Panic Over a Pessary

Woke up this morning realising was too sleepy to put in the pessary last night. They said to do it at bedtime and I had been perhaps being to strict about this, doing it the last thing before crawling into bed. But I was so tired last night I fell asleep on the sofa and had to crawl my way to bed.

Awful feeling having forgotten something like this. Obviously immediately put one in in the morning but have spent most of the day worrying about it.

What a scatterbrained fool.

Laura Munson - "I Don't Buy It."

Just re-read an article I pulled out from the paper a couple of weeks ago. Here is a bit:

One fine day, in the mountains of Montana, Laura Munson's husband said to her, 'I don't love you any more. I'm not sure I ever did. I'm moving out. The kids will understand. They'll want me to be happy.'

What is the normal reaction of this kind of announcement? You can sob and wail and get down on your knees and beg. Alternatively, you can pick up a meat cleaver and, when the car skids off the driveway, cut the crotch out of all his suits. But Munson did none of these things. She wasn't going to let him get away with this. She said, 'I don't buy it.'

He apparently looked surprised. The next thing he said was, 'I don't like what you've become.'

At this point, Munson says, 'a shroud of calm enveloped me.' Again she said, 'I don't buy it.'

Part of me thinks this is weak. How can she put up with being talked to like that, treated with such little kindness or respect. But part of me knows she is strong.

I need to memorise her words.

His words really were sticks and stones, it turned out.

She also asked him, 'What can we do to give you the distance you need, without hurting the family?'. When he ranted she again said, 'I just asked: what can we do to give you the distance you need.'

She explains: 'Then he can't play victim. He has to take responsibility for his own well being. When you don't engage in the drama, it bounces back to the person who flung it in the first place.'

She uses the analogy of a child having a tantrum and shouting out that they hate you. You don't join in or answer back. You ignore the tantrum and walk away. Not that he was being a child. The spiritual malaise was a very profound personal crisis. But he needed time out. She had destructive thoughts. But kept her composure in front of her husband and children.

And the moral of it all? It's all about letting things go. Suddenly, the minute I let go of ever getting published, and of my marital outcome, that is when everything turns round.

2ww and nervous breakdowns

The lovely 2WW. Lovely limbo-land.

My friend also going through it all, who even ended up having the same transfer day as me, mentioned that someone said aches in the tummy area can mean implantation. As much as I tried not to let it, this inevitably made me think 'Ah! A sign!' every time I had a twinge. Regardless of the fact that I had my insides flushed several times last week - enough to make anyone twinge. Boobs sore as well. And yesterday I suddenly got all weak in town.

Signs, or recovery?

And, as if the 2WW wasn't enough to contend with, H seems to be having some sort of nervous breakdown too. Totally flipped out this weekend, twice. Ranting, raving, making no sense. First time we laughed it off and moved on. Then it happened all over again a day later. It seems he is an unreachable bundle of stress and anxiety and just can't cope any more.

I don't think he can help it. That's the worst. I can't be angry with him. There's no point. Explains why I have found him so unsupportive this IVF time around. He has been barely hanging on. Thing is I don't know how to help him either.

Have also let myself succumb to a coffee. Have been pretty good. I don't think I have ever yearned so much for a vodka shot as I did yesterday but I settled for nice caffeine free Rooibus tea.

Bingo

Bingo. Our one little egg fertilised. What a hero (heroine?).

Call came after a wierdly calm morning. Calm but very restless. House very tidy now. Now time to curl up and watch DVDs I think. Is a nice rainy day which is perfect.

To Be Or Not To Be... Positive

Whatever happens, this morning’s events have made me feel clearer about the ‘to be or not to be positive’ dilemma which has confused me for quite some time.

There is a school of thought which says you should be prepared for the realistic eventuality with IVF, have a clear idea about your likelihood of success. Ie, in our case, probable failure. Our last doctor even put this in her letter. ‘The couple are prepared for success to be unlikely’. She kept going on about it every step of the way. Even just before transfer. My acupuncturist told me about a client who was having IUI whose doctor said, at the actual moment he/she was transferring in the sperm: "We'll do IVF next time if this doesn't work."

