Everydaystranger

29 September 2006
Google Me This
The following Google searches have hit my blog:
cycolgest medicine – aka “Ass Bullets” and “Beaver Bullets”. This is the nice progesterone pessary. You can put it up the bum (but expect an…ahem….active colon if you do so, complete with popping dog farts) or up your hooch, in which case oral sex? So not happening.
ivf pineapple juice acupuncture – Ah yes-the things we will do to get knocked up. I did drink pineapple juice (but I drink it all the time, whether cycling through IVF or not) and I did get knocked up, but hey-I lose my keys all the time, so an embryo got lost, too. Acupuncture? For the next round. Stay tuned.
breasts very mushy after miscarriage – Well, mine weren’t. As of Day 1 of miscarriage, my boobs shot right back to normal. And I’m really, really sorry about your miscarriage. I really am.
constipation day 1 early in the 2ww – Nope, not me. Try Cyclogest. It’s like prunes for the beaver.
period and bleeding and black and brown blood – oooh, dunno. I’m not a doctor, I just play one on TV.
twins 13 weeks pregnant nausea – Nope, not me either. But hey-you’re one lucky cow.
FET and progynova – Progynova has to be the best of the IVF drugs-a neat tiny little pill that you take (depending on where you are in your cycle) either twice or three times a day to get your uterine lining Charmin thick and soft. It’s a side effect-less wonder. Pills are good.
symptoms of twisted ovaries – Ouch. Sorry, mine’s just a name. My problem is that I haven’t got any tubes, but I’m sorry about your ovaries, ma’am.
Likewise – why do my ovaries hurt – Could be ovulating, could be PCOS, could be a cyst…but if they hurt, probably a good idea to make a date with a speculum.
ivf treatment and drinking 2 litres of water – Sooooooooo important. Even though you feel like all a fireman has to do is hook a hose to your bladder and you can put out a block of house fires, keep drinking. Dehydration is IVF’s enemy.
progesterone suppositories ivf tampon – seriously, I have no idea what’s up with this search. Seriously.
light positive at 10dp3dt – sounds like you’re pregnant, then. Rock on! Congrats!
miscarriage when get next period – It could be anything from normal time (28 days) to 6-8 weeks. My period showed up four weeks later, which I am pleased about. It’s a difficult wait, and I am really sorry.
5dp3dt – aka “torture”. Pure torture. I hear ya’.
5dp3dt + hot flashes – Could be the drugs (which do cause hot flashes), could be you’re knocked up. Resist the urge to test! Hang in there!
buserelin ivf – sounds like you’re on my side of the pond, since I’ve not heard of an American clinic using it. Buserelin is a suppression medication, designed to whip you into a state of menopause so that you can get ready to go into egg production overdrive. Personally, I’ve found it easier to take than Suprecur, which is a nasal spray. Suprecur turns me into Super Psycho Woman (not to be confused with Wonder Woman), while Buserelin just gives me hot flashes and makes me cry…a lot.
viability scan-the shittiest name for a scan EVER. Yes, it’s to check and see if that positive you see on the pregnancy test is a winner or not, but the name? “Viability scan”?
The period has ended, more or less-the first two days the cramps were so bad I was throwing up and I had to wear super plus tampons AND a pad, which I would soak through within an hour. But then, the hemorrhaging ended. I am down to a light trickle.
And now we have a two+ month wait until we kick off the next cycle, during which time I will twiddle my thumbs a lot.
Posted at 08:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBack (0)

25 September 2006
Go Tell It On The Mountain…
My period has finally come.
And it’s a deluge that hurts like a motherfucker, but beggars and all that.
This puts our cycle-upcoming period dependant, of course-right around the New Year, at which point down-reg will kick off and we swing into our next IVF cycle.
(anyone know of anyone who had a successful IVF cycle after an IVF m/c?)
Posted at 07:57 AM in In-Between Times | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBack (0)

24 September 2006
Tagged
Meri-Ann tagged me (you know Meri-Ann? Meri-Ann is spiffy. Meri-Ann just got knocked up then knocked out at the same time as I did. We like Meri-Ann.) and I aim to please.
