And we're off

It was a little grim to say the least waiting for my period after miscarriage.  I had PMS symptoms 24/7 for almost 4 weeks, still had some pregnancy symptoms and felt completely rubbish.  Not to mention snappy.  Finally on Saturday 4 June it appeared.  A nice little dragging sensation in my abdomen and then whoosh!  Heaviest one I've experienced since my myomectomy to remove those excessively large fibroids.  This is where it helps having a good friend who's Matron of the Emergency Gynaecology Unit and Head of Midwifery at a London hospital. Heavy periods after miscarriage, she tells me, are quite normal.  So, with some relief I settle in and wait for step number two - ovulation.  Those of you who've read my blog before will know that I'm a Day 10 girl in that department, but who knows this time around?  I have a huge box of test sticks to insert into my digital test kit and so I'm ready and able to test pretty much every day from Day 6.

So I tested.  And tested, And tested.  Just beginning to give up thinking that perhaps nature had decided for me that enough was enough and then bingo. Today on Day 12, this morning to be precise at 7 am, there he was - the little smiley face.  If I was a religious person I'd thank God.  As it goes I will just thank my body for playing ball. 

I know this seems like a strange decision, but I have decided to wait this month and begin again in early July.  I didn't have to medically speaking, but if I am honest I didn't feel quite right until really recently and I am so sick of being penniless.  All in all it seemed the right thing for me to do.  Not that I've got time to play about with.  However, it would be a waste of money if I'm not physically feeling on top of the world and I quite clearly wasn't. I was suffering quite extreme fatigue, a kind of juddery low blood sugar feeling and had a few headaches. I want my last three chances to be good ones and mentally I also needed to sort a few things out in my head.  It's getting closer and closer to end game for me, but I don't want that affecting my state of mind when I go for an IUI because that creates a Catch 22 situation.  It's all about not putting too much pressure on yourself.  I keep thinking back to the fact that last time I had an IUI, and it was successful, I really didn't feel that bothered or stressed by it because I assumed it wasn't going to work and devoted my energies into finding out about medication for next time.  It's interesting that my state of mind probably allowed me to relax so that it did work.  We have to be mindful how much pressure we do place on ourselves, particularly as we carry that weight alone, financially and mentally and it feels like so much is at stake. We must relax.

I have been trying to relax this past month and I've been on a few dates actually. Before there is any rejoicing about this, they were all disasters.  One guy was a 54 year old masquerading as someone in his forties, another was far too far right of centre for me to entertain and looked as if he'd have apoplexy if a hair was out of place.  I was just checking it all out really and boy am I glad it's not a priority for me right now.  The 54 year old explained, in no uncertain terms, that it wasn't just body clock reasons that men required women to be at least 6 years younger after 38, it was also because 'we want a nice firm body and good breasts'.  I'll just let that comment settle as I'm sure you will be with me in thinking 'excuse me?'  I don't think I even need to comment on his comment, do I?  I am constantly surprised by balding men, weathered men over 40 and their appalling attitude to women of the same age, who actually look a hundred times better than they do! The age dodger proudly told me that he was so relaxed about meeting women on dates now (read for that he didn't give a toss) that he turned up in a cardigan with holes in it. The irony.

I digress. Suffice to say that I am gladly leaving all that behind again to prepare for July's IUI now I know I am still ovulating.  Got the Well Woman Pre-Conception supplements on the go, the exercise plan has notched up to a yoga session, a Pilate's session, 3 spin classes and a body conditioning class and the self esteem is slowly on the way up.  No thanks to the misogynist daters. I have to confess that I have had an alcoholic beverage or two this last month, but frankly I needed a little blow out.  That, however, has now stopped and I'm favouring the nettle tea in place of the Earl Grey.  Difficult for me as I am a total tea head, so I'm actually having withdrawal.  Finally, my sympathetic GP has redone some of my fertility tests and has confirmed that my FSH is still under 10 and that there are no issues with my endometrium, or anything else.  Of course, the fact that I'm still producing a healthy number of eggs is no guarantee that the eggs themselves are any good.  This I know, but at least I can continue on this path for a little bit longer knowing that there is a chance.

And breathe...