Others, especially nurses I have found, believe it is very important to keep positive until you know the game is up. Being prepared and dwelling on negative outcomes certainly doesn’t stop you feeling the anguish of them if they actually happen, I can personally attest to that. It hurts no matter what. I seriously doubt it hurts more if you were completely positive before. Of course, doctors are perhaps understandably protecting themselves against patients accusing them if bad chances were not underlined. But this is about them. Their warnings do not help the patients in any way, prepare them for, or ease their hurt and grief.

It is not just that there are few negatives to being positive, there are actually many positives to being positive. At least along the IVF journey, until the result is definitive. It aids your quality of life. It potentially lowers stress levels. It definitely helps your relationships with your partner, friends and colleagues.

Until now I have sat on the fence on this debate. People should just feel as positive or negative as they feel, was my thought. You can’t force anything. It is good when you are hopeful regardless of doctor warnings but it can be a pressure to feel happy if you don’t. Plus for a long time I needed to vent, wallow in the mire, let myself be a miserable, stroppy mare. It seemed a necessary stage of acceptance after all the years of ‘trying’.

But while I still believe all this something has shifted in my thought pattern. It is subtle but it is there. It is not about not allowing yourself to be miserable. It is about letting yourself be positive once you have vented and feel strong enough to go on.

The anaesthetist who couldn’t find my follicle definitely didn’t help in her attempts to over-prepare me for my lack of follicles, and the chances of the lack of eggs in them. It was unnecessary anguish to deal with just before going ‘under’ on anaesthetic drugs. I could have been told the follicle was gone after, I was anyway, it simply didn’t help and made things worse to know this was a possibility before. She really, really (really) didn’t help when, as I was groggily resurfacing from general anaesthetic, she told me she did find something, but she wasn’t even sure it was an egg. Especially since it was, and she could have said they just needed to do some lab tests until they knew.

In contrast, the second anaesthetist, who did not seem to be in charge for some reason, said simply after the search for the missing follicle: "You only need one egg. There's a good follicle there. There's everything to be positive for."

"Thank-you," I remember saying as I lost focus and spaced out.

What Happened on Egg Collection Day

Well, it's not all over yet but it didn't go great. Understatement.

They did a scan just before I went in for collection and the main anaesthetist woman couldn't find the other follicle. She said they would have another proper look when I was under the anaesthetic. I do not know whether the original scanner saw something which wasn't a follicle or this woman just couldn't find it. I had problems with scanners not finding follicles last time when they ended up turning up.

When I woke up from the anaesthetic she said they searched and searched and couldn't find the follicle. She said she found something in the other follicle which might be an egg but she wasn't sure so sent it up to the lab for them to check.

I started to cry. It was all tears for a while then as they wheeled me back into the hospital room to see H. He was lovely and let me vent.

Then I got a phone call from the job people offering me the job. This did make me feel elated for a while though it was weird discussing start dates and the like from a hospital bed. Then the lab phoned and said the egg which didn't look like an egg was an egg and they would try and fertilise it. We will find out tomorrow if it worked.

The anaesthetist came in the room and looked very relieved and said "I was lucky". I don't feel lucky. Have serious reservations about her, but know the blame game is not helpful to anyone, especially me.

Was elated about the job and re-appearance of the egg for a while. This got me home. Propelled me through a sore journey to the train and on the train and to bed.

Now I am home the negativity seems to be returning. Going to finish this and write up another blog which I wrote on the train. I hope this might help.

Double yolker

So. D Day tomorrow. Eggies come out. In myself, feel ok. I feel OK about the 2 follicle thing now. What will be will be. And you only need one good eggie. I holding out for a double yolker.

But things have been tense with H again. He kept letting me down all weekend and just doesn't seem to be in this experience with me this time at all, which makes me feel so lonely. But then, I am very demanding of him at the moment too. I have no tolerance at all. And if this all works out, I know things would be ok. It is the infertility which has torn us so apart. If it doesn't who knows but will deal with that then.

