My Busted Stork

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


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Unreal

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!

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