss
• 6 cycles of Clomid, all producing at least 2 follicles and all ending in BFN
• 1 IUI - BFN
• 1 straight IVF (16 eggs; 13 embryos; a grade 2, 3 cell and a grade 3, 4 cell embryo transferred on day 2; none for freezing) - BFN
• 1 ICSI with immune treatment and CGH array (5 eggs; 1 normal, resulting in a 4 cell embryo on day 3 (not sure of grade, but not great)) - BFN
• 1 IVF with donor eggs (5 eggs; 4 grade 1/2 embryos at 8-12 cells on day 3; 1 grade 1, 12 cell "perfect" embryo "on a mission" transferred on day 3; 3 frozen embryos) - BFP

And that would tell you the physical story right there! We could get pregnant on our own, at intervals of about 1 year, but it always ended around 5-7 weeks. We could NOT get pregnant on any kind of fertility treatment with my eggs - and the embryos we produced were rubbish! On the donor cycle, the embryos were great.

After loss number 6, a kind nurse in the pregnancy support unit asked if we'd considered donor eggs (not at that stage), so we spoke to our IVF consultant who agreed it might be worth a try, as did our recurrent miscarriage consultant. Everyone seemed to agree that it seemed likely that my eggs were an issue - physically, I knew that was a possibility but emotionally, I wasn't ready to consider that.

Right from the first pregnancy (the first month we tried - ha!) and loss, I had a feeling that something was not right. I had desperately wanted to get pregnant, but was not nearly as happy as I felt I should be when I found out that I was. I knew that something had gone wrong with the pregnancy, even thought the doctor assured me that losing symptoms for a while was very common. He took a blood test, I went on holiday, checked my messages at the end of day one to find an urgent message to call my GP. I phoned them and was told I should expect to miscarry at any time - it started the following morning, while we were on holiday abroad.

After another 6 months of trying (and assurances that one loss was very common and that it was a very good sign that we had got pregnant so easily) there was no 2nd pregnancy and our GP started to investigate - my hormones were OK (slight signs of PCOS) and CM's sperm analysis was also OK (not stellar on the formation front, but not bad enough to cause problems). Try some more . . . referral to infertility specialist. Two months before that appointment, I got pregnant again and lost it again. Infertility specialist refused to do any testing/treatment as I have been pregnant in the last 6 months. Marvellous!

Thankfully, I found a great GP within my practice who was prepared to refer me to the local recurrent miscarriage clinic for testing, which showed up my Factor V Leiden, which I briefly thought might be the issue - a haematologist soon cleared that up for me: 2nd and 3rd trimester losses, but nothing as early as mine. This was when we approached a private consultant and started on the Clomid.

My sister had conceived on Clomid and, although she'd had a missed miscarriage (a blighted ovum), she had, very quickly afterwards, conceived my nephew on it. I thought it was a slam dunk and so did the consultant. It wasn't! Neither was the IVF we went on to. In the meantime, I was diagnosed with PCOS, insulin resistance, low thyroid and another, non-specific clotting issue in addition to the FVL, all of which were treated. Three more natural pregnancies, three more losses. More Clomid, in combination with Metformin, more BFNs.

So, that’s the physical. As you can tell, we'd never had an issue with using medical advances in our pursuit of parenthood. By this time though, we were starting to lose faith - I had also tried homeopathy, reflexology, chinese herbs, acupuncture, nutritional testing and supplements, hypnosis and anything else I thought might give me an edge.

In terms of the emotional side, during all this treatment and time my attitude to our attempts to become parents started to gel. It's best described as follows: if you wanted a doughnut (for example), the first place you would look would be in your kitchen; if you couldn't find one there, you would go to the corner shop; if they were out, you would go to your nearest supermarket; if they didn't have what you wanted, and you still really wanted it, you'd go further, try harder and consider possibilities you thought you'd never entertain when the need for a doughnut first came upon you.

Lost Blogger - Can Anyone Help?

Just a very quick post to see if I have missed something. I have been trying to read Waiting for a Baby Bump since her last post, but keep getting the message that "The blog you were looking for was not found.". Has she gone private or is there a fault. I can see that there is a new post - I just can't read it!

Bleurgh!

We interrupt this blog to bring you a moan and a whine! I am in the middle of writing a loooooong post on why we went with donor eggs, but have been waylayed by health issues.

Since coming back from holiday three weeks ago, I have had a horrible cough - tickly and coughing stuff up and, short of honey and lemon which does NOTHING, I can't take anything to make it better. I was given antibiotics (pregnancy-friendly ones), which I took, but the cough remains. On top of that, I have developed a lovely cold (or at least extensive nasal congestion) on top of the cough - just since last week. I literally cannot breathe through my nose - no air will pass through it at all! I have tried saline do.uches, steam, menthol sweets - no joy. I said to CM the other day, that I feel like this is how I'm going to be for the rest of my life. Normally, I get a cold and after a week, I'm better. This cough and the stopped-up nose will.not.go.away!

My blood pressure medication has been changed (about 6 weeks ago) and is no longer a be.ta-block.er and my resting heartrate is now around 95 - not enjoying that, and worrying that along with the BP it's something underlying that's going to end this pregnancy, if not me too.

