So we passed - well, Bean passed, and I came along for the ride. Nuchal fold testing this morning, and the radiographer has just rung with the news that bean is 1:3423. Given that my age related risk is 1:270, I think that we can call that a pass.
The radiographer is the same one that has done all my scans over the last 6 weeks and she made me a "going away present"; she had done a montage of all the scan of the last few weeks. Obviously these people don't remember pregnancy hormones when they do these sorts of things - tears ensued. Is it bad form to hug your radiographer _ I can never tell.
I will miss some of these people as this journey continues - the fertility nurses, the radiographer, the receptionists who know I am insane and put me through anyway. Finally something that non-ivfers can envy, I have developed amazing relationships with these people and that is something that normal people who only have a scan a couple of times or poas will never get to know. So pththththtfffftt to them. OK, I'm not sure it's worth it, but they have made an awful journey bearable at times, and I take my hats off to them.
Since Bean has passed the test, and doesn't need huge needles stuck into them for the fun of it, Spot the wonderboy is trying to work out the most ingenious way of telling everyone. That was our deal, he wasn't allowed to discuss it with anyone who I knew, outside his family until 12 weeks was up. I am fairly sure that he has already taken up the full page ad option in the local paper and is working out some discrete way to change his facebook status. I, on the other hand, still feel that it is tempting fate to say the words out loud, let alone discuss it publically with anyone. I am hoping that changes before, say, the child is in primary school, otherwise that could get a bit embarrassing. Until then, I am just getting fat.
Which I am, although I am not sure that has much to do with Bean, and more to do with the excessive amounts of cheese on toast that I seem to be consuming. A meal is not a meal unless it involves melted cheese and some form of hot bread. I am blaming the bean - needs calcium and protein etc, but really, I just like cheese on toast a lot.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
days pass ...
All is good - bleeding has settled, cramps have not, but I am living with them.
Ultrasound in a couple of days - not that that's a focus or anything. We are trying to work out acceptable stats, you know, when the amnio becomes necessary as opposed to just life-threatening for the bean. Dr Google comes in handy yet again. Spot the wonder boy barely participates in the conversation - its completely unnecessary from his point of view, as everything is fine, and will be fine. I envy his optimism, and his happiness in the bean.
Over the last couple of days, he has started reading us a story before bedtime - good so bean can learn his voice, good for language development (yes, I know its 12 weeks old - did someone call for a helicopter parent). Not so good for the dislexic who has never read children's stories before. He is horrified, completely appalled. He may even venture into a bookstore to find something with less blood and gore. I pointed out its moralistic blood and gore, and yet the horror remains. Wait until he gets to the Little Goose Girl!!
Apart from that, we wait, magic marker not withstanding, all is good.
Ultrasound in a couple of days - not that that's a focus or anything. We are trying to work out acceptable stats, you know, when the amnio becomes necessary as opposed to just life-threatening for the bean. Dr Google comes in handy yet again. Spot the wonder boy barely participates in the conversation - its completely unnecessary from his point of view, as everything is fine, and will be fine. I envy his optimism, and his happiness in the bean.
Over the last couple of days, he has started reading us a story before bedtime - good so bean can learn his voice, good for language development (yes, I know its 12 weeks old - did someone call for a helicopter parent). Not so good for the dislexic who has never read children's stories before. He is horrified, completely appalled. He may even venture into a bookstore to find something with less blood and gore. I pointed out its moralistic blood and gore, and yet the horror remains. Wait until he gets to the Little Goose Girl!!
Apart from that, we wait, magic marker not withstanding, all is good.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
its getting closer all the time ...
Surprise ultrasound this morning -its such a great start to the day. The clinic realised that they didn't have measurements for the 12w nuchal fold blood test that goes with next weeks u/s so we got a surprise u/s.
Bean is fine - its caught up to where it is supposed to be - 11 weeks today and it measured exactly 11 weeks. It bounced around for a while and waved, and then got bored, rolled over and refused show us anything other than its back. Well, it was 8 in the morning. I, of all people, can understand the urge to rollover and go back to sleep at that time in the morning. I was right, the heartbeat is slower, but on 179bpm so still fine.
Did I mention it waved.
Maybe this is real after all.
Bean is fine - its caught up to where it is supposed to be - 11 weeks today and it measured exactly 11 weeks. It bounced around for a while and waved, and then got bored, rolled over and refused show us anything other than its back. Well, it was 8 in the morning. I, of all people, can understand the urge to rollover and go back to sleep at that time in the morning. I was right, the heartbeat is slower, but on 179bpm so still fine.
Did I mention it waved.
Maybe this is real after all.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
holes in my feet, and my heart
Acupuncture today, more holes in my feet to stop the bleeding. Hopefully, it seems to be working, its definitely getting less, which is a good thing.
Bad news for friends still stuck on this treadmill yesterday has got me thinking and also feeling guilty. Which I know is stoopid, there is not a finite amount of positive pregnancy tests in the world, but it feels like it sometimes. This game is so fucking unfair, horrible things happen to wonderful people, and its such a crapshoot. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't, and only hell can tell why.