I had a hell of a struggle with predicting ovulation this time round.  What possessed me to do two tests at the same time?  I'll tell you what - a complete inability to believe that new products work. Typical know-it-all Virgo.  So, there I am at 8pm on Day 9 just making sure there's nothing doing before the usual smiley face on Day 10.  I pull off the little pink cap from the inserted pee stick and the whole stick comes out of the test which goes nuts and flashes 'error!' at me.  Ok, I think, let's not panic.  I will drink nothing until 10pm and do it again when the test device has gone back to normal.  And that's what I did.  Except, me being me, I used the old digital test and the new one at the same time,  just to be sure.  Big mistake.  I end up with one smiley face and one blank circle.  What am I supposed to do with that? I ring the clinic and leave a message.  I'm flying out on Day 10 until Day 11 to visit another clinic, so it's not a complete disaster.  Almost as soon as I've done it, I realise I have strong ovualtion cramps and I am overheating like nobody's business.  I am definitely ovulating, but am completely freaked out that it has happened late on Day 9.  In 10 months of testing it's never been on any other day, only Day 10.

At 7am I've checked in at Gatwick and am on the phone to Stork in a state of total confusion whilst wrestling with a Pret-a-Manger Muesli and Granola Pot.  Doubting Thomas here has taken another two tests at 5am with morning urine.  Both negative.  Rising panic.  My abdomen feels fit to burst and I know I'm ovulating.  We decide that I should stop taking any more tests, trust the previous night's positive one and pay attention to what my body is telling me.  And breathe.

Once at the clinic at 1.45, I realise I am super stressed.  The lovely midwife calms me down, plies me with harmonising tea and sets to work.  She confirms that everything looks pretty good in the 'ready and fertile' department, so I relax.  When I'm done with my 'chill out' session after insemination,  I walk 30 minutes to my hotel and crash out in bed for 2 hours straight.  It's all good.

The next day I pitch up at Copenhagen Fertility Centre for my free consultation with Dr Jan.  I've pretty much decided that after 3 failed unmedicated IUIs I must move on.  So, I'm here to find out the possibilities of being treated with meds.  What I discover blows me over.  Not only does Dr. Jan write me a prescription there and then for Clomid, with specific instructions, he beams as he tells me it's 1200DKK cheaper than Stork.  I actually can't believe it.  That's a whole £150!  Back at home I ponder how I obtain the drugs with an overseas prescription.  Pharmacies here can refuse to dispense so I've booked myself an appointment with my GP so he can countersign and while I'm at it I'm asking about Progesterone pessaries.  My lining is dicey and with Clomid it will thin even more.  I'm convinced I need Progesterone to boost that lining.  We will see.

So, back to the aftermath of IUI.  It's day 5 post IUI and I have a strange, lower abdominal dull ache.  A bit like constipation.  Are they post procedure cramps, are they hints of implantation or a stretching uterus?  I know, let's drive ourselves nuts thinking about it!  Step away from Google, Fertility Friends and all medical forums.  After all, I only have two days to wait before my beloved PMS should kick in.  By Day 7 I will have the sore boobs and mood swings if it's not to be, but here's hoping...

Anything but a month off

Well, this was supposed to be a stress free month off to build up enough finance for more donor insemination and to try out fertility acupuncture.  I did put away some money and I did try the acupuncture - two sessions so far.  I have no earthly idea whether or not it has worked, or will work, but I'm due another session next week just after my period begins.  It's a weird sensation being a pincushion; I had a strange electric shock like feeling in my right leg, almost as if the nerves were being woken up and a dull ache around the other points. Once the needles were in the sensations calmed down.  My acupuncturist has worked specifically with fertility and had lots of advice to impart - nettle tea, Royal Jelly and Omega 3 were just some of the things she suggested .  If nothing else, it's been informative.  I did feel very relaxed afterwards, however that feeling was soon obliterated thanks to a recall to the Breast Cancer Unit.  A few months ago I experienced pains in my breast and went to my GP who referred me to the hospital.  Best to check it out.  He's a good sort my GP.  That visit resulted in a mammogram and I thought that would be the end of it.  Of course not! I had to go back to check out two masses they'd found.  Cue ultrasound, biopsy and disbelief.  How much bad luck can a person have in two years?  I won't go into detail, but my second trimester miscarriage and relationship breakup were just two of a string of bad things that I experienced, quite literally, one after another.  I must be a reincarnation of somebody really, really evil for this level of bad luck to continue.  A relentless stream of rubbish. It's bloody hard to stay positive and after a while you just get numb.  When the next bad thing occurs you feel nothing, but possibly a bit of 'here we go again'. I can accept it when I've had a hand in my own bad luck, but bereavement, miscarriage and illness kind of get slung at you.  My results will be back this week.  If it's good news I can proceed with insemination number 3.  Or to be more precise I can proceed to round 3 if I ovulate on payday or the day before.  If it's two days before, I'll be going nowhere.  And...if it's not good news I have absolutely no idea what I will do, but it will mean a final goodbye to any baby hopes.

