My Busted Stork

The travails of an infertile…and no, I won’t just relax!



Life has turned itself upside down. It’s like I have woken up in someone else’s life and am pretending to be her. Pretending to be…pregnant.

Last Thursday evening we were smacked upside the head with our first ever BFP!

I know this is gross but most of you will be quite familiar with these!

We stared at those 2 (still wet, gross) pee sticks for hours on end swinging from giggles to absolute silent terror. My mind started going into overdrive that night and I hardly slept a wink. I knew that if the pee stick was positive the bloods would be positive but that it’s not like we are exactly in the clear yet. But for the first time in…years maybe?…I allowed myself to start thinking. To start planning, working out dates, day dreaming of what it would be like to hold a baby that is ours.

The next day I went for the blood test and Doc called with the news of a definite positive and a beta of 117. I tried to focus on work for the rest of the day but the news was sitting inside me like a big bubbling mass trying to seep out of my pores. I had to share with my family and one or 2 friends but I felt possessive over my secret and wanted to keep the news mine for a while.

W on the other hand was a happy mess. I always say that he isn’t in touch with his feelings and this is true when he is going through a tough time but when the news is good he turns to goo. He was tearful and emotional – which meant that any women he came into contact with (including the odd guy) was also bawling and hallaluja-ing along with him. Where I have been quiet he has started telling the world which I am not too happy about.

Over the weekend he turned into ‘husband of the universe’. I know I am always quick to bitch when it comes to my Darling Husband but when expectation is low he has the power to amaze me – doing the shopping and all sorts of chores, bringing me tea and pampering with me with affection. But then on Sunday night his own crazies took over. He started obsessing about our second beta, reading up on all the stories of chemical pregnancies, ectopics and other nightmares. He was petrified and by the time the Doc called the next day he was ready to crumble into a heap. But the second beta was strong – coming in at 676. The Doc was happy and Warren was once again a happy mess.

We go for our first scan in 2 weeks and that does fill me with dread as I am aware of the many things that can go wrong. But optimism has finally gotten the best of me. Things are still a bit unreal to me but I am happy. W commented on how I seemed like the world had lifted off my shoulders – I think he used the word “blossomed”. I suppose that makes me realise that before this even though I was functioning my ‘normal’ was burdened under a heavy weight of negativity, failure and heartache. I am now allowing myself to slowly fill up with hope.

And along with that hope and happiness comes excessive saliva, cramping and nausea – BRING IT ON!



And now we wait

This is probably not going to be the most inspired post – right now I am at best holding my head up and at worst not even thinking straight. Words might not come the right order in. But I thought I needed to document where we are right now so that I have done it before the dreaded approaching test date. Last IVF I lagged on writing everything down and so had to write it all after we had our BFN which was really tough. Looking back it was good in a way because it let me examine my story and then put it to bed as best as I could.

We had our Embryo Transfer a few days ago. I tried to have a relaxing morning at home but ended up doing some work. Then I planned a nice walk on the beach with the dogs which ended up being a massive sand storm because of the wind – I continued to try and see the bright side.

We got to see the Doc and he said that they had thawed the first 2 embryo’s but they weren’t looking good. I saw them on the screen – they looked like lumpy walnuts instead of embryos but it’s a wonder to me that I even know what an embryo should look like! So we spent another stressful hour waiting to see if the other 2 – our last 2 – would thaw and remain viable. The what ifs were racing through my brain and making me seasick. Doc came through with a thumbs up which was a HUGE relief. So we did the transfer. It wasn’t as painful as the last time – although tight is still way too much of a understatement! Doc said it went well and so that was it.

Obviously I am blessed that I could even transfer 2 embryos but I was a little bummed that that is it for us regarding a further FET. Next time round it will need to be another IVF and another 30k – ouch!

But I am still feeling like shit warmed up. Like, really. Like I can’t face the drive home right now because of the nausea. My butt is now many colours of the rainbow with big painful lumps under the skin. And wait, I have diarrhoea to add to the list (sorry for the TMI). Oh, and don’t forget the moodiness and borderline depression – that’s new and probably the worst of them all. I have googled the side effects of Estropause and all of this comes up so I know I can’t read anything hopeful into these symptoms. It just makes a BFN all the more harder to bear when it’s all for nothing.