And then there's the sleep ap.noea diagnosis I received two weeks ago. I went in last night to be fitted with a CP.AP mask and machine that should hopefully stop me from ceasing to breath 30 times an hour while I sleep, as I do now. However, I made a total arse of myself, had a panic attack when they put the mask on, only managed 45 minutes in it all told (none of them asleep) and cried on one of the nurses. It was probably optimistic to think that blowing air down my throat was going to be a fun thing while my nose doesn't work and my throat goes into spasms every 10 minutes even without such encouragement, but I am so terrified that these gaps in my breathing are going to affect the baby that I was determined to give it a shot. And I failed.

What made me cry was the thought of my poor baby struggling for oxygen, and the thought that I wasn't able to do the one thing that might make it better. I just want my baby to be alright. Needless to say, I have resorted to Dr Goo.gle who tells me that low birthweight/growth restriction might be a possibility - I try to comfort myself with the thought that the baby's measurements have all been bang on. I couldn't find anything telling me my baby might die as a result of my apn.oea, but I did find something linking it to pre-eclamp.sia (my pet worry). However, it seemed to be more that women with pre-eclamp.sia (whose babies can be growth restricted because of the PE) are more prone to sleep ap.noea rather than the other way round. I asked the sleep clinic nurse to get one of the consultants to give me a call to talk more. In the meantime, I am praying for a speedy recovery so I can make a big effort to get this mask to work.

Again, I'm left feeling ungrateful for not being happier during this pregnancy. I know how incredibly lucky I am, and this pregnancy - this baby - is the most important thing in my life. But because of this, I am also terrified. I have survived early losses (quite a few), but I don't think I would survive losing this one. One thing became incredibly clear to me last night - the fact that this pregnancy is not genetically mine makes not one, tiny difference to how much I love and want it. I knew this intellectually before, but last night it was visceral.

And . . . Relax (Mostly)

I am on holiday and I have reached my second trimester: two very good reasons to be happy.

I have finally managed to comment on the blogs I follow, though it has taken me several days to do it. You see, we are in a rather hilly, remote part of the UK in a cottage with no internet connection. We brought mobile broadband dongles with us, but they only work if we point everything in the right direction, at certain times of the day, if we stand on one leg and chant an incantation as we do it. You get the picture! Most of the comments were written while balancing my laptop on a window ledge (the walls of the cottage are so thick that all internet and phone usage must be done at a window) with the dongle, on the end of its extension cable) wedged into a bit of the sash-and case window lock. For some obscure reason, I was unable to comment on 2 blogs - Last Chance IVF and Waiting for a Baby Bump. The little pull-down menus that allow you to choose an identity weren't functional and it wouldn't let me submit without the identity. However, I am now on a train with wi-fi access and have managed to resolve that.

The holiday is very welcome - as you might be able to tell from the last post. After telling me I didn’t need to move rooms, my boss then changed her mind. And my co-teacher had a load of interviews and meetings, so I was rather overloaded in the last week or so of term! So far, we haven't done a lot. We have visited a couple of stately home, mainly to wander their grounds and admire the wildlife. We've also had a couple of days of doing very little of anything. I finally got hold of the complete remastered Twin Peaks and we're working our way through that in the evenings or when the weather's a bit wild. I don't usually watch anything more than once, but Twin Peaks is my big exception. I think this may be the 15th time I've watched it and I'm still noticing new things - the remastering helps with that!

The reason I am on a train is that I have just returned my lovely niece (aged 8) to her home city after a stay of a couple of days. Her older brother came to the cottage when we were last here two years ago and she's been keen to have her turn. We took her to an amazing castle that's a cross between a stately home and a theme park. We hope she enjoyed it as much as we did. She was also excited at the prospect of staying up late to watch the wildlife on CCTV. No, we are not at a well-known country park, family resort-type-thing (cen.ter.pa.rcs - my idea of hell as an infertile and I can't see my view changing even if this pregnancy works out with a baby at the end!). We are in a small cottage on a working farm and they did the CCTV thing very early on. We can watch foxes and badgers come to feed in a barn and a barn owl and her mate who have, we think, 11 eggs at present. I was saying it would be amazing if they hatched while my niece was here, but CM reckons if she goes home with a story like that, my nephew will be on the next train here to fight the one-upmanship! As it turned out, one egg did hatch and she saw some badgers, which she loved, but I think the staying up late was as much of an attraction in itself.

While she was staying with us, I got a little taste of what life may be like if this pregnancy works out. My niece would come into our room and I would get up and make her breakfast and see that she was OK and make sure she got dressed and brushed her teeth. Then I would deal with my own morning routine. Meanwhile, CM would continue to lie in bed, then have a shower and then come down once he was dressed and ready. Hmmmm. He did cook in the evenings, I’ll give him that. But I ended up tired and going to bed at the same time as my niece, then getting up with her, and so having no “grownup” time and no time to myself. I already have issues with this, as my job is such a people-heavy one - I am never, ever on my own at work - and CM is almost always at home when I get back and then I go to bed before he does. I tend to go out a LOT more than he does, and go away for weekends to see my sister etc. So he gets quite a lot of “me” time and never needs to ask for it. I, on the other hand, have to ask and then get a very grumpy response about “why should he have to remove himself for my convenience” etc. I sympathise with the idea that he doesn’t want to go out just because I want him to. On the other hand, I love him dearly, but if I don’t get some time and space to myself occasionally, I am NOT a happy person. I can see this being even more of an issue later on. Something to discuss, methinks!

As I said when I commented on one of the blogs I read, I have been mulling over a post on why we went for donor eggs in the end (or, more accurately, why I did - I can’t really speak for CM). I think that will be what comes next here.