My four words are:
Scrotum – Now, in general, testes? Not so attractive. And I’ve seen a few sets in my life (please, you didn’t think you were reading the blog of a chick that hadn’t seen action, were you?) Testes are a good idea-tidy little handbag to carry goods around in-but in general, not so cute…except Aidan’s. Now, I am certainly biased, but even from a non-biased “I have seen me some testicles” perspective, his are the best (I tell him this a lot). My favorite thing to do is come up behind him, pull his pants down, and fondle him while he’s cooking. Doesn’t mean dinner’s going to get done very quickly, but I love the power rush.
Television-the second love of my life. Unlike many men, Aidan didn’t have to try to butter me up to approve a big-screen plasma TV purchase-in fact, we have two, a 32-inch in the kitchen and a 42-inch in the lounge. I love TV, I have no problem whatsoever admitting that. People who don’t have TV? Creepy.
Thrill-I have had big thrills (sky-diving, scuba-diving with sharks) and little thrills (my own personal pound bag of Twizzlers, which I only have to share with the dog as no one else here likes them but me). I’m not much of a thrill seeker, but I’ll take my chances from time to time (I gave myself 20 Euros to gamble with in Monaco. Hey Big Spender!)
Pyjamas-third love of my life (I have many loves of my life. My fourth is probably some form of carbohydrate). The minute I get home from work, the pyjamas go on. I walk the dog in pyjamas. I watch TV in pyjamas. Weirdly, I don’t sleep in them unless I’m ill, have my period, or have suppositories stuffed up various body cavities. I don’t wear them to the shop but if it were culturally acceptable so help me God, I would.
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21 September 2006
Mr. Chunky, Anyone?
My uterus feels like it is made out of concrete. I have one great big blob of concrete I am carrying around inside of me, and it is the artist formerly known as “the embryo receptacle”. My stomach is even jutting out and it’s not due to any baby-type of goodness, it is because I am carrying a womb the size of George Michael’s head (with the 80’s hair, of course).
I can only hope that it’s so big because it’s about to gush forth like my upcoming career in the circus-the RE told me my period (which, as they said, isn’t really a period it’s the final expelling of “the product”, like it’s something I can test to see if it’s mushy or ripe and then put it on the scale in the local market) would be very heavy. If my engorged creepily stiff uterus is any indication, I may just wear a garbage bag for a diaper if/when the “product expelling” finally happens.
I’ve had pretty massive PMS symptoms-last week my breasties were the size of Mt. St. Helen’s and just as sensitive. I bloat and look like someone who needs the blueberry juice squeezed out of her. I’m the kind of girl that doesn’t actually like chocolate that much with the exception of a 5 day window in which the only things I want to eat are chocolate, bread, and salt (combined if I can get it that way). I also truly don’t like salt at all but I know when PMS is around as I generally want to install a salt lick in the back garden and stand around out there shooting the breeze with Mr. Ed.
I had all of that.
Then it went away.
Now I have a distended abdomen that is 100% pure Florida orange uterus. I am also nauseous like all get out. And no-I’m not pregnant.
I know this because I took a pregnancy test.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
*inhales deep breath*
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Yeah, I found a dusty old one from my cycle in April and gave it a shot. It was as pure and virginal as Jessica Simpson once was. I had briefly wondered, based on the swelling and stomach cramps and the nausea, if perhaps I could be one of those miracle cases on Google: Slightly Nuts Infertile Woman Goes On To Have Genius Baby Girl, After Doctors Told Her She’d Miscarried And She Drank Enough Wine to Boost Australia’s Gross Export Figures!
But not to be.
And this may sound all “sour grape-y” but I was actually ok at seeing the absolutely negative home pregnancy test, it’s like a line being drawn under everything for me.
I have been seeing an acupuncturist as well and I’m pleased I am. We are only treating my bad back until I get my period then I will kick off uterine treatments-as we have a few months we have time to get things in good shape. Maybe nothing comes of it, but I do have to admit it helps my back, and every time I go there I pass clean out on the table which-as I’m an extremely stressy person-is a pleasant surprise. When I leave the appointment, I always feel extremely hot (temperature-wise, because upon leaving I have bed head and always look slightly zonked so my chances of pulling are nill, especially with my freakishly heavy uterus) and need great quantities of bottled water.
I don’t mind acupuncture, I think it’s good. I don’t think it’s the end-all be-all of holisitc living, but I do quite like it and feel confident about it. I was talking to the acupuncturist and told her about my views on it.
