Three countries in one day

My Grandmother, God rest her soul,  would have called me plain crazy. In an effort to save money, I spent Thursday 10 February in London Heathrow, Copenhagen and Frankfurt.  My heels barely touched the ground in either country and my planes home were, of course, delayed.  Knackered didn't cover it.  I had thirty minutes peace laying on the insemination couch for my required 'chill-out' time, but apart from that it was an 18 hour day of rushing and pure exhaustion.

I had lots to worry about when I called the clinic and left an answerphone message on the evening of the 9th.  Would they get the message, would they book me a slot, would there actually be a slot after I paid for my ridiculously expensive flights?  I arrived at Heathrow at 8am and called the clinic, 9am their time.  No need to worry. They'd booked me a slot exactly one hour after I landed to ensure I could make the appointment and in case of minor delays.  Panic over.  The problem with doing this overseas is that if you are more than 70 minutes late for your slot, the washed sperm sample is useless and you still have to pay for it.  Nightmare.  Still Scandinavian Airlines has punctuality as its strapline and they weren't wrong.  I can only imagine if I had used BA -late, delayed, cancelled. I arrived with time for an earl grey tea and a healthy sandwich in my favourite little Baresso coffee shop, at the end of the clinic's street.  A deep breath in and a smile on my face, off I went for round 2.

This time it was quite uncomfortable, but not exactly painful.  I had a different midwife, but she was just as nice and encouraging as the last one.  They take their time with you and create a mood of relaxation.  I worried it would be like the dreaded smear test, which I absolutely hate, but it's nothing like that.  That is Hell, this is ok.  She didn't rubbish my feelings about how I thought I might have conceived last time and she was supportive about how to manage the two weeks wait.  We talked about hormone treatment versus natural cycle and agreed that for me, with my stats, natural is still the best way forward for the first few times.

Once cocooned on my Lufthansa flight to Germany (delayed) I felt a bit sore and crampy, but otherwise fine.  I was delighted to get a free snack and drink, meaning no need to change money to stop starvation in Frankfurt.  It occurred to me as I caught flight number 3 back to London (delayed), that I was less excitable and calmer than last time.  As always, my thoughts turned to my previous partner and how much I miss him.  He is now in love with someone else, a girl 13 years younger than both of us.  It hurts terribly when I realise that he will have a family with her, naturally and with ease, especially as we lost our baby.  I do torture myself with this daily, but this is my path now and I can only move forward.  When I'm tired and a bit emotional this is very hard to do, but in true British style I have a nice cup of tea and think of  a gorgeous little baby in my arms, half Danish, half Scottish.  Hope is a wonderful drug.

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...

Round 2

I'm a few days away from ovulation and the next round of IUI.  I'm finding it hard to keep positive and feel a bit low.  Of course, feeling low isn't a great boost for your fertility so am trying to look after myself.  Normally I'd share a glass of red wine with a friend (or a bottle), but of course - no wine!   So I've been trying to eat foods that can help boost the endometrium.  Lots of beetroot, red meat, fish and spinach.  After a bit of research I've also discovered that eating the core of a pineapple, from the first day of the IUI to day five after ovulation, is supposed to help an embryo attach.  God knows why, but pineapple core contains bromelain which apparently is a boost to the uterine lining.  It's worth a try I suppose; after all it doesn't cost a lot and it can't hurt.

I have also turned my thoughts to acupuncture,  a therapy that has had very positive PR for aiding fertility.  It's costly though, especially when you're doing this alone and saving every bit of cash for the actual monthly IUI.  However, I've found  a centre with an acupunturist who specialises in pre-conception and fertility and offers a low cost service for just £25 a session.  We will see if it helps, but I am sure it can only do good.

Armed with some prospects for helping myself, I am thinking ahead now to next week's IUI with more hope.  It is hard doing this alone, there's no question of it, but actually maybe there's something to be said for having the strength to do it alone.  I can imagine that some male partners might find the trial this can impose on a woman hard to grasp.  At least I can't have my expectations of support and understanding dashed!  Here's to keeping the faith...

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.

While I wait

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.

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..

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.

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.