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.



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.


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.

We are GO! #MicroblogMondays

After two weeks of worst-chest-cold-of-my-life-turned-sinus-infection, I’m finally emerging from the fog. As compensation for my very patient 3-year-old, who has heard “Mommy’s too sick to [fill in the blank],” more times than I care to admit in that amount of time, we had a full day of arcade, sea front, lunch and fancy drinks (preschool style), museum, ice cream, and castle park. It was a good day.

Tomorrow we begin what I hope will be a new chapter in our family’s story. I have a box of meds waiting. I haven’t actually received my calendar yet(!), but I know what I need to take when and how (including one I have to squirt up my nose every four hours!), at least for the next few days. Hopefully I’ll have a calendar in my hands by then.

Two weeks of illness have given me a glimpse of how difficult those early weeks might be, if we’re lucky enough to have this work. With my first pregnancy, the worst part early on was the overwhelming fatigue. I just keep thinking, “Poor Missy. How many times is she going to have to hear, ‘Mommy’s too tired…’?” It will be one of many changes to come (I hope). I have to believe it’ll be worth it. As much as her 3-year-old mind can grasp it, she does want a sibling. (We didn’t bring it up–I swear!) It’s so stinkin’ cute to hear her talk about “our” baby, I can’t help but want to make it more than just a hypothetical for her.

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

The Countdown #MicroblogMondays

I’m expecting day 1 of my next cycle this week. That’s the day I call our clinic to set things in motion for our upcoming FET. The medium for thawing our embryos has been ordered (we were told it could take up to six weeks to arrive!), a calendar will be made up, drugs ordered and sent to our door. Only one question remains: one or two? I thought this was settled during our recent appointment, where our new doctor wrote down in her notes that we’d only transfer two embryos if the first one didn’t look good after the thaw. And yet, the first thing Hubby said to me after that appointment was, “I still think we should transfer two.”

And then my head exploded.

There are so many details, so many factors to consider, including–unfortunately–financial ones. There’s no way to predict how this cycle will turn out, despite our best efforts at control. Hubby wants to maximize our chances, but I’m torn between that and minimizing risk. 

So I’m asking you: pros and cons for transferring two hatching blastocysts? All opinions and anecdotal evidence welcome!
 Want to participate? Check out Mel’s post to find out how.

Movement #MicroblogMondays

It’s been three months since my last blog post. Two of those months were spent preparing for my sister’s visit, while simultaneously feeling very much back in that familiar limbo. We had transported our frozen embryos across the Atlantic back in October and had, at one point, talked about doing a transfer while my sister was here, so we’d have someone to wait with Missy. That didn’t happen, but I’m finally feeling like we’re making some moves in the right direction. Here’s an update:

  1. Zappa came to visit. It was two weeks of aunt-niece bonding, family hikes, laughing at nothing until we both peed, and feeling a renewed sense of appreciation for the beautiful place we now call home. After she left, I was both sad and determined to make a visit to the US soon.
  2. Missy turned three! I both love and loathe this age so far. A couple of months before her birthday, I was already beginning to understand the term “threenager” and why everyone said three was worse than two. Now the mood swings are in full force–so many big feelings!–and it seems her day is not complete unless she’s thrown at least one epic tantrum. But she is also loving and imaginative and has actual friends and loves preschool and can tell me all about her day, which is awesome.
  3. More than a few times, I’ve come across job listings that would be a perfect fit for me. Except for one tiny detail–I have neither a car nor a UK driver’s license. Our aim was to survive as long as possible without a car, but it’s become clear that if I want to work with families and young children in a rural community, I have to be able to drive. Now the question is whether, in the midst of learning to drive on the “wrong” side of the road, I also want to (or have to) learn to drive a manual transmission. I’ve only ever driven an automatic (very American, I know), but both the cars themselves and the instructors with access to them, are hard to come by around here. Either way, this is happening soon.
  4. In the meantime, I’ve begun volunteering. I’m working with families (well, a family), but it’s more focused on mom than the kids, which I’m actually finding more compelling now that I am one.
  5. My hope is that #3 + #4 = finding a job I’m both qualified for and logistically able to pull off.
  6. And I’m finally feeling like that’s possible now that Missy is sleeping! Yes, you read that right. She’s falling asleep without my help and sleeping uninterrupted for 11-13 hours a night! Amazing!
  7. So. Instead of a spring FET, we’re now looking at late summer. Not too bad.
  8. But. That means Missy and I have to work on eliminating that one feed that’s still very much a part of our bedtime routine. This is the part I’m most dreading, but Hubby has tried to convince her that if she wants a sister (she says she does), she has to save the milk for the new baby. While I find the logic adorable, I have to say I’m afraid to get her hopes too high, just in case none of our three embryos results in a sibling for her. The thing about waiting this long for #2 is that #1 understands everything.