Had a job interview this morning also and haven't a clue how it went, but I really want the job all of a sudden. Can really imagine myself there, being happy.

Fingers crossed that luck is about to change. Had an email back from that friend who I had a falling out with last year. Seems there's a chance of recovery there. So if we go by the 'everything goes in threes' theory that is the first good thing, and there are two more to follow. Job and, i dare not say the other one but I think it is obvious what it should be.

Only 2 Follicles But They Are Good Ones, Apparently

Well. What a day. Went to the clinic for what I expected to be just a scan and now we are down to do egg collection on Tuesday. It happened so fast.

There are only 2 follicles which made me cry. There were 4 last time and that was considered low. In the old clinic she would not have recommended going ahead with just 2.

But they seem to see it different at the new place. They said they were good follicles - full size. They also said the fact that the follicles had grown to full size so quickly, in just a week, was a good sign. Meant they were good quality. H said he remembered the doctor saying she would be pleased with 2, and that just 2 would be good. The lovely nurse said the fact that both were the same size was a good thing too. Not 100% sure what it all means when people say all these things are good things but it doesn't hurt to have faith and believe them all I suppose.

The nurse was a godsend. At my last visit the nurse was quite cold and clinical and I just felt she was irritated at every question I asked, but thankfully this one was warm and caring and exactly what I needed. I wanted to take her home with me. keep her for all emergencies, in the spare room. A girl who had been in the waiting room with her mum at the same time as me, went in for her scan just after me. I had come out flabbergasted and confused about the egg collection, downhearted about the only 2 follicles thing, waiting to see the nurse. Then that same girl had come out to get her mum, dripping with tears. I recognised that expression so well, and how it had changed from just a few minutes before when we had been sat, with fear and hope, waiting for our scans, our updates - maybe our futures. Things can change so completely in such a short space of time.

Anyhow, it all started me off, and the nurse came out to find me dripping with tears too.

But rollercoaster moments. By the time I came out from seeing her I felt a lot better. The tears then returned when I phoned H and he didn't immediately pick up. I felt so lonely walking through London streets alone without anyone to share my thoughts with. I even started thinking about that girl's mum and how she had been there. It got better as soon as he did call back. But then I was dazed and so, so tired when I went to a pre-arranged meet with 2 old school friends. Nice sitting in the park in the sun but very unreal.

Now I am just so weary and stunned from it all. Worried about all the re-arranging I have to do as it all happened so fast, but trying to just go with it. Be passive. It's supposed to be good to be passive - your body is supposed to be more responsive that way.

I have managed to get myself an acupuncture appointment for the Monday which is good. I could probably do without the job interview on Monday morning but hey ho, maybe the distraction will be a good thing - on both counts. I can't see myself getting as nervous as I usually do about the interview this time. It is with the RSPCA. I like the sound of that. It would be wrong to pass the opportunity up.

When I Cannot Think of Nothing

Feeling extremely frazzled and exhausted. Very emotional. Very snappy. Forgot the drugs did this to you.

Just read this in my book. I liked it.

"Bessi says I think too much, and I get so sad sometimes - so I'd think about nothing.

"It's hard to think about nothing. I've tried it. You end up thinking about everything and getting stressed out. It's best to just think of one thing. A good thing."

He put his arms around her shoulders. "Sadness comes and goes like the seasons," he said. "Look at the sea. Think about that."

They said nothing for a long time. Georgia watched. The sun put diamonds on the waves. Towards dusk, there was a change in colour. It astonished her.

She wrote in her notebook, so that she would not forget: "Peace of mind, give me the calm to notice that there is a point along the ocean's horizon where the watery blue changes to a deeper complexion of blueness. When I cannot think of nothing, I must get away and come and find the sea."

As If I Was Famous

This is an experiment. These interviews with set questions which appear in the Guardian Weekend every Saturday always intrigue me. I thought I would pretend I was famous and answer them this time - in a first-thing-that-comes-into-my-head kind of way.