She nodded. “Lots of people use it for pain management.”
I shrug, pins in the back of my leg. “I know, but I can’t see using it as anesthetic. I mean, surgery sucks big time, the drugs are the only good part.”
Sticking another needle in, she smiles “I just read an article about a man who had lung surgery. When they do lung surgery, they have to saw off ribs, so he had local anesthetic and some acupuncture to manage the pain. He said it worked!”
I think about this. “Yeah, see,” I say slowly. “I think that’s pretty fucked up.”
“You know, I agree with you. I’d be wanting drugs.”
I have a very realistic acupuncturist.
She offered to help “bring on the period” with acupuncture, but Aidan was against it so I’ve passed. He feels “bringing on the period” is interfering with nature. He has, however, had a turn-around on using acupuncture for IVF (he always supported it for back pain). It happened when I rang my clinic.
The lead RE nurse, who we call Anne Robinson (because she’s so tiny and so cynical), answered. She sounded rushed, but I had questions, so I persevered.
Q: Did you find an egg share match for me for sure?
A: Yes, she’s ecstatic and ready to go.
Q: You’re closed for two weeks over Christmas?
A: We’re closed for two weeks over Christmas.
Q: So we can go away then, even if we’re down-regulating?
A: You an go away then, even if you’re down-regulating.
Q: One last question-I’ve been seeing an acupuncturist, and she says that acupuncture can help success rates. What’s the clinics view on this?
A: Oh we’re big supporters of acupuncture. It has a tremendous effect on the success rates. We have an acupuncturist that can do acupuncture the German-style before and after transfer but can’t see people outside of that. Definitely go for acupuncture.
*crickets*
So…like…they didn’t think to mention acupuncture 9 fucking months ago, when we started the latest rounds and how it could help then? This, from the woman who was all “transfer only one, it’ll work, it’ll be greeeeeaaaaaaaaaaa”t? They didn’t think to mention that the little needles, they might be a nifty idea? Nice.
Acupuncture it is.
And we have used up a buy-one-get-one-free voucher and air miles to fly business class to Seattle to visit my dad just after Christas, and then we spend New Year’s skiing at Whistler (we hope to book the accommodation today, we find it slightly overwhelming). We come back the first week of January and we fly back on first class, something I’ve never done on a trans-Atlantic flight, ever.
Now that’s the best way to relax.
More from me soon-I’ve a post brewing on how it feels to be the bridesmaid and never the bride, but for now, I have to babysit my concrete womb.
Posted at 10:28 AM in In-Between Times | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBack (0)

17 September 2006
Black Cats, Footballers, and What the Hell is Wrong With My Uterus?
So I am pretty much back to normal. The crying jags are over. I do fall into a serious funk from time to time (see: Rivers of Depression, aka Going to the Dark Side) but then I watch mindless TV, swig directly from the bottle or point out the Rorschach art that roadkill makes, and I am ok again. I do think about the child that almost was a lot, but I guess that’s normal.
Aidan and I have also vowed that what we both need is to look forward. The clinic confirmed that I have a donee match, and so she and I will be needle twins the end of December/beginning of January (period permitting. Mine, that is.) Besides restrictions we have on me reading endless IF blogs (see again: Despair, Pit Of) he’s put the kaibosh on me endlessly Googling because nothing good comes of endless Googling. When he asked me why I was seemingly so driven, I realized just how pathetic the truth really is-it’s because I wanted to know why we miscarried. I know, I know-the majority of the time no one knows why, it just happens. It’s a crap shoot, and I got the shit hand. Stupidly, maybe I thought some obscure website would shed light on it, if I went through enough Google pages I’d find an obscure reference on ilovemybroccoli.com and the whole loss would suddenly make sense.
Of course, I am a fucking idiot.
I also struggled with the “what-ifs” a lot. What if I had stayed completely and utterly flat on my back that weekend the bleeding started, instead of getting up to pee? Like, I could use a bed pan and subject Aidan to the World of Clots (soon to be a family-oriented theme park)? What if I’d taken weeks off work? What if I hadn’t booked that hair appointment (both my IVF losses occurred around the time I booked an appointment to cut my hair. The next cycle I have, I’m going to be Lady Fucking Godiva, there’s no way I’m cutting my hair in protocol time ever again).
