I know I said I'd next blog when I'd done the test on the 29th, but I couldn't resist. A couple of days after the IUI in Copenhagen I began to get weird tight, pinchy abdominal cramps. Not painful, but accompanied by excessive gas. Nice. Suddenly I can rival a teenage boy in the fart department. I'll stop short of trying to light them though, for everyone's sake. I recognised these signs as being identical to the very early stages of my previous pregnancy. Those signs are still here and now I am having vivid dreams, slight nausea, sore breasts, snappiness and fatigue that could floor an Ox. Although it's only one week and one day since I had the insemination I feel something's 'up'. If I'm not pregnant then I must be coming down with something. So I started over analysing. Of course I did. Perhaps the cramps are just my uterus reacting to the IUI, I'm getting a cold, have eaten too much rubbish and my swollen boobs and snappiness are just the usual signs of PMT. Or... I have conceived, hence the signs, but the fertilised egg couldn't attach and I'm not going to be pregnant. Positivity tempered with some very strong negativity - always a winning combination. I'm unable to think about anything else and super alert to very little bodily change. I find myself actually happy when I feel so exhausted I could sleep on concrete or nauseous when I'm on the bus. I don't dare count my chickens before they are hatched, but I can't help being hopeful. It's the kind of thing I shared with my boyfriend the last time, but this time I don't have that luxury. So I share with one of my friends who knows and post here.
It made me realise that there is a whole other consideration about who you tell and when. There are many friends who would be brilliant about this, and were, when I mentioned it as a possibility months ago. It's interesting that now I'm actually doing it I have mostly told friends that I don't see often and whom I'm not particularly close to, with one exception. I suppose I don't want to have to answer questions every month about whether or not I'm pregnant. I have also made the decision not to tell anyone else in the event I do get pregnant till I'm at least 16 weeks or showing. The reason for this is a bit daft, but I lost my last baby thanks to huge fibroids degenerating in the second trimester, well after the supposed safety of week 12, so I suppose I'm being over cautious. I don't want to jinx it. That's the truth. I think I'll be too scared to buy anything if I do manage to stay pregnant past 4 months, for the same reason. I have this vision of me, hugely pregnant, ordering a cot and other baby furniture from IKEA at the eleventh hour and then not being able to put it all together. I remember my mother telling me that when I arrived she was so unprepared that my Grandpa was sent to buy a moses basket on the day I arrived. This was all because she'd had two miscarriages followed by a stillborn before me. I really understand this now - don't tempt fate. Crazy behaviour nonetheless.
So, I have 6 days left to wait! Here's hoping the pregnancy signs continue and that I don't get a cold, the flu or my period. Mine's a helping of cramps and bloating with a side order of nausea please. Throw in some attachment bleeding for good measure. For anyone else on the same track, I wish this for you too.
Copenhagen January 2011
A cold November in Copenhagen...
Sunday, 23 January 2011
Monday, 17 January 2011
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..
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..
Sunday, 16 January 2011
The Consultation
The strangest thing in the world is discussing your most intimate details with a perfect stranger in a foreign country, but that's what comes with a consultation about donor inesmination via telephone in Denmark. On December 29th I offered up statistics about me that not even my ex boyfriend knows. Come to think of it nor did I know these facts before I actively pursued this. When I examine American sites or posts relating to fertility and pregnancy it is clear to me that women over the pond know what's behind every fertility related abbreviation including facts, figures and what they all mean. I put it down to the fact that we do not have gynaecologists here. You go to your GP and you can get referred to one, but if it's a pregnancy you're after before you've found a problem, you have no chance of getting access to a gynae. Unless of course you pay through the nose for it privately. So, you will understand that this process has made be into a virtual expert. I can now post on an American forum and know what I'm talking about. I know that you need to get an FSH (hormone level ) under 10 to be in with a chance. Mine came out at 7. Phew. You need all your blood tests to get the go ahead for insemination - Hep A, Hep B, Hep C, HIV, Chlamydia and often some clinics ask for more than this. You also need to know that, here in the UK, a Hep B test will usually only be a surface antigen test and you will need the ANTI-HBc test for core antigens too. This caused me more stress, so if you're going ahead check that your doctor asks for both. You need to get all these off to the clinic well before your consultation and first insemination. Get your doctor to do every test he can to determine your fertility and get an ultrasound. You will need to know how thick your endometrium is and whether your fallopian tubes are ok.
