News of the day

Last night, as I lay down to sleep, I felt the unmistakable twitch-flutter in my belly that, for the first time, I was 100% sure was the Kid and not the result of my ever-slowing digestion. It was an exciting end to an already exciting day.

Yesterday morning, at 15 weeks 4 days, I finally heard that wonderful whoosh-whoosh-whoosh that, in spite of having three* (silent) scans so far, made this pregnancy feel more real and viable than ever. Before she applied the gel, the midwife insisted 16 weeks was still early and it could take some time to find the heartbeat, but within moments, there it was, loud and clear, and nothing could have pried the smile off my face.

And then, in the evening, after tucking Missy into bed, my friend NK picked me up for what she had dubbed our “office” Christmas party. For two hours, she and I and five other moms laughed and ate and thoroughly enjoyed the brief respite from 24/7 mommy-ing. It was the first time some of my good friends were in the same room together. It felt like the beginnings of a tribe.

No wonder I was too excited to sleep.

~

*About that third scan….Last Sunday, I took Missy to the playground. It had rained earlier, and most of the play equipment was wet. We hadn’t planned to stay long, but she did convince me to climb aboard the pirate ship. Getting up was not a problem, but on the way down, I slipped, landing hard enough to knock the wind out of me. And apparently I had bumped myself in other places during the fall, most notably, my right eye, which is still sporting quite the shiner more than a week later. (“That’s what I get for trying to be a pirate,” I attempted to joke when one of the other moms at nursery pick-up asked me what had happened.) Once I had caught my breath, I didn’t think the fall had been that serious, I had no cramping or bleeding, and planned to call the midwives the next day, rather than going in to A&E. When I woke up Monday morning, I could feel–but not see–a bruise on my belly, above my uterus. When I reported this to the midwife, along with my rh- blood type, she got me an appointment to come in, have a scan, and get the anti-D injection. Everything looked fine, the baby was dancing around, but all together, it took hours! I was told to report to the wrong department, they couldn’t figure out how to get the injection I needed from the lab and finally decided I needed to have blood drawn first…and on and on and on. At one point, I had to leave to pick up Missy from playgroup, come back, get her a snack, and wait some more. My husband ended up coming after work to take Missy home, give her some dinner, and get her to bed, all while I waited for that injection. But after all that, everything seems to be fine. And no more pirate-ing for me.

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Second-child syndrome #MicroblogMondays

I had my first midwife appointment last Tuesday, and I didn’t blog about it because…there wasn’t much to report. I asked if she would use the Doppler (I still haven’t heard the heartbeat), but she refused, saying it was too early. Mostly, she just went over my history and drew some blood.

It’s sort of been the way this pregnancy has gone so far. The cliché is that the second child gets the shaft, right? Well, with this kid, it’s starting early.

And that’s just to this point. When we have future scans, we have the option of purchasing pictures (what?!?), but I’m sure 3D/4D will not be an option, at least, not locally. I mean, I never got around to finishing my pregnancy scrapbook for Missy/Thumper (we were in the middle of moving to Canada, after all), but I don’t even have anything to put in one for this kid.

There’s also the fact that I’m so exhausted, I haven’t put in the same emotional investment as I did the first time around. I have the multiple daily reminders, mostly in the form of pills and pessaries, that I am, in fact, pregnant, but I have no tangible evidence, not even a blurry ultrasound picture, that I can gaze at and feel my heart skip a few beats. Occasionally, I convince myself I’m feeling a flutter, only to ultimately admit it’s probably just gas.

I want to feel more connected to this pregnancy, to this potential little person growing in my womb, but I’m finding it really difficult right now. Sorry, kid.

Want to participate? Check out Mel’s post to find out how.

heartbeat 

We managed to schedule a local scan, which saved us an entire day of travel. (Actually, we had two of them scheduled at one point. I guess that request for the GP to write a letter on my behalf was redundant.)