For all their talk about medical science, medical wishful thinking seems to be more like it. The only difference, from what I can see, from the current fertility medical specialist to the one a 1000 years ago, is that they have replaced sickles with specula. Its still try and try again, until you reach the holy grail or run out of money, or emotional space, or energy. And it is impossible to understand until you are already a hamster on the treadmill just how exhausting this journey actually is. Of course, once you are on, its too late for you. There is always a new protocol, a new regime, a new drug, a new test just around the corner that will make the difference. And so you use up all your hope, again and again, until all you are is tired and bitter.
That doesn't seem to change, either, once you get the result. Then a whole new set of fears kick in, and I refuse to acknowledge it until, well, not sure when exactly. Probably when I sending the child off for primary school, but who knows. Up until then, acknowledgement just means I will either lose it again (which, incidentally, is a stupid expression, you lose keys, and money behind the back of the couch, but I digress), or just seems to make me feel awful for those still running behind me. I know they don't feel like that, well, I hope that they are not lying, when they tell me they don't. For me, there was a hierarchy of these things, positive pregnancy tests from people who had no trouble all the way through to multiple ivf miscarriers. One end I wanted to drown in my bitter tears, the other I was genuinely happy for. Its sad, that my happiness is dependent on the level of someone's previous pain.
So, for Miss Jo, I am deeply sorry for you, and believe me, will be so over-the-moon happy for you later. Take time, and when you want help crawling out of the abyss, here is my hand.
Bad news for friends still stuck on this treadmill yesterday has got me thinking and also feeling guilty. Which I know is stoopid, there is not a finite amount of positive pregnancy tests in the world, but it feels like it sometimes. This game is so fucking unfair, horrible things happen to wonderful people, and its such a crapshoot. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't, and only hell can tell why.
For all their talk about medical science, medical wishful thinking seems to be more like it. The only difference, from what I can see, from the current fertility medical specialist to the one a 1000 years ago, is that they have replaced sickles with specula. Its still try and try again, until you reach the holy grail or run out of money, or emotional space, or energy. And it is impossible to understand until you are already a hamster on the treadmill just how exhausting this journey actually is. Of course, once you are on, its too late for you. There is always a new protocol, a new regime, a new drug, a new test just around the corner that will make the difference. And so you use up all your hope, again and again, until all you are is tired and bitter.
That doesn't seem to change, either, once you get the result. Then a whole new set of fears kick in, and I refuse to acknowledge it until, well, not sure when exactly. Probably when I sending the child off for primary school, but who knows. Up until then, acknowledgement just means I will either lose it again (which, incidentally, is a stupid expression, you lose keys, and money behind the back of the couch, but I digress), or just seems to make me feel awful for those still running behind me. I know they don't feel like that, well, I hope that they are not lying, when they tell me they don't. For me, there was a hierarchy of these things, positive pregnancy tests from people who had no trouble all the way through to multiple ivf miscarriers. One end I wanted to drown in my bitter tears, the other I was genuinely happy for. Its sad, that my happiness is dependent on the level of someone's previous pain.
So, for Miss Jo, I am deeply sorry for you, and believe me, will be so over-the-moon happy for you later. Take time, and when you want help crawling out of the abyss, here is my hand.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Road testing obs ... they come with ultrasounds
First visit to the first of the shortlisted obs today.
I like him, he was calm and patient and seemed to understand both my history and my Dr google fetish. He was curiously upbeat about everything, and had an ultrasound machine to show me that Bean is fine. He didn't measure or anything crazy like that, but the little thing looked bigger than last week, which helps. In a small moment of paranoia, the heartbeat looked slower, but Spot the Wonderboy didn't see that, and suggested that I was merely insane.
He gave me all his numbers and said "I feel confident telling you to call me at 3 in the morning, cos I am sure you wont need to, but I really don't mind if you do". Plus, he said that I can pop in for an ultrasound anytime I like (he even has midwife receptionists who can do them if he is around) and all in all, seems lovely.
This was the obs from the shortlist who is supposed to be obsessive-compulsive and likely to do every lovely reassuring test known to mankind. The other one, who I see next week, is supposed to be more able to deal with the Dr Google fetish and able to talk me in from the ledge when I find an obscure journal article from the Medical Society of Romania that suggests that 17 women who drank 4 cups of peppermint tea in 1966 all miscarried. But so far Dr Calm is winning, plus I like his receptionist/nurse and if IVF was anything to go by, I will spend far more time ever talking to her than I will to him, notwithstanding the extremely large sums of money that are paid for the privilege of leaving a message.
I also liked the fact that he looked tired, which the nurse said was because he had been up at 4 this morning delivering a baby. I have heard horror stories of obs refusing to get out of bed cos it was too cold (and lets face it, I live in the mountains, during winter, its freaken cold) or cos they couldn't be bothered. So, all in all, a good day.