When were you happiest?

The first couple of years with H. Finally found the piece of the puzzle that was missing. Family was on the horizon, job was good, life was full of fun and friendship and togetherness.

What is your greatest fear?
Loneliness.

What is your earliest memory?
Waking up from a confusing dream and stumbling into my mum's room.

Which living person do you most admire?

A friend who has been living with terminal Cancer for about six years now yet is always everyone's shoulder to cry on and never feels sorry for herself.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Anxious paranoia.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Malice. That quality which makes certain people purposely put others down and try to harm them psychologically simply to make themselves feel better, more powerful. Also manipulation - playing people off against each other.

Aside from a property, what's the most expensive thing you've bought?
A plane ticket home from Australia via New Zealand, the Cook Islands and Los Angeles.

What is your most treasured possession?
My cat.

What do you most dislike about your appearance?
Worry lines.

If you could go back in time, where would you go?
To the first couple of years with H.

If you could bring something extinct back to life, what would you choose?
My cat who disappeared.

What is your favourite book?
So many but Wuthering Heights I think. Or Alice in Wonderland?

What is the worst thing anyone's said to you?
Don't want to dwell on that.

What is your guiltiest pleasure?
Biscuits and boxsets in the afternoon. Or Home and Away.

To whom would you most like to say sorry, and why?
When I was a news reporter I had to do death knocks. Once I ended up on the doorstep of a little girl's house moments after she had died. I would like to say sorry to her parents. I was told to do it but I should have refused and walked away. Later on I pretended I had knocked and never did.

What or who is the greatest love of your life?
H.

Who would you invite to your dream dinner party?
My dearest friends.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
I don't understand/ I feel misunderstood.

If you could edit your past, what would you change?
I would say some of the things I was too scared to. Regret lingers on so much more than embarrassment. I would tell lots of boys I liked them, friends that I had had a great time, strangers that I would like to give that a go. I wish I had been less shy in my youth, less afraid of rejection. The best things that have happened in my life involved throwing caution to the wind.

How do you relax?
Lying in a candle-lit bubble bath or in the sun. Both with a book which I sometimes read, sometimes just look at and think about reading.

What single thing would improve the quality of your life?
Children. A family.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?
Conquering a lot of my fear and shyness.

What keeps you awake at night?
Anxiety.

What is the most important lesson life has taught you?
You can't control it.

Where would you most like to be right now?
In a sunny garden with H and children running round.

Wanderer returns

H back. For the time being all is lovely again.

He did the drugs last night. Not much better at it than me if the truth be known but at least there's one less responsibility for me to handle. And so far we are good together. He laughed when I made broccoli (one of the things the doctor recommended for fertility) and he ate it rather than getting angry about 'old wives tales' and us having to dedicate our lives to the fertility battle.

Can we really have turned a corner? I daren't believe it, trust it. Part of me is suspicious, waiting for the horrors to return.

New temping job today too which is fun. PA to the Dean of infectious diseases up at the medical school at the University. At first I was a bit befuddled as it was unclear exactly what I was supposed to be doing but by the end of the day I was really enjoying it.

The Dean is a very short but very nice man. Not got little man syndrome at all. Obviously passionate about what he does and an academic - but not distant or hoity toity.

I spent the afternoon typing up letters confirming jobs after the probationary period had passed. He was so effusive about how wonderful every single person was, I nearly shed a tear. There was even a slightly cross letter asking whether it wasn't an insult to such obviously talented people to put them through this probationary rigmarole at all. Wasn't it obvious they should be confirmed? He felt embarrassed even bringing it up.

I did have some issues with technology though which made me feel like a dysfunctional cartoon character. I don't know whether it was me or the archaic systems they use. Probably both. The dean asked me to make a cappuccino, which is fine, probably the job of a PA for all I know. But I wasn't very good at it and the machine nearly exploded. Then a student came in wanting to use the fax machine and we couldn't get it to work. Then I had issues with the machine which imported his dictaphone and everyone ended up getting involved - not very helpfully. Even the email seems to be misbehaving. The Dean keeps saying he has sent emails but none come through. Sigh.