Our experience here, with this pregnancy, has already been so different, and it seems it will continue that way. We went to radiology, where they proceeded to do an external ultrasound, which I didn’t even know was possible at this early stage. (I guess all those vag-cam sessions with my first pregnancy were also redundant.) We saw one little bean, heart flickering away, measuring at exactly 7 weeks. The ultrasound machine was not equipped with sound, so we didn’t get to hear that beautiful whoosh whoosh whoosh, and we didn’t get a printout, either. When we met with the doctor, he asked why we were having the scan (the second person today) since they usually don’t do them until 12 weeks. Everyone seemed satisfied with the answer I gave to that question, so it wasn’t like an interrogation or anything.

I had blood drawn yesterday because I’ve been feeling suuuper fatigued, and no one had bothered to check my thyroid levels. Last time, that was something they checked with the first or second beta. My levels were high then, so they put me on medication right away. That doesn’t seem to even be on the fertility clinic’s radar, since they’ve asked for no blood since I called them with my test results. 

I’m sort of hoping it is my thyroid and medication will perk me up a bit. There are days I literally get nothing done because I can’t bring myself to stand, walk, or move for more than a couple of minutes before I have to sit down again.

Missy was with us for the scan. I don’t know how much she understands, but when she pointed to the screen and asked what we were all looking at, Hubby told her it was a baby, and she asked if it was in my tummy. I don’t want to talk about it with her too much because it’s still so early. 1) There’s no guarantee we’ll be holding this baby by next June, and 2) even if there was, that’s a long time for her to have to wait. But, of course, Hubby and I can’t agree on how much she should know and when.

For now, I’m breathing a sigh of relief while also anxiously awaiting the next scan. It’s going to be a long five weeks! 

6 weeks: symptom spotting

As far as I know, I’m still pregnant. I haven’t tested in more than a week, continue to take my meds, and hope for the best. I was able to arrange a scan at the local hospital, saving us a whole day of travel, but it’s still just over a week away (Friday the 13th–eek!). At the moment, my most pronounced symptom is fatigue, followed, somewhat inconsistently, by frequent trips to the bathroom. Needing to pee in the middle of the night was my very first symptom with my first pregnancy, even before a positive test. That has not been the case this time. I also haven’t had a trace of nausea, which is consistent with my previous pregnancy. I was spoiled last time with weekly scans from six to ten weeks, which I definitely won’t get this time, so I have to find some other way to ease my anxiety about the goings-on inside my uterus. It helps that I have a busy girl to keep up with, so I have less down time to obsess.

Side note: These progesterone pessaries are wreaking havoc on our sex life (which hasn’t been great since Missy was born, anyway). It’s not just the…ahem, goo, but everything in my nether regions is just a bit off. Poor Hubby claims I’m glowing and beautiful, and I just keep him at arm’s length and tell him to keep his hands to himself. If all goes well next Friday, he may be looking at a long six weeks until I can stop these things.

Still pregnant #MicroblogMondays

I was congratulated multiple times today. Which feels weird, so early. I called my GP, the maternity unit at our local hospital, and our fertility clinic. I’m still waiting to hear whether or not we can get an early scan done locally, but it’s not looking likely. The fertility clinic wants us to do the scan in the morning because the early pregnancy unit (where they would send us if anything were wrong) closes at noon. But that would mean another overnight stay, something we were hoping to avoid.

In addition to healthcare workers, I’ve told my sister and one friend here (along with, of course, all of you). I may also end up telling the instructor of the hula hoop workout class I recently started. I really want to continue the class, but I don’t want her to think I’m slacking if I take it a little easy!

 Want to participate? Check out Mel’s post to find out how.