In unrelated news, still bleeding and the cramps are still vile. I wish I could believe that this is just my version of morning sickness, but cramps and blood are never a good idea, notwithstanding what the witches tell you. I am getting closer to that magic marker - the twelve weeks, and I would have thought that the feelings of impending doom would be falling away slightly, but there is just so much that can go wrong in the next couple of weeks. This is when chromosomal deficiencies come in (cos my gene's are so fucking fantastic), plus the placenta has to kick in, plus well, the list is pretty endless. On the bright side, Dr Calm felt that there was no reason to discontinue the prednislone until after the 12 weeks, he said "There is no point taking away a safety net if it is just going to make you worry and stress you and the baby out". Take that FS with your blase "oh, you can stop that whenever you like, implantation is mostly over by now". Mostly, I ask you, Mostly?????
Oh, and Bean went to its first rock concert. P!nk, no less, so slightly cool. I stayed in bed all weekend, and rested and then went out. Of the house. For an evening!!! Baby steps, but I had bought the tickets ages ago in my "Fuck It All" phase, the one where since it was apparently obvious I was never going get pregnant, I decided that I would become one of those frantically selfish women that I hear are choosing not to have children cos it would destroy their thighs. I have failed to find any yet, but my SIL keeps assuring me that they exist. Since I couldn't have a baby, I would have lots of expensive wine, regular manicures, $200 haircuts (which did look fabulous), travel whenever I liked, and generally have a great time. Not, as my SIL decided, focus on being the best Aunt I could be. What I wouldn't do was avoid planning for events on the grounds that "we might be pregnant".
So there is a raft of social activities coming up, P!nk being the first, and she rocked. It was awesome and there was gushing. Although, I did have to nap, and there was some slight concern about the fact that it would be 10.30 by the time we got home, which incidentally, is nothing to do with the Bean and everything to do with the fact that I am just old now!! She danced, she sang, she did trapeze acts, what more do you want! I hope Bean enjoyed it, particularly now that the u/s confirmed that it didn't seem to hurt it in anyway. Maybe it was wriggling along?
I like him, he was calm and patient and seemed to understand both my history and my Dr google fetish. He was curiously upbeat about everything, and had an ultrasound machine to show me that Bean is fine. He didn't measure or anything crazy like that, but the little thing looked bigger than last week, which helps. In a small moment of paranoia, the heartbeat looked slower, but Spot the Wonderboy didn't see that, and suggested that I was merely insane.
He gave me all his numbers and said "I feel confident telling you to call me at 3 in the morning, cos I am sure you wont need to, but I really don't mind if you do". Plus, he said that I can pop in for an ultrasound anytime I like (he even has midwife receptionists who can do them if he is around) and all in all, seems lovely.
This was the obs from the shortlist who is supposed to be obsessive-compulsive and likely to do every lovely reassuring test known to mankind. The other one, who I see next week, is supposed to be more able to deal with the Dr Google fetish and able to talk me in from the ledge when I find an obscure journal article from the Medical Society of Romania that suggests that 17 women who drank 4 cups of peppermint tea in 1966 all miscarried. But so far Dr Calm is winning, plus I like his receptionist/nurse and if IVF was anything to go by, I will spend far more time ever talking to her than I will to him, notwithstanding the extremely large sums of money that are paid for the privilege of leaving a message.
I also liked the fact that he looked tired, which the nurse said was because he had been up at 4 this morning delivering a baby. I have heard horror stories of obs refusing to get out of bed cos it was too cold (and lets face it, I live in the mountains, during winter, its freaken cold) or cos they couldn't be bothered. So, all in all, a good day.
In unrelated news, still bleeding and the cramps are still vile. I wish I could believe that this is just my version of morning sickness, but cramps and blood are never a good idea, notwithstanding what the witches tell you. I am getting closer to that magic marker - the twelve weeks, and I would have thought that the feelings of impending doom would be falling away slightly, but there is just so much that can go wrong in the next couple of weeks. This is when chromosomal deficiencies come in (cos my gene's are so fucking fantastic), plus the placenta has to kick in, plus well, the list is pretty endless. On the bright side, Dr Calm felt that there was no reason to discontinue the prednislone until after the 12 weeks, he said "There is no point taking away a safety net if it is just going to make you worry and stress you and the baby out". Take that FS with your blase "oh, you can stop that whenever you like, implantation is mostly over by now". Mostly, I ask you, Mostly?????
Oh, and Bean went to its first rock concert. P!nk, no less, so slightly cool. I stayed in bed all weekend, and rested and then went out. Of the house. For an evening!!! Baby steps, but I had bought the tickets ages ago in my "Fuck It All" phase, the one where since it was apparently obvious I was never going get pregnant, I decided that I would become one of those frantically selfish women that I hear are choosing not to have children cos it would destroy their thighs. I have failed to find any yet, but my SIL keeps assuring me that they exist. Since I couldn't have a baby, I would have lots of expensive wine, regular manicures, $200 haircuts (which did look fabulous), travel whenever I liked, and generally have a great time. Not, as my SIL decided, focus on being the best Aunt I could be. What I wouldn't do was avoid planning for events on the grounds that "we might be pregnant".