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

Albino Gerbils #MicroblogMondays

My daughter has pink eye. Apparently, that is not a commonly used phrase here, so when I texted my friend to tell her this ailment might impinge on our planned play date, she had to ask me what it was, saying that the only thing she could picture was an albino gerbil. 

This is a problem I encounter frequently. Even though I’ve spoken English my entire life, since living here, I often feel like I’m speaking a foreign language. Diapers are nappies; underwear are pants; pants are trousers. If you’re quick with facts and figures, you’re clever, not smart, but you can look smart if you’re dressed well. If your child doesn’t feel well, he’s poorly, but if he’s sick, he’s actually thrown up. It can be dizzying, and half the time, I feel like I’ve inadvertently insulted someone with one of my Americanisms. Or, at the very least, utterly confused them, and probably myself along the way. Missy has already begun correcting my English: “No, Mommy, it’s time for a nappy change.” (Yeah, still not potty trained, don’t ask.) “No, Mommy, throw it in the bin (not trash).”

My year-long job search has been the most glaring example. Not just unfamiliar terms and phrases for concepts and systems I feel I should have a better grasp on by now, but an entire nonsense language of acronyms and abbreviations for those terms (not unlike being thrust into the world of infertility and fertility treatments): TAQA, QCF, GCSE, NVQ, PGCE, LSA, EWC, KS3. 

Albino gerbils abound.

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

Missy at Two…

Plusand a HalfThree-Quarters?…okay, damn near three. But you see how long this post has been in my drafts.

It’s been a while since I’ve done a proper update. After Missy’s second birthday, the weekly babycenter emails I’ve been getting since early in my pregnancy suddenly started referring to my “preschooler.” What?! No! She’s much more toddler than big kid! But at 30 31 33 months, she’s definitely my great big girl, a fact she’s happy to announce to anyone who’ll listen.

And she is a preschooler. She started two mornings a week at the end of September and has settled in nicely. She comes home talking mostly about the grown-ups (which is typical for her; even when we have play dates, she’s much more interested in the mommies than the kids), but she is beginning to play with the tiny people closer to her own age. And there are one or two she tells me she likes to hug (so sweet!).

She is also playing for longer periods by herself. She’ll stay in the playroom for up to 20 minutes while I do some boring thing, like wash dishes or clean the bathroom, although she’s just as happy to “wash” her own dishes right next to me. After ignoring her baby dolls for a while, she’s suddenly all about the babies, feeding and bathing them, giving them medicine and putting them in bed. I attribute her renewed interest to the fact that a few of her playmates have new siblings. I hope it lasts at least until (if) we’re ready to welcome one for her.

Her language skills are booming. Her vocabulary and syntax cover quite a range, sometimes using a single word (“Airplane!”), a complex sentence (“I want to watch something on TV while Mommy makes dinner.”), or anything in between. She makes the most adorable grammatical errors, like referring to herself as “you” (No Mommy help! You do it by yourself!”) or over-generalizing past tense (Mommy camed to get you [me].”) She’s not quite as advanced in Hubby’s language and sometimes insists on speaking to him in English, but she continues to impress him with how quickly she learns new words. She continues to sing, sing, sing, and is more likely to belt it out for all to hear, though she continues to whisper-sing, especially in a crowd.

She understands concepts, like counting (up to 20 in both languages), colors, shapes, before/after, and comparisons. One of her favorite phrases is “it’s just like…” She describes food by shape (“It looks like a circle/square/oval/triangle.”), flavor (“tart,” “sweet,” “a little bit spicy,”), color and temperature. She sings the ABC song and can identify a few letters and numbers. 

Bedtime continues to be a challenge, and lately she’s been waking up at least twice a night. We’re no closer to toilet training than we were months ago. She likes her froggy toilet seat and can climb onto it by herself, but she refuses to take off her pants, let alone her diaper, when sitting on it.

Missy has been amazingly affectionate lately, giving lots of hugs and kisses, and making exclamations such as “I love Aba so much. He’s soo nice!” It turns me into a puddle every time, but then she turns around and says the same thing to her stuffed koala.

Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of challenging moments; she is a stubborn and sensitive nearly-threenager. And just because she can talk your ear off, that doesn’t mean she can always explain her desires or fears (like pooping, or bathing, or the vacuum cleaner). Tantrums are a thing, for sure, but so are intense, tearful freak-outs, sometimes at the most inconvenient times (like trying to get out the door to preschool or, you know, anywhere). Sometimes it’s difficult to be as compassionate with her as I need to be, especially when she insists on so thoroughly disrupting my sleep, but I have to keep reminding myself that’s what she needs. More than learning numbers or colors or how to use the toilet, sometimes she just needs a hug. Don’t we all?