9dp5dt


It hasn’t quite sunk in yet. Twenty-four hours ago, I had convinced myself that I wasn’t pregnant. Now I find myself wrestling with the hope, fear, happiness, and disbelief that comes with that second line. As I mentioned before, no betas here, so the plan is to test again tomorrow and the next day, hopefully watching that line turn darker and darker. I’ll probably wait until Monday to call our clinic. They recommend testing 15 days after transfer (I can’t imagine anyone actually waits that long!), but I think that’s more of a “don’t give up hope just yet” strategy. I’ll also call my local GP. Chances are, no one locally will do an early ultrasound, but it’s worth asking to avoid another long day of trains and buses with our 3-year-old in tow. I could make the journey by myself again, but if it’s bad news, I really don’t want to find out alone.

PUPO

This afternoon, while Hubby stayed with Missy in the waiting room, I put my feet into those all-too-familiar stirrups and had two blastocysts (along with something called “embryo glue”) transferred to my uterus. I had been especially nervous about the whole thing when I learned that 1) a nurse, not a doctor, usually does the procedure, and 2) they don’t use ultrasound to guide the catheter. But, in the end, it all went smoothly, and I now have two potential humans residing in my uterus.

Yes. Two.

My husband finally convinced me We agreed that with our history and the fact that it took a total of five embryos to get Missy, it was worth the risk of twins to increase our chances of getting pregnant at all this time around.

I have felt a couple of twinges, but I know that’s just the result of having a plastic tube shoved into my uterus earlier today. I’m not on bed rest or anything, and we will ride the train(s) home tomorrow, hopefully in time to get Missy to her Baby Ballet class.

So that’s it. I’ll probably test in 9 or 10 days, but the clinic doesn’t want me to “give up hope” until 15 days post-transfer, so I’ll have to keep taking my medications at least that long and test again on that day, if I haven’t already gotten a positive. No betas, just waiting. I have a feeling Missy will keep me busy enough that the time will fly.

t.b.d.

I’m right in the middle of a very busy week (Missy’s first week of official public school nursery, Hubby’s 2-day trip to Ireland as an external examiner on a dissertation, meeting a new family for my volunteer work, and of course, my scan on Monday) but wanted to do a quickie update. 

Monday’s appointment was a good news/bad news scenario. My lining looked awesome at a fluffy 10 mm (the minimum requirement to proceed with progesterone and transfer at our clinic is 7 mm). However, because we had transported our embryos in a medium this clinic doesn’t normally use, the thawing medium also had to be imported. Back at the end of June, we were told it could take up to six weeks to arrive. When I asked the nurse to confirm it had arrived–a full nine weeks later–I was told it still wasn’t there, although they were expecting it by the end of the week. So instead of scheduling our transfer for the following Monday, we were once again returned to limboland, waiting for a call from someone who could give us an exact date for the all-important culture medium’s arrival.

That call came today. The thawing medium is now safely in our clinic’s lab, and our new transfer date is Tuesday.  I stop the horrible nasal spray tomorrow evening and commence progesterone pessaries. As of now, the only thing left to-be-determined (assuming at least one of our embryos survives the thaw) is the time of the transfer. Wish us luck!

On the {Rails} Again #MicroblogMondays

I’m on the 7:30 am train, the first of three that will eventually get me to the city for a 1:30 pm lining check (after another 40 minutes on the bus). This is the second time in two weeks I’m making this journey solo. The first was for a blood draw. Yes, 11+ hours round-trip for a single vial of blood.

If all goes well today, our transfer should be early next week. We’ll have to go a day early so Hubby can sign the consent form. But we’ll all be together, and it’s now a running joke that maybe we’ll go to the zoo. (We never do.)

I miss my girl. She was still asleep when I left this morning, and she’ll be asleep by the time I get home tonight. This will officially be the longest we’ve been apart. So I’m feeling a bit sad about that, anxious for today’s appointment, and a mixture of hopeful and resigned for what the future may bring.

I will try to read. I have the green, rolling hills, the mist, and countless sheep for company. But mostly I have too much time to think.
 Want to participate? Check out Mel’s post to find out how.