So there is a raft of social activities coming up, P!nk being the first, and she rocked. It was awesome and there was gushing. Although, I did have to nap, and there was some slight concern about the fact that it would be 10.30 by the time we got home, which incidentally, is nothing to do with the Bean and everything to do with the fact that I am just old now!! She danced, she sang, she did trapeze acts, what more do you want! I hope Bean enjoyed it, particularly now that the u/s confirmed that it didn't seem to hurt it in anyway. Maybe it was wriggling along?
Saturday, August 15, 2009
breasts, boobs, norks, tits .. oh and bleeding.
I was going to write something terribly amusing about my trip for new bra's yesterday, but then I started bleeding again, which tempered the amusement somewhat.
But where was I, yes, yesterday it finally became apparently obvious (its been sneaking up ok) that the ongoing battle with my breasts was well and truly lost. Between ivf and its outcome, there is no room left to pretend - these things have got huge!!!!
I was hoping I could hold out until maternity bras, but Friday night lying on the couch (its all a massive go-go here in our lives) and still falling out of my top made the trip to the shops inevitable.
So there we were, Spot the wonder boy, the fantastically pert 12 year old, and my breasts. Little miss pert suggested that maternity bras were not the way to go yet (finally someone as paranoid as me!!) and that I just buy a couple in a larger size to get me through until underwire was no longer a good idea. Now, just let me preface this with I like underwire - underwire has been my friend for many a year, underwire is a perfect way to start the day as far as I am concerned. I used to be a 12C, there used to be options, not anymore. Now, as a 14DD, a bra is no longer something lacy to fling around the room with abandon, it is a feat of structural engineering that defies the laws of physics (its life, Jim, but not as we know it). There was some debate about whether I wanted full coverage or merely balcony, but and I quote (before I had to go and have a bex and a nice lie down) "Since your nipples are obviously affected, full coverage might be the way to go". Yes, yes, Fuck off Miss Perky, one day gravity will happen to you and .... oh whatever, there was no come back, she was the one with the tape measure and I'm standing there half naked. Just one more reminder that we are on our way here.
Spot finds the whole full coverage disturbing, finally there was going to be something in this for him - huge breasts to at least look at. He's a simple soul.
In other news, yes, started bleeding again, well, spotting anyway. How did I know this would happen, well, its the weekend for starters, and I have no cup-cakes. At least I have the test drive of the the obs on Tuesday - that should come with an ultrasound, or two.
But where was I, yes, yesterday it finally became apparently obvious (its been sneaking up ok) that the ongoing battle with my breasts was well and truly lost. Between ivf and its outcome, there is no room left to pretend - these things have got huge!!!!
I was hoping I could hold out until maternity bras, but Friday night lying on the couch (its all a massive go-go here in our lives) and still falling out of my top made the trip to the shops inevitable.
So there we were, Spot the wonder boy, the fantastically pert 12 year old, and my breasts. Little miss pert suggested that maternity bras were not the way to go yet (finally someone as paranoid as me!!) and that I just buy a couple in a larger size to get me through until underwire was no longer a good idea. Now, just let me preface this with I like underwire - underwire has been my friend for many a year, underwire is a perfect way to start the day as far as I am concerned. I used to be a 12C, there used to be options, not anymore. Now, as a 14DD, a bra is no longer something lacy to fling around the room with abandon, it is a feat of structural engineering that defies the laws of physics (its life, Jim, but not as we know it). There was some debate about whether I wanted full coverage or merely balcony, but and I quote (before I had to go and have a bex and a nice lie down) "Since your nipples are obviously affected, full coverage might be the way to go". Yes, yes, Fuck off Miss Perky, one day gravity will happen to you and .... oh whatever, there was no come back, she was the one with the tape measure and I'm standing there half naked. Just one more reminder that we are on our way here.
Spot finds the whole full coverage disturbing, finally there was going to be something in this for him - huge breasts to at least look at. He's a simple soul.
In other news, yes, started bleeding again, well, spotting anyway. How did I know this would happen, well, its the weekend for starters, and I have no cup-cakes. At least I have the test drive of the the obs on Tuesday - that should come with an ultrasound, or two.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Things I forgot to do ..
Go figure.
I had to go this morning and have normal pregnancy screens, you know rubella, Hiv, those sorts of things that normal women do. It turns out that we haven't done those yet, too busy concentrating on hcgs and monitoring screens, and the like, but obs won't see you until you tell them that you don't have any massively communicable diseases that are really going to destroy their weekend.
It was a at a normal collection clinic, not my clinic (who are still holding up to the cutting me off thing). With normal people (well, as normal as you get in pathology clinics at 8 in the morning). You can tell I found this weird - I had to take a number???? And then wait? With normal people.