So I wait.  Not really stress free or relaxed now and wondering whether I should just give up.  Friends are popping babies out left, right and centre, all with doting partners in tow.  I am pleased for them, but I fully admit that it makes me feel crap.  I can't help but wonder if, at 43, I am a total lost cause, regular ovulation and good FSH aside.  Surely, the Universe is trying to tell me something.  Something like 'Get over it, you are not going to be a mother and you will be on your own for the rest of your life, short or otherwise.'  Possibly very true.  Then I think about Japan.  I'm not homeless, not freezing to death and not about to be infected by radiation.  So yes, I should get over it.

Early morning flight to Copenhagen

Perhaps it's just my ill luck, but flights tomorrow are outrageously expensive.  Is it a special day in Denmark or is the evil Jinx Fairy having a laugh?  I have had to hang on till I ovulated so I don't end up as stressed as last time. My body hasn't let me down.  As of 8pm tonight, there's the little smiley face ready for Day 10.  I should have just booked my flight last month after all and then I wouldn't be paying as much for a flight as I am for the IUI!  So here I am, twenty minutes after seeing the cheery chappy in the pee stick window, desperately trying to book a flight.  I've got one, but am having to go all round the houses to get back to London.  Still, I've never been to Frankfurt. I am sure the airport terminal is very nice.

This month I really am down to the wire with money.  Every penny is acounted for and I'm a little scared that I might not be able to manage for the last two weeks of this month on what I've left myself.  However, somehow I will.  It could be worth it after all and if it means simple, basic foods, then so be it.  At least not drinking alcohol is a major saving.  So Copenhagen here I come.  4000 Danish Kroner, check. 200 spare kroner for a coffee and a sandwich, check. Passport, check. Call to Stork Klinik to book the slot, check. Will to live, check...

End game for this month

Ah well, tested today 14 days past ovulation and it's negative.  I can feel a particularly nasty period coming on.  Dragging sensation in my abdomen that's really very pronounced, hot head and incredibly wiped out - way more than usual.  I suppose it's the stress and anxiety of the last few weeks, waiting for ovulation, dashing over to Denmark and then desperately 'listening' to every change in my body for the last two weeks.  I maintain that I did conceive, but am sure that the embryo just did not attach.  However, I've no way of proving it.  I feel worried now because the last two times I became pregnant it was immediate; the first time I had unprotected sex in each case I fell pregnant.  My negativity is shouting 'if it hasn't happened the first time this time, it ain't going to!'  It's also saying 'yeah, they were right about the thin endometrium - give up now and don't waste your money.'  But I will.  'Waste' money that is.  I will keep going until my 6 tries are up because I know I want this.

So, the next step is to pick myself up and focus on the next ovulation date.  I can do that.  It's just a particularly miserable weekend because I'm feeling physically rubbish and it's two days to pay day.  Going to drag myself out for a long walk and then have coffee and cake.  I was going to treat myself to a glass of wine, but I've done so well staying off the alcohol since New Year that it seems silly.  However, I think I need a pick me up and it's a clear eleven days until ovulation.  It looks like I'll come on tomorrow or Monday so I would expect my ovulation on the 9th or 10th of February (almost always on Day 10).  At least this time I won't have to pay the weekend insemination fee.  Silver linings and all that.

I had no idea of the level of mental energy involved in this. I wish every woman going through this the stamina to keep it up.  For me the days leading up to my next ovulation will consist of pilates, the gym, lots of good foods and a steely resolve.  I will try my hardest not to be so obsessed next time.  No doubt the surge of adrenalin this last month has probably done nothing to help.