So to the telephone consultation. It's pretty simple really. After the medical and health questions there are lifestyle, food and habit checks. Are you eating plenty of fish, veg etc. and have you quit the booze? With a reduction of 33% in fertility if you drink, yes, I've quit the booze. And by the way, if you're a smoker that's a 55% reduction in fertility, so do the maths if you do both. This is your chance to ask all the questions you want, so use it. For me it was more about the ovulation tests and when to book flights. This seemed the stressful part. However, don't stress. The Danish midwives at the clinic I used, Stork Klinik, are very easy to talk to, speak exceptionally good English and don't consider any question too stupid. This is good, if you're like me and alert to everything that could go wrong. Even at just £500 a pop, it's a stretch for me, so I do not want to be penniless for months without a proper stab at this.
Consultation over - now I wait for ovulation. I'm expecting it on January 14th. The next time I blog, I should have had my 'shot' of Denmark's best.
So to the telephone consultation. It's pretty simple really. After the medical and health questions there are lifestyle, food and habit checks. Are you eating plenty of fish, veg etc. and have you quit the booze? With a reduction of 33% in fertility if you drink, yes, I've quit the booze. And by the way, if you're a smoker that's a 55% reduction in fertility, so do the maths if you do both. This is your chance to ask all the questions you want, so use it. For me it was more about the ovulation tests and when to book flights. This seemed the stressful part. However, don't stress. The Danish midwives at the clinic I used, Stork Klinik, are very easy to talk to, speak exceptionally good English and don't consider any question too stupid. This is good, if you're like me and alert to everything that could go wrong. Even at just £500 a pop, it's a stretch for me, so I do not want to be penniless for months without a proper stab at this.
Consultation over - now I wait for ovulation. I'm expecting it on January 14th. The next time I blog, I should have had my 'shot' of Denmark's best.
Thursday, 30 December 2010
Donor insemination and the single girl in the UK - A reality check!
Step One - The Decision to Go It Alone
You've done your research (American based blogs, forums and websites), read books from women who've done it already (all American it seems) and you've reached a decision to proceed. Bravo! I'm with you, I'm doing it too. However, you'll quickly realise, if you live in the UK, it's after this incredibly difficult decision that it all becomes very, very complicated. Let me explain. There are three things I learned about choosing single motherhood in the UK; forget it, find a man or be loaded.
Step two - The NHS
The UK is not a great place for single women looking to be mothers. Firstly, there is the question of the NHS. The rule here is that if you're single, over 39 and female you will not be treated with donor insemination. I think I'm right in saying that even if you're under 39 this is true, although you may be eligible for IVF as long as you have a known sperm donor e.g. husband, partner or someone willing. Save yourself lots of heartache and don't go through the rigmarole of trying. Although I'm told that attitudes are changing, it will be a long time yet before these changes reach the NHS and single woman over 39 will be given any kind of fertility treatment on the NHS. The HFEA is the body that regulates donor insemination and clinics must consider the 'father's role' in the treatment. In essence, although it is not quite put this way, the underlying tone is that if you're single, morally, the NHS cannot treat you.
Step Three - Private Clinics
So to the next step. I looked into private clinics. The good news is that there are a fair few private clinics that will treat you as a single women, and if you're over 40. The London Women's Clinic is amongst these - it gets a good rap - and there are many outside London too. The bad news is that women will have to stump up cash to the tune of £1,800 + per cycle. Yes, that's PER cycle. I don't know about you, but as a woman on a normal salary (and mine is by no means bad) this is just not a possibility. If you're in a couple it is probably about do-able, but on your own? Doubtful, very, very doubtful. So, what next?
Step Four - That Ex and My Gay Mate
Well, you can always see if that ex you're still friendly with is up for the challenge of co-parenting, but first think about the reality of this. A good book that outlines the pitfalls of this is 'Knock Yourself Up' by Louise Sloan. Yes, it's American so some parts just don't apply to us in the UK, but she does have very valid points to make about this consideration. I did have an offer, but we both knew it was a fantasy. Reality bites; none harder than tying yourself to someone with slightly different views on life from you. Think about it. The same applies to your gay friend. For some people it really works out and it is important above all else to have a father, albeit one that doesn't quite fit. This is something you really need to think seriously about. I did and I decided it was a NO. So now what?