Although, it was the pathology clinic from my first round of IVF, years ago and the nurse was really pleased to see me back, so that makes up for something I suppose. This is the nurse who kept telling me about her five children, back when I believed that IVF might work and give me a baby, it was a very weird juxtaposition of "tell me more, oh beacon of hope that women actually get pregnant" and "would you just shut up about this, ummm infertile chick here".
So now we have to wait a few days, before we find out if I have anything that is going to cause a VERY unpleasant conversation between me and Spot the wonder boy. "Hey babe, anything you would like to share, hon". Seriously, can you imagine??? That would not go well.
No news on bean front - which I suppose is good news. I tell you, when I organise this evolution thing next time, its going to be soooo much better. A screen somewhere discreet and useful, just over the right hip for example, that tells you just what is going on - think about it, no 2ww crap, just a small sign that comes up with conception details as they occur "Implantation has occured" or "Sorry, you may now drink wine and have a cigarette"; constant updates, terminator style "limb buds developed on track"; "warning, progesterone dropping"; and beeping when an emergency room is required, like the beep that comes when I leave the fridge door open too long. Forget opposable thumbs - that would be useful.
I had to go this morning and have normal pregnancy screens, you know rubella, Hiv, those sorts of things that normal women do. It turns out that we haven't done those yet, too busy concentrating on hcgs and monitoring screens, and the like, but obs won't see you until you tell them that you don't have any massively communicable diseases that are really going to destroy their weekend.
It was a at a normal collection clinic, not my clinic (who are still holding up to the cutting me off thing). With normal people (well, as normal as you get in pathology clinics at 8 in the morning). You can tell I found this weird - I had to take a number???? And then wait? With normal people.
Although, it was the pathology clinic from my first round of IVF, years ago and the nurse was really pleased to see me back, so that makes up for something I suppose. This is the nurse who kept telling me about her five children, back when I believed that IVF might work and give me a baby, it was a very weird juxtaposition of "tell me more, oh beacon of hope that women actually get pregnant" and "would you just shut up about this, ummm infertile chick here".
So now we have to wait a few days, before we find out if I have anything that is going to cause a VERY unpleasant conversation between me and Spot the wonder boy. "Hey babe, anything you would like to share, hon". Seriously, can you imagine??? That would not go well.
No news on bean front - which I suppose is good news. I tell you, when I organise this evolution thing next time, its going to be soooo much better. A screen somewhere discreet and useful, just over the right hip for example, that tells you just what is going on - think about it, no 2ww crap, just a small sign that comes up with conception details as they occur "Implantation has occured" or "Sorry, you may now drink wine and have a cigarette"; constant updates, terminator style "limb buds developed on track"; "warning, progesterone dropping"; and beeping when an emergency room is required, like the beep that comes when I leave the fridge door open too long. Forget opposable thumbs - that would be useful.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
They are cutting me off!!!!!
I can't believe it but its true. They don't think that I really need any more u/s until the 12 week one in a couple of weeks. Everything is fine with bean, its still measuring small but still growing and still has a flicker thundering away. Its 9w 2d today according to the scan, but should be either 9w 5d or 10 w exactly depending on who you believe.
It was definitely wriggling this morning and even looks vaguely human, well, less like a bean sprout anyway.
Even with the cramping - which they blithely explain away as Prog4 - they don't want me back until I have something interesting to show them.
Despite the complete lack of pregnancy symptoms and the fact that I am emotionally unable to recognise that this is actually happening, it appears that my last refuge of insanity has decided that I no longer need that refuge, I am due to go somewhere else now. Hopefully somewhere with an ultrasound. I figure if I road test enough obs then I can keep having u/s for a couple of weeks. I wonder when you actually feel pregnant, or are actually able to acknowledge it, not even publicly, just in my head. Acknowledging it still feels like hubris, and the gods go hard on punishment for that. As long as I know this is not happening, there is a small chance that it might go on.
It was definitely wriggling this morning and even looks vaguely human, well, less like a bean sprout anyway.
Even with the cramping - which they blithely explain away as Prog4 - they don't want me back until I have something interesting to show them.
Despite the complete lack of pregnancy symptoms and the fact that I am emotionally unable to recognise that this is actually happening, it appears that my last refuge of insanity has decided that I no longer need that refuge, I am due to go somewhere else now. Hopefully somewhere with an ultrasound. I figure if I road test enough obs then I can keep having u/s for a couple of weeks. I wonder when you actually feel pregnant, or are actually able to acknowledge it, not even publicly, just in my head. Acknowledging it still feels like hubris, and the gods go hard on punishment for that. As long as I know this is not happening, there is a small chance that it might go on.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Choices, choices, choices
Well, we got through Sunday. It turns out that cupcakes are an excellent way to ward off any bleeding. You might think that sounds odd, but the only thing different about last Sunday was that I ate my own body weight in cup-cakes so logically - that must be it. I am thinking of marketing it as a talisman against all woes.