Then my Asian family (who just left) came in and shook a whole world of Japanese folklore all over the place. My extremely cool step-grandma (the teeny-tiniest Japanese woman you’ll ever meet, but Jesus Christ that woman can take down some hot tea) saw a picture of a Sparrow’s nest we’d taken in a barn.
“Oooooh! Very good ruck!” she cooed (I feel I can poke fun at Asian speech patterns because I am part Asian. That, and because it’s funny.) “Sparrow’s nest-very good ruck. You keep. Take them down, and no good ruck. All bird’s nests good ruck. You keep.”
(Translation-if “a”= “b+x” and “y=10 to the tenth power”, then “ruck=luck”).
And I remembered the weekend the bleeding started, and how on Monday I was still flat on my back enjoying the new glory that were “The Red Blood Clots Formerly Known as Brown Spotting” , and that the chimney sweep turned up that day (this wasn’t a surprise, I’d booked the chap). I lay on the couch while he cleaned our chimneys (I’m sure there’s a sexual inneundo there, but as the sweep was a really nice man who wasn’t at all my type I’ll let it pass). In two of our fireplaces we had massive birds nests-the former house owner was a bit of a dozy cow who was a professional gardner. Her former partner (before he died, of (we think) HIV, in (we think) this house) was the one who did the house renovations (badly, in some areas) and the fireplaces hadn’t been used since 1986 (we know this as we found newspapers stuffed up the chimneys). As we bought the house in March we didn’t need to use the fireplaces but with Fall coming soon we suspect we’ll start to need to. So the nice sweep came, he saw, and he kicked two massive birds’ nests ass.
Immediately, when my cute tiny relative said that we must keep the birds’ nests, I thought: Oh Jesus, maybe that’s it. It’s not on ilovemybroccoli.com-it’s birds’ nests! If only I’d kept those fucking things, the pregnancy might have worked!
The thought, of course, disappeared-I struggled to see how a pile of twigs would correllate to my hemorrhaging uterus.
But superstitions reign anyway. Infertile women are worse than athletes. Athletes have the reputation of being hideously superstitious-footballers who wear the same jock strap they wore when they scored their first goal, grown men who would otherwise kick your ass tremble before the black cat crossing your path (This, too throws me for a loop-I’ve seen a black cat in the neighborhood around the time of both transfers and it causes me distress-a black cat crossing your path in the States is a bad thing, here it’s a good thing. I struggle-I’m an American in England, does this mean it’s bad or it’s good? Is it the real thing? Why am I craving Sanka?) Infertile women are no different-socks! No socks! Acupuncture! No acupuncture! Bed rest! No bed rest! Shag Santa Claus! Leave Santa alone!
We all have our things that we are convinced make a difference, but maybe at the end of the day, it’s just a crap shoot. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. The last FET I had, the one that worked and then it didn’t? No socks, bed rest, and lots of pineapple juice (but then, I drink pineapple juice a lot, I love the stuff). But that was just one cycle-maybe none of it had anything to do with anything, I just had a spiffy lining, a rocking embryo, and a positive outlook (which I do think helps, really).
I’m still waiting for my period over here. We’ll know more about my next protocol once that comes. I also need my yearly pap smear, so I guess I get to have my chimney cleaned, too (I couldn’t stop myself, sorry).
If you need me, I’ll be coaxing Toucan Sam into my chimney.
Posted at 12:14 PM in In-Between Times | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBack (0)

14 September 2006
Tomorrow
Tomorrow is the would-be birthday of the embryos my very first round of IVF, done back in 2001 (yes, I have been at the IVF table much longer than anyone else I know, although I had a break of two years while I went through a something called a divorce).
I struggle with it sometimes, especially now, as I miscarried in my 6th week, or what I think of as “bigtime”.
The embryos were from my very first round of IVF, back in my training wheel days, aka that mystical wonder known as “IVF #1″ which my ex-husband and I went through in Stockholm, Sweden. I had a positive result for a number of days only, but a number of days was enough for me. In Stockholm at the time of embryo transplant they also graced you with the proposed birthdate of the embryos, which is why I know what date they would’ve been born.
I wonder if they still do that.