Menopur Madness

O dear. am suffering from a bit of a dip today I fear. And had been going so well.

Started on the Menopur last night and perhaps predictably found it very stressful. It isn't the actual sticking the needle in now, that felt curiously easy, it is all the fiddly stuff - the mixing up of the powers and liquids. As I am such a lost cause I am on the highest dose possible, which means I have to inject six vials worth of liquid. This involves putting the mixing needle full of liquid into one vial so that it mixes with the powder in there then drawing up every last drop and repeating for the other five vials. I didn't even seem to be able to manage doing one vial properly but left quite an amount of liquid in the bottom of the vial. I kept on putting the needle in the vial and trying to draw up again but each time I failed, with every vial I tried. I got myself pretty worked up, practically crying with frustration and despair, and even screamed at the poor cat who was mioawing at the door since I had shut her out. I felt terrible. She is not used to being shouted at.

In the end, after about an hour of doing this vial-and-needle dance, I just injected what I could but am sure I missed quite a lot. This depressed me. As it took so long I missed talking to H who was going to phone to see how it went and also meant I was late going round to a friend's for dinner.

I have felt quite down and flat ever since. Didn't do too much at all today except housework despite having had plans and even ended up watching three episodes of the West Wing this afternoon. Been a while since I succumbed to daytime TV. Doesn't seem to be that good a sign.

I don't know whether this mood is a result of the drugs or the trauma or just a general mood. Also got a letter in the post today from the clinic, obviously delayed, should have come after the last consultation a month and a half ago. It outlined our scenario but seemed full of very negative language, as if it is very unlikely we will even get to the egg collection stage.

Also have an ongoing issue with a friend I fell out with last year, or more accurately who fell out with me. She got pregnant in the heights of my despair about my infertility. It was a time when I was commuting and working horrific shifts as well as dealing with extreme heartache and actually not seeing many people at all. Maybe I saw even less of her than most people because of the pregnancy, I don't know, or maybe because she is an extremely tactless person. Anyhow, it felt out-of-the-blue and unjustified when she took extreme offence, accused me of "not being happy for her" and abused me to all mutual friends, even calling up H. I sent her an email trying to explain I had no personal grudge against her, that I just needed my own space as was going through a very difficult time and received "I am pregnant and don't need your emotional shit" as a reply. I have been very angry and resentful about this and neither of us have contacted us for 6 months or so, despite the birth of her son and other stuff. Recently I have been filled with the need to leave adolescent nonsense behind and move forward and tried to make contact again. I sent a short email asking if she would like to meet for coffee, I was not proposing revisiting old sources of conflict but it would be nice to be a presence in each other's lives. It has been nearly a week now but there has been no reply. Not quite sure what I expected, but it has re-opened all the old wounds of hurt all over again. I should never have gone there...

Always Answer The Phone With a Big Smile

Amazing night last night. Went to see 2 breathtaking shows at the festival. The first a play about a strange but very tender and true love between a celebrated 19th Century poet and his maid. Unconventional and disapproved of by society but very real all the same. The second an 'urban' circus - a group of streetkids from Colombia fusing bonkers acrobatics, intoxicating dance and mind-blowing stunts with a zestful, sexy swagger. Both were life-affirming. I came home feeling great.

It is so great to feel great and un-burdened by this treatment thing. I can't help but compare things a bit with last time. A year ago (almost) on our first round of IVF. Part of me thinks it is all completely different now, this time. I am going out rather than hiding away, I don't feel so broken. I am temping locally and by-and-large enjoying it rather than exhaustingly hiking to work in London for ludicrous shift patterns plus all the politics and stress of fitting in my treatments around work. Yes, at times it feels like it is all much better now.

But then again, there is this doubt saying: 'Really? Is it Really so different?' There was a period of great darkness followed by a period of hope last year too. I remember feeling good during the drug taking and lead up to collection and transfer too. We were being proactive. I was happy. Maybe it all is a recurring pattern.