You would think that this would help, but not so much. Cramps are so much worse today, and insomnia has moved from a minor inconvenience to fatigue that makes my body ache. Still no actual pregnancy symptoms and at 9w 4 d, I am starting to despair. And no, lovely people, that does not make me lucky, or happy, or any positive word. When you tell me your stories of morning sickness so bad that you were hospitalised for 4 weeks, I do not feel like I have avoided something awful, I just get upset that I have missed that experience again (I am fairly resigned to the fact that I am mad!!). I spent an awful long time trying to be pregnant, is it too much to ask to actually feel pregnant.
On a related note, surprisingly enough, my infertility does not define all my political choices, nor my entire life (well, I try not to let it anyway!!). Please let me explain - RU486, the termination pill was made legal in Australia over 3 years ago, to provide options for women seeking a non-surgical termination. Yesterday, I repeat yesterday, the first Dr's licences to actually prescribe the drug were provided to 16 Dr's around Australia. Yesterday afternoon, I received an email and a phone call from a friend who suddenly revealed herself as a Right to Lifer, and was part of an organising party for a rally to protest. When I politely declined, she was flabbergasted (its true, she gasted). "How could my experience not make me value the sanctity of life?" It's funny, when they talk about that, they don't seem to mean the sanctity of the mother's life.
She got cranky when I pointed out that my experience was much more likely to make me value terminations so that I never attended another baby shower again in my life, nor had to endure another pregnancy announcement from someone who accidentally got pregnant, (they tell me that sex has something to do with it??) But seriously, folks, this choice thing is a hard thing, and I am not sure that it is something that our society is always good at. A women's right to choose is just that, and we must learn to really support all choices that women make, not just the ones we get to make, or the ones we like.
The other great debate (screw the GFC, we talk about the important stuff here) that appears to be raging is the homebirth debate. The Federal Government has recently introduced legislation that will prevent women from having midwives at home births therefore rendering homebirth effectively illegal in Australia. Would I consider ever having a homebirth? Hell, no, I am trying to work out how they can put me in a induced coma for the last 3 months, but I do support a women's right to birth her child however she feels like. It would appear however that this is a naive view and I have to come down on one side or the other, be branded and outcast either way.
It goes on:
women who breast feed versus women who bottle feed
women who use cloth nappies versus women who use disposables
co sleepers versus cot sleepers
women who work in their home versus women are employed elsewhere
women who use formal childcare versus women who don't
women who elect ceasarians versus vaginal birth.
At the end of the day, we are all just trying to get by and make the best choices we can, for ourselves, our families, our friends. Its about time we stopped beating each other up over that.
Ps. No, I still won't go to your rally :)
You would think that this would help, but not so much. Cramps are so much worse today, and insomnia has moved from a minor inconvenience to fatigue that makes my body ache. Still no actual pregnancy symptoms and at 9w 4 d, I am starting to despair. And no, lovely people, that does not make me lucky, or happy, or any positive word. When you tell me your stories of morning sickness so bad that you were hospitalised for 4 weeks, I do not feel like I have avoided something awful, I just get upset that I have missed that experience again (I am fairly resigned to the fact that I am mad!!). I spent an awful long time trying to be pregnant, is it too much to ask to actually feel pregnant.
On a related note, surprisingly enough, my infertility does not define all my political choices, nor my entire life (well, I try not to let it anyway!!). Please let me explain - RU486, the termination pill was made legal in Australia over 3 years ago, to provide options for women seeking a non-surgical termination. Yesterday, I repeat yesterday, the first Dr's licences to actually prescribe the drug were provided to 16 Dr's around Australia. Yesterday afternoon, I received an email and a phone call from a friend who suddenly revealed herself as a Right to Lifer, and was part of an organising party for a rally to protest. When I politely declined, she was flabbergasted (its true, she gasted). "How could my experience not make me value the sanctity of life?" It's funny, when they talk about that, they don't seem to mean the sanctity of the mother's life.
She got cranky when I pointed out that my experience was much more likely to make me value terminations so that I never attended another baby shower again in my life, nor had to endure another pregnancy announcement from someone who accidentally got pregnant, (they tell me that sex has something to do with it??) But seriously, folks, this choice thing is a hard thing, and I am not sure that it is something that our society is always good at. A women's right to choose is just that, and we must learn to really support all choices that women make, not just the ones we get to make, or the ones we like.
The other great debate (screw the GFC, we talk about the important stuff here) that appears to be raging is the homebirth debate. The Federal Government has recently introduced legislation that will prevent women from having midwives at home births therefore rendering homebirth effectively illegal in Australia. Would I consider ever having a homebirth? Hell, no, I am trying to work out how they can put me in a induced coma for the last 3 months, but I do support a women's right to birth her child however she feels like. It would appear however that this is a naive view and I have to come down on one side or the other, be branded and outcast either way.
It goes on:
women who breast feed versus women who bottle feed
women who use cloth nappies versus women who use disposables
co sleepers versus cot sleepers
women who work in their home versus women are employed elsewhere
women who use formal childcare versus women who don't
women who elect ceasarians versus vaginal birth.