I called the embryos Egg and Bacon-Egg from the John Irving novel, and Bacon because what else goes with Egg (this was before my vegetarianism kicked in)? The funny thing is, I went into the IVF round with severe reservations-my ex and I weren’t doing well and I had wanted to adopt all along, which is a topic he wouldn’t even entertain. I wasn’t keen on IVF, I didn’t want to be there…but from the moment they transferred the embryos, there was nothing else in the whole world I wanted more than for them to work. I couldn’t believe it-the desire to be a mother became so incredible I could barely breathe. Despite the OHSS, the difficulties, the freezing fucking Swedish winter and the cycling over Christmas, there was nothing else I hoped for as much as that.
The cycle worked.
Then it didn’t.
It led to an FET round where (as according to Swedish law) I transferred only one embryo. It didn’t work but I didn’t for one second think it would do. I was positive it would fail, and it did.
We split, and the remaining frozen embryos were destroyed, also as according to Swedish law, which states that if a couple busts up, the embryos become property of the furnace.
It’s true that Egg and Bacon had the shortest existence I could’ve imagined. It’s as Aidan says-more likely, they never were. They may have been a blighted ovum. It was most likely chemical. It was probably just Egg or Bacon, not both. I know this now, years later when I am more cynical and investigative. I know this now, when I have just had a Miscarriage-the Real Thing. I know this now, as I have sloped on the other side of the “30″ line.
But it doesn’t stop my mind from insisting that for just a very short while, they were real. Maybe it’s because for so many cycles, I’ve needed something to cling to. Perhaps it’s because I tried to be so positive for something I wanted so much.
I like to think it’s because it was real, no matter how short a time it was.
Happy Birthday, Egg and Bacon.
If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get sloshed now.
Posted at 05:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBack (0)

11 September 2006
So Screwed Up
My body is currently profoundly screwed up.
I have stopped bleeding, and am even sleeping in the buff again, which is something that I haven’t been able to do since the introduction of the ass/beaver bullets in July. I like food again, and although my apetite isn’t back to normal completely, I don’t think that’s because of the hcg in the system anymore.
This house? She is clean.
But I am showing obvious signs of ovulating. It’s bang on the normal symptoms I usually have-a strange feeling in my stomach, lots of discharge of a specific nature, and the feeling of being rather on. I don’t understand this-according to both the clinic and the A&E, periods generally take 6-8 weeks after a miscarriage to jump in. This would put my period at 4 weeks after the miscarriage, which I don’t think is the norm.
Then again, I have been on so many drugs that my body likely has no idea what’s going on. It could be the equivalent of my ovaries sneezing right now, and not ovulating after all. I wouldn’t mind having a period-at least that way I would feel that the house wasn’t just clean, the house would’ve been through a round of Hazmat. That, and I would somehow be back to “normal”, a period would be relatively healing, and last but not least-we could at least plan when the next round would possibly take place.
We are still leaning towards starting suppression over the Christmas holidays. The hormones don’t cause me much grief other than makes me very weepy, but I have a feeling Christmas is going to have me feeling very weepy anyway, so chucking Buserelin into the equation can’t hurt. This is all period-dependent of course, but at least it’s a plan.
We’re also debating going away over Christmas/New Years as we have two free business class tickets on BA, but the only places with availability then are Tokyo, Seattle, and Taiwan, none of which are very appealing during the heart of wintertime. Who knows.
I went to Harley St in London the other day to see an acupuncturist. Harley St is where all the doctors and dentists you could ever need are located-it’s also hideously posh and expensive, with prices to reflect it. There are many plastic surgeons, psycho-therapists, and (of course) fertility clinics. The acupuncturist I went to was between two clinics, and there were more pregnant women walking on that street than there would be in all the Baby Gaps in the country.
I went to the acupuncturist for my back actually-I have a very bad back which is exacerbated from stress, so the past two weeks I’ve been walking like an old woman. I called this clinic (which is located in a fabulous building) and went for my first appointment. Strangely, she is an American. She did help my back, and we also talked about IVF-she said there is significant data to back up the success rates of IVF and acupuncture. We talked more and she advocated me making sure I played with my cervical ovulation mucus when I discharged to make sure it’s sticky (thereby conjuring images of me throwing it against the wall with my spaghetti to check if it was al dente or not) and we discussed period blood clots in detail. Aidan thinks acupuncture for the back is ok, but acupuncture for IVF = quackdom. I’m not sure if