I had a good day today too. Lovely acupuncture session this morning then on my way home I got a call from the temping agency saying they needed someone for a few hours this afternoon. It was in a plastic surgery clinic. Intriguing. There were lots of Buxom blondes come to check up on their breast enlargement. A few more unexpected types too - overweight ladies with walking sticks coming for skin treatment. Perhaps they needed something to make them feel happier, better with themselves.

I did not have to do much, except dress up. Or so the agency woman said. She made a big deal about telling me I had to do my hair and put on nail varnish and wear a black suit. I even felt panicked about it. I don't have a black suit. I have been told black clashes with my skin tone. I wore what I think is smart, office-y grey skirt, white Gap shirt and high heels. Had quite a job tottering down there in heels. Then got there and felt very overdressed. That patronising whatsit agency woman talking rubbish at me. What did she think? I was going to turn up in jeans?

Anyway it didn't matter. All I had to do apparently is 'Be lovely to everyone'. There was a lot of emphasis on 'being lovely' there. Even a sign which said 'Answer the phone with a big smile'. I enjoyed bathing in all the loveliness for an afternoon. Feeling all sunny and 'We are here to help' -ish. Maybe if I am in need someday I will go and get a nose job - just to bask in the loveliness some more.

To Drink or Not To Drink

Well another day and the injections feel like they are getting easier. Must have done something different or better as the needle went in really easily.

Am feeling tired but a lot better than last week when I was on the pill, when I felt very emotional all the time. I still find myself having anxieties but they are worries about things going wrong rather than feeling things are wrong. At the moment I have been filling my life with fun festival things to do. Saw one play yesterday, a very low key fringe rendition of the Greek myth of Dido. Going to see two more tonight and then another tomorrow. Wowzers. Haven't been so cultural in an age.

I suppose going to see things means the not drinking thing is not such an issue. I want to keep social and busy this time around but seeing certain friends makes it very hard not to drink. Was invited to a dinner party in 2 weekends today which normally would be lovely but found myself getting all anxious about it. The friends just do not understand the not drinking thing. See it as an old wives tale or something. I could just about cope with it but there would be problems with H I feel. Maybe we should just not go though that seems a shame to cut ourselves off.

Agghhh. there goes my anxious brain again - causing issues where there need be none.

When will your thumb ovulate?

Well the day came to start the treatments again. Despite being almost a year it feels quite fast all of a sudden. I had been taking the pill for the past 2 weeks and went in for a scan on Thursday. They gave me all the needles and told me to start with the Seprecur the next day. This shuts you down a bit in preparation for the Menopur which I have to start after a week. The Menopur will help the ovaries grow. Hopefully. I don't have to go back until after I have been injecting the Menopur, with a reduced dose of the Seprecur, for a week.

H is away for work for 2 weeks which makes me sad as I had hoped this was something we would do together. But hey ho. Last time I had to do it alone too. I was working funny shifts so was at work and had to slip away to find spare rooms to lay out my needles and potions. It left me feeling slightly sordid. And paranoid I would get caught and have to explain to some random person.

So at least I am home this time even if it is home alone. And H has been calling. He has been very attentive and kind actually.

I thought the actual injecting would be easier, being experienced and everything. But no. I got the needle out on the first day and my butter fingers somehow managed to stab my thumb with it. It swelled up and went purple. H asked when it will ovulate.

I also got confused because the needle point didn't reach the liquid in the phial. It was not until I phoned the nurse that I was realised the obvious. I was supposed to turn it upside down.

I am just not a natural at all this stuff. The next day I panicked because a scab formed. the third day I agonised because I thought maybe the scab meant I wasn't supposed to push the needle point all the way in as I had been. I searched the internet for wisdom, even watching a 'how to inject' video on YouTube. In the end I phoned the nurse again - already irritated with me. She said fine to push it all the way in. The scab would have been because I would have hit a blood vessel. Ouch. that does not sound good