At the end of the day, we are all just trying to get by and make the best choices we can, for ourselves, our families, our friends. Its about time we stopped beating each other up over that.
Ps. No, I still won't go to your rally :)
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Sunday, bloody Sunday
I hate Sunday's.
I used to like them, lazy days when you had finished all your bits and pieces and could just potter around. Days when you could cook roasts and deserts and treats, and generally be slow.
Now, not so much.
Sunday, for some unknown reason, is when I start bleeding again. Usually Sunday night around 10pm, just as I am going to bed. No quiet Sunday night for me, just bright red blood. Sunday nights are spend in ED or panicing before ringing the clinic on Monday morning. By Thursday or Friday the spotting has stopped and then ... yep, Sunday.
I find myself praying, trying to remember lost words from my childhood, or a patron saint of pregnancies, or a god to whom a sacrificial turtle dove will save my baby. According to my research, I'm not sure that most gods are useful here, not being much good at bargaining, being into that all Karma thing, but I am hoping for a decent if-then exchange. If I promise to sacrifice then ... I can definitely find some people to sacrifice, in case anyone has a god that might be useful.
I'm quietly panicing today. The news from the wires hasn't been good, and I am 9w 2d. Its been 4 days since my last u/s and I keep getting mugged as I meander down memory lane. I have never made it this far before, never got a heartbeat in the right place, never had a bean stick around this long, which of course, just makes Sunday's worse. Is this the bleeding that is going to start the chain of "no longer bleeding, just miscarrying now"?
And its two days to my next u/s ...
I used to like them, lazy days when you had finished all your bits and pieces and could just potter around. Days when you could cook roasts and deserts and treats, and generally be slow.
Now, not so much.
Sunday, for some unknown reason, is when I start bleeding again. Usually Sunday night around 10pm, just as I am going to bed. No quiet Sunday night for me, just bright red blood. Sunday nights are spend in ED or panicing before ringing the clinic on Monday morning. By Thursday or Friday the spotting has stopped and then ... yep, Sunday.
I find myself praying, trying to remember lost words from my childhood, or a patron saint of pregnancies, or a god to whom a sacrificial turtle dove will save my baby. According to my research, I'm not sure that most gods are useful here, not being much good at bargaining, being into that all Karma thing, but I am hoping for a decent if-then exchange. If I promise to sacrifice then ... I can definitely find some people to sacrifice, in case anyone has a god that might be useful.
I'm quietly panicing today. The news from the wires hasn't been good, and I am 9w 2d. Its been 4 days since my last u/s and I keep getting mugged as I meander down memory lane. I have never made it this far before, never got a heartbeat in the right place, never had a bean stick around this long, which of course, just makes Sunday's worse. Is this the bleeding that is going to start the chain of "no longer bleeding, just miscarrying now"?
And its two days to my next u/s ...
Friday, August 7, 2009
Grieving in ivf land
Its a strange place this IVF world. Couple it with the internets and its just downright odd. There are a number of brilliant woman out there who are on this same journey, some in very similar places to me, some who have graduated or found other things in their life. They provide hope, and joy, and understanding, and somewhere that I don't have to explain how crappy this space is, even if they are complete strangers. I read their blogs religiously, and occasionally pass them around as a better example of what I am trying to explain I feel to my lovely friends who mostly don't have a fucking clue.
Sprogblogger and Mo and Will, I am so terribly, terribly sorry for your loss. These much loved babies have died, somewhere between 8-9 weeks, and you should know that all of us out here in webland grieve with you and for you. Its so fucking unfair, and horrible, and I wish I could make it better for you.
Bad news comes in three's right? Now I am waiting for the other shoe to drop. Hug your loved ones close tonight.
Sprogblogger and Mo and Will, I am so terribly, terribly sorry for your loss. These much loved babies have died, somewhere between 8-9 weeks, and you should know that all of us out here in webland grieve with you and for you. Its so fucking unfair, and horrible, and I wish I could make it better for you.
Bad news comes in three's right? Now I am waiting for the other shoe to drop. Hug your loved ones close tonight.
Good luck Miss Jo
Everything is crossed for you.
May this be the time that your angel finds it way home.
Lots of love, we are thinking of you and praying for you.
May this be the time that your angel finds it way home.
Lots of love, we are thinking of you and praying for you.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
8w 3 days
I love days that start with an u/s. Regardless of anything else, they are so reassuring for approx 7 hours until I realise that bean has died again.
Bean still not, dead, that is. I am not sure how I will cope when my u/s tap is turned off. Its only a few more weeks and I will be under an Obs. He didn't even want to see me until 20 weeks, but the FS has written him a nice note to tell him that I am clinically insane and can't go that long without making sure that my Bean is OK. She phrased it better, used some nice latin sounding words, and mentioned high-risk, and clotting factors and natural killer cells and immune issues. It would have been shorter and more honest if I had written it
" I am a paranoid neurotic and cannot possible go more than 7 days without some reassurance that my baby has not died".