What I learned this week: Waiting is grim

I'm convinced I have PMS.  I've been through a whole range of symptoms so I no longer trust my judgement.  I'm due to test tomorrow, Day 14 after insemination,  but my period could be due as late as Monday as my cycle is between 24-27 days.  Hmmm. This is the most peculiar kind of torture, which makes me wonder if I have the metal to cope with the two week wait, post insemination, for another 6 months.    Part of me intuitively feels that I'm pregnant and part of me is sure my period is on its way.  The truth is that reading forum after forum, articles and comments on pregnancy sites is a contradictory and insane thing to do.  It drives you nuts in the end.  The only conclusion I can come to is that there isn't one.  You just have to wait.  For the record,  the cramps I had last week have given way to a more familiar kind, but I feel a different sort of fatigue, bloating and indigestion from my usual PMS.  What to make of that?

I will be gutted if I get my period, but like everyone else I will just have to look forward to the next ovulation. It is a little ridiculous to expect it to happen the first time and certainly at my age. Somehow, even though I'm often very cynical about most things, I was very positive about this.  When the stakes are high it seems the mind can play incredible tricks on you. The power of suggestion!

I'm giving myself 6 tries and then I will be forced to draw a line under it.  It's the most sensible time frame given my prospects, my doctor's comments, my age and me.  I know how much I can take.  Perhaps I will spend my next 'two week wait' devising a Plan B for after the 6 months are over.  That way, I will obsess less about every little twinge I'm feeling and think about  life without a biological child as a different path, if not a chosen one.

The best laid plans...

Between my consultation and my period I was stressing out watching the cost of easyjet flights go up and up.  For the last 6 months my digital ovulation tests had shown that, no matter what, I ovulated on Day 10 of my cycle.  As my cycle was between 24-27 days each month, I thought this would be a piece of cake. However,  watching the pennies meant I couldn't risk buying flights only to ovulate on a later or earlier date or worse, not ovulate at all.  Equally my budget wasn't going to stretch to stupidly priced last minute flights.  What to do?  I gambled.  The night before I was expecting to ovulate, I booked a flight and a night's accommodation ( remarkably good, chic and cheap - Wakeup Copenhagen at £60 a night). I'd already booked the time off work. I figured I'd give myself a two day chance and also a proper chance to find everything and see a bit of Copenhagen.  However, the voice of doom began to whisper at 6am the next day - no ovulation and a flight to catch.  Once I arrived I tried again, with two pee sticks for good measure.  Nothing.  I calculated I still had that night and the next morning before the game was up and I'd wasted my money on flights.  I could feel the usual crampy tugs and knew I was ovulating, but the stick said no.  I wandered round a really rather beautiful city, took in an exhibition at the Museum, ate great food, but went to bed disappointed.  This was not looking good.  The next morning at 6am my body was not cooperating, so I had a good cry and hit the sack for a couple of more hours, trying my best to think of it as a 'learning curve'.  Mmm.  Like I needed more of those.  Two hours later, I half heartedly tried again and there it was, a little smiley face in the window.  Cue sobs of relief.  Appointment booked, off I trotted to sight-see, this time with a smile on my face. 

At 2pm, Danish time, I arrived at the clinic fluttering with nerves.  The clinic is a stone's throw from the city centre metro station Kongens Nytorv, a 35K and 15 minute ride from the airport.  A lovely midwife ushered me into a swish room and we sat and had a chat.  I poured out my tale of stress and she smiled knowingly.  Apparently this is all too common and some women don't ovulate at all until they're back home after wasting flights, especially the first time.  So I was lucky.  The learning curve?  Don't bloody book your flights until the smiley face appears.  You then have 24-36 hours. 

The whole process took 15 minutes, plus a 30 minute chill-out lie down afterwards.  It didn't hurt, was remarkably easy and very well explained.  She also told me everything 'looked good', which was so nice to hear after constant sharp intakes of breathe about my age over here.  All I have to do now is wait 14 days and I can test.  Flying back I felt a bit crampy, but this is perfectly normal.  As I flew I considered what I'd just done.  It has to be the weirdest thing I will ever do, but I don't regret it for a minute.  I'm hopeful, excited and restrained all at the same time.  I have been pregnant before, but now for me the issue is whether or not my endometrium - after a second trimester miscarriage and an abdominal myomectomy to remove large fibroids -  is thick enough to welcome any fortunate fertilised egg.  We will see.

The next time I blog, we'll all know..