Our journey Archives - Page 10 of 18

Ba-boom, ba-boom

I bend over to tie my shoes, and I am instantly out of breath. Black and white spots dance before my eyes, and my heart thumps dangerously heavy in my chest – oh yes, I’m pregnant.

It hasn’t quite sunk in yet.

We have received so many lovely messages, Jo has bought me flowers, my mother has already crocheted a baby blanket, it is all so wonderful… but part of me still feels as if it isn’t real.

In spite of my disbelief, pregnancy symptoms have started rolling over me like a speeding train. My sense of smell is suddenly at bloodhound level. I need to breathe past the people on the tram, their scents of smoke, coffee breath, sweat, feet, uuugh. I walk past a bin on a street with a rotting banana in it and start gagging. I have to hold my breath when opening the fridge.

You’d think all of that would leave little doubt that there really is a little baby Sunshine growing… but still I am apprehensive for that important first scan.

An announcement!

Baby Sunshine – that should be this embryo’s name. It’s only February, but the moment we had our embryo transfer, the weather turned glorious.

It was a bright morning when Jo and I tested at home for the very first time, standing in the sunny bathroom, taking shaky breaths as two lines appeared on the test almost immediately.

It was a gorgeous afternoon, people sitting outside on the terraces, when I nervously walked to the doctors to get my blood drawn. And it was brilliant day when I received the cheery text from the doctor telling me officially and it became real.

I am PREGNANT!

Only four weeks and two days along today, which is of course incredibly early. So much can go wrong still, and it very well might, but I want to enjoy this. I want to treasure every moment of this pregnancy, this dream, for however long we might have it.

We already love you, little Sunshine. Please grow and stay with us.

Love,

your mums xx

Waiting…

After the embryo transfer, there is about a ten day wait before a pregnancy test is likely to show anything.

I don’t have a clue whether it worked or not.

It’s hard not to be constantly on the lookout for potential symptoms. Every twitch, every feeling whatsoever suddenly gains a possible significance.

After a few days, my breasts are suddenly feeling very swollen and painful. That leaves me excited at first, because boobs = pregnant, right? But after some research I figure out it’s more likely to be all the hormones I’m taking that are causing it than it being a proper pregnancy sign.

On another day, I feel cramps. That could mean implantation, that the little embryo is making itself right at home. Or it could mean nothing at all.

The day after that it’s a spinny feeling in my head. But then that goes again too.

So I dutifully swallow all the pills and take all the medication as directed, ten items a day, and time crawls on.

Operation snowflake: The frozen embryo transfer

It’s a beautiful morning in London. It startlingly feels like spring even though it’s only February.

We slowly make our way towards St. Paul’s cathedral. I promised my grandmother we would go in, so we do, and I even think a little prayer. Neither Jo or myself are religious at all, but on a day like this I feel like we can go with a ‘just in case’, right?

We find the Create clinic (which is just opposite St. Paul’s), and we are checked in quickly. Both of us need to change into gowns, which is a bit like playing dress-up, and we giggle nervously trying to sort out various straps and the plastic bits that go over our feet and heads.

Then the nurse scans my abdomen to check whether my bladder is full enough for the procedure. …and it isn’t!(I’m sorry! I was nervous! I had to have a pee!)

She sends me back to drink more water, so Jo and I sit in the little curtained off area and wait. We take some pictures. We chat. I drink my cups of water.

Back when we heard how many embryos we had, we nicknamed them all. The one they’re transferring today is a 4AB embryo, named ‘Shiva’ by Jo. We ask the nurse whether there will be a chance to get a picture of little Shiva, and she brings it to us, a print-off of this round, cellular blastocyst. It looks nothing like a baby of course, but I love the thought that it might become one some day and showing them the earliest picture ever taken of them * g *

Eventually, I am called back in, scanned again, and my bladder is declared full enough to start.

The hormone crazies

Progesterone makes me feel angry.

I always assumed if I would have any mood swings at all during this process, it would be the kind where I am tearing up over a picture of a kitten one minute, and desperately stuffing my face with ice cream the next. I thought it would be messy emotion-wise, but generally harmless; all soppy stories and The Feels, maybe being a bit snappish when I can’t have as much coffee as I’d like or when I hate how bloated I look.

Instead, I feel like I want to commit murder.

I am self-aware enough not to actually do anything too horrible, but the rage is fierce this cycle. I am on ten items of medication a day, that alone requires a lot of planning and keeping track of each moment, I have zero shits left to give about anything else!

Poor Jo has attempted to hug me more than once only to hear an absolute ‘NO’. I despise this latest addition in medication and can’t help but be vocal about it. This all SUCKS! * waves a fist *

But is it at least worth it?