Still, bean is still small, but still growing (a weeks worth, in a week, fancy that). heartbeat is 173 bpm. Spot is confident that he saw bean yawning - I will concede a vague wriggle, but he is stoked. I am concerned that I am turning Bean into a ruthless extrovert who desperately needs attention "hell, Mama where is my close-up", but in the meantime, the little thing wriggle a bit. This will keep me sane for about 2 days, until reality kicks in.
Part of my problem is that I have NO symptoms - apart from the continual cramping (trust me, hardly reassuring) and the incessant hunger. There is no tiredness, no fatigue, no nausea. I want morning sickness, I want to fall asleep on the couch at 7pm. Hell, I can do that while not pregnant - why not now. I want huge breasts, with massive nipples and veins like road maps. I want to not want to eat everything in sight (why thank you, Mr Prednisolone).
Right, then, not so much. Fine, I understand.
At least I got my u/s this morning. I wonder if I can possibly get one of those machines for home, screw the home doppler machine, a full on u/s machine. Where's a scientologist when you need one.
Bean still not, dead, that is. I am not sure how I will cope when my u/s tap is turned off. Its only a few more weeks and I will be under an Obs. He didn't even want to see me until 20 weeks, but the FS has written him a nice note to tell him that I am clinically insane and can't go that long without making sure that my Bean is OK. She phrased it better, used some nice latin sounding words, and mentioned high-risk, and clotting factors and natural killer cells and immune issues. It would have been shorter and more honest if I had written it
" I am a paranoid neurotic and cannot possible go more than 7 days without some reassurance that my baby has not died".
Still, bean is still small, but still growing (a weeks worth, in a week, fancy that). heartbeat is 173 bpm. Spot is confident that he saw bean yawning - I will concede a vague wriggle, but he is stoked. I am concerned that I am turning Bean into a ruthless extrovert who desperately needs attention "hell, Mama where is my close-up", but in the meantime, the little thing wriggle a bit. This will keep me sane for about 2 days, until reality kicks in.
Part of my problem is that I have NO symptoms - apart from the continual cramping (trust me, hardly reassuring) and the incessant hunger. There is no tiredness, no fatigue, no nausea. I want morning sickness, I want to fall asleep on the couch at 7pm. Hell, I can do that while not pregnant - why not now. I want huge breasts, with massive nipples and veins like road maps. I want to not want to eat everything in sight (why thank you, Mr Prednisolone).
Right, then, not so much. Fine, I understand.
At least I got my u/s this morning. I wonder if I can possibly get one of those machines for home, screw the home doppler machine, a full on u/s machine. Where's a scientologist when you need one.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Congratulations Mr and Mrs
Congratulations indeed.
Surprise email from great friends this morning. On their holiday away, they popped into City Hall and got married. Sort of elopement and honeymoon in one. Its awesome and its so them. I'm so excited for them.
Of course, this has destroyed my birth plan (why, yes, it is all about me). I was due to be their bridesmaid in Feb, almost a month before Bean was due, obviously this meant that I would go into labour two days before.
Now what.
But congratulations anway. Its nice to just feel happy for a change, for something that isn't directly related to me, or my bean.
Surprise email from great friends this morning. On their holiday away, they popped into City Hall and got married. Sort of elopement and honeymoon in one. Its awesome and its so them. I'm so excited for them.
Of course, this has destroyed my birth plan (why, yes, it is all about me). I was due to be their bridesmaid in Feb, almost a month before Bean was due, obviously this meant that I would go into labour two days before.
Now what.
But congratulations anway. Its nice to just feel happy for a change, for something that isn't directly related to me, or my bean.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Zen destroyed in five easy seconds
My Dad phones today to tell me the happy news!!
My SIL has gone and got herself pregnant. Accidently. With her third.
Surely by now, she should know how babies are made. Her baby is due 2 days before mine. So, my poor little bean won't even be the centre of attention. I know she has done this deliberately. OK, so she didn't actually know that I was trying or pregnant. But, thats not the point. She has done this deliberately.
And she is just out there, telling people. Obviously, the concept of miscarriage doesn't occur to her. No, no multiple hcgs for her, no frantic ultrasounds. She poas, and then runs around telling people!!! Dad has known for a while, but avoided telling me until we were sure about Bean, but, no she is just telling people.
Spot finds this totally funny.
So much for zen.
My SIL has gone and got herself pregnant. Accidently. With her third.
Surely by now, she should know how babies are made. Her baby is due 2 days before mine. So, my poor little bean won't even be the centre of attention. I know she has done this deliberately. OK, so she didn't actually know that I was trying or pregnant. But, thats not the point. She has done this deliberately.
And she is just out there, telling people. Obviously, the concept of miscarriage doesn't occur to her. No, no multiple hcgs for her, no frantic ultrasounds. She poas, and then runs around telling people!!! Dad has known for a while, but avoided telling me until we were sure about Bean, but, no she is just telling people.
Spot finds this totally funny.
So much for zen.
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