And yes, I know the good angel sitting on the other shoulder says “but it’s all worth it if its positive” but seriously, get the f**k out of my face!


A lumpy arse and other joys of FET

Caution: Gloom and doom ahead. Do not proceed if you are easily affected by negativity.

We are half way through our first FET cycle and I have to say that I am not enjoying myself. Not that any of the IF journey is every “enjoyable” but there has been some excitement along the way. This cycle – not so much.

I suppose I am not going into things feeling positive or hopeful or any of the other life-giving, earth mother nonsense that everyone says I should be feeling. I am almost grateful for this. The more “low key” or even gloomy I can keep my expectations the better. There is no “light at the end of the tunnel” but just more pain and heartache and shattered hopes so I just kinda want to get this all done and dusted.

It also turns out that the hormones are more brutal on FET. My Doc explained it as “hormone replacement” rather than “hormone supplement”. I started taking Estropause from CD3 building up from 1 tablet to now 4 per day. This is Estrogen and from what I understand its purpose is to get the uterus lining as thick as possible for implantation. Now that I am on 4 tables the headaches and nausea are not to be sneezed at. Then from CD13 Doc put me onto Gestone injections. Gestone is progesterone in oil and requires you to inject it into the butt muscle on a daily basis. Progesterone helps with maintaining a healthy lining to aid embryo implantation as well as maintain pregnancy after implantation.

Let me just tell you that this idea is directly from the pits of hell. I wouldn’t say I have a high pain threshold but I am not a ninny. Stimming for IVF was a breeze; taking blood when the nurse can’t find my vein is par for the course – I can handle all of this with no drama. But these injections are on another level. W has a needle phobia (bordering on pathetic) but he has had to man-up and give me these injections because there is no way I could give them to myself. They burn like hell during but just when you are relieved it’s over the site starts burning like hell even more and you get a nasty bump in the muscle. This stays for the next few days accompanied by a lovely purple bruise. And then the next day W has to find another site. Look, I have a large arse but after 4 of these injections I am starting to run out of lump free areas to bear this needle abuse.

If I get lucky and fall pregnant then I need to continue with the Gestone injections to help maintain the pregnancy. But in that instance the pain and the purple lumps will seem worth it. I will cherish that blessed time of day when I get to lie down with my bare arse exposed waiting for my husband to anoint me with the needle of hope and glory. But until then I despise it and sometimes just want to punch W in the face for doing this to me.

We are going in tomorrow for the Embryo Transfer (ET). We have 4 embryos frozen – I think they will thaw 2 and if they don’t thaw well they will try the other 2 and then put back to the best 2 of the bunch. I wouldn’t say I am “looking forward” to it rather than looking forward to the day off work. I haven’t forgotten the horrible little tool of pain that Doc uses to wrench open my vagina. But I do want to get those little buggers inside so I can start threatening them with embryo abuse if they decide not to hand around!

Just to carry on with the gloomy note I am not even looking forward to being PUPO (barf) – because I won’t “feel” pregnant, because I don’t know what pregnant feels like anyhow AND I won’t be able to drink wine. I will just wait out the 2 weeks, weather the disappointment of it all and try and look forward to my end of year holiday where I will drink copious amounts of wine.

And here is another little cheery story. I have worked with this guy for 3 years. He is slightly senior to me but not my boss. But he gets all the promotions and the perks and remains with his head firmly entrenched in our bosses arsehole. He is younger than me – about 6 years. He parties HARD, drinks HARD and spews the most offensive, unfunny drivel dripping with sexual innuendo and chauvinism ALL DAY. We are not friends. He recently moved from “player” to “taken” (poor girl) and then a few months later dumped her ass to sow his wild seeds some more. But lo and behold she found out she was 3 months pregnant so he has “done the right thing” and moved in with her. He is going to be a Dad. He bought a pram last week. I actually had a really good laugh when he told me but now I am just bitter and twisted and hating.

Fun times!