Step Five - The Future is Danish
I did my research and Spain seemed a pretty good bet. It's the place the GP's recommend and it isn't prohibitively expensive. I even booked a consultation with a clinic in Barcelona at the Fertility Fair in Earl's Court. Except for one thing...donor insemination without fertility treatment, or rather with a natural cycle, seems out of the question for women over 40. That's the message I got - you can't use your own eggs after 40. Having been pregnant at 41 with one try and once at 25, again with one try, (long story as to why neither went to term - one for another blog) I had my bloods done by my GP to see if I was still a viable prospect for natural cycle insemination. The results? Good hormones, good level of potential fertility, good tubes etc etc. No need for Clomid. OK then, so which country will inseminate me without fertility 'extras'? The answer is Denmark. Several good clinics that treat single women and lesbians exist there. Simple, inexpensive, compassionate and run my midwives who understand a thing or two about women. And you get to go to Copenhagen. I picked a clinic - I chose Stork Klinik- sent off my 'tests' proving I was clean of all the usual nasties and bingo! A consultation after 3 weeks with an insemination booked for the next ovulation and a fee of £470 for one anonymous shot of Danish sperm. Simple. Or is it...
Next blog will talk you through my consultation and what to expect.
Till then.
You've done your research (American based blogs, forums and websites), read books from women who've done it already (all American it seems) and you've reached a decision to proceed. Bravo! I'm with you, I'm doing it too. However, you'll quickly realise, if you live in the UK, it's after this incredibly difficult decision that it all becomes very, very complicated. Let me explain. There are three things I learned about choosing single motherhood in the UK; forget it, find a man or be loaded.
Step two - The NHS
The UK is not a great place for single women looking to be mothers. Firstly, there is the question of the NHS. The rule here is that if you're single, over 39 and female you will not be treated with donor insemination. I think I'm right in saying that even if you're under 39 this is true, although you may be eligible for IVF as long as you have a known sperm donor e.g. husband, partner or someone willing. Save yourself lots of heartache and don't go through the rigmarole of trying. Although I'm told that attitudes are changing, it will be a long time yet before these changes reach the NHS and single woman over 39 will be given any kind of fertility treatment on the NHS. The HFEA is the body that regulates donor insemination and clinics must consider the 'father's role' in the treatment. In essence, although it is not quite put this way, the underlying tone is that if you're single, morally, the NHS cannot treat you.
Step Three - Private Clinics
So to the next step. I looked into private clinics. The good news is that there are a fair few private clinics that will treat you as a single women, and if you're over 40. The London Women's Clinic is amongst these - it gets a good rap - and there are many outside London too. The bad news is that women will have to stump up cash to the tune of £1,800 + per cycle. Yes, that's PER cycle. I don't know about you, but as a woman on a normal salary (and mine is by no means bad) this is just not a possibility. If you're in a couple it is probably about do-able, but on your own? Doubtful, very, very doubtful. So, what next?
Step Four - That Ex and My Gay Mate
Well, you can always see if that ex you're still friendly with is up for the challenge of co-parenting, but first think about the reality of this. A good book that outlines the pitfalls of this is 'Knock Yourself Up' by Louise Sloan. Yes, it's American so some parts just don't apply to us in the UK, but she does have very valid points to make about this consideration. I did have an offer, but we both knew it was a fantasy. Reality bites; none harder than tying yourself to someone with slightly different views on life from you. Think about it. The same applies to your gay friend. For some people it really works out and it is important above all else to have a father, albeit one that doesn't quite fit. This is something you really need to think seriously about. I did and I decided it was a NO. So now what?
Step Five - The Future is Danish
I did my research and Spain seemed a pretty good bet. It's the place the GP's recommend and it isn't prohibitively expensive. I even booked a consultation with a clinic in Barcelona at the Fertility Fair in Earl's Court. Except for one thing...donor insemination without fertility treatment, or rather with a natural cycle, seems out of the question for women over 40. That's the message I got - you can't use your own eggs after 40. Having been pregnant at 41 with one try and once at 25, again with one try, (long story as to why neither went to term - one for another blog) I had my bloods done by my GP to see if I was still a viable prospect for natural cycle insemination. The results? Good hormones, good level of potential fertility, good tubes etc etc. No need for Clomid. OK then, so which country will inseminate me without fertility 'extras'? The answer is Denmark. Several good clinics that treat single women and lesbians exist there. Simple, inexpensive, compassionate and run my midwives who understand a thing or two about women. And you get to go to Copenhagen. I picked a clinic - I chose Stork Klinik- sent off my 'tests' proving I was clean of all the usual nasties and bingo! A consultation after 3 weeks with an insemination booked for the next ovulation and a fee of £470 for one anonymous shot of Danish sperm. Simple. Or is it...
Next blog will talk you through my consultation and what to expect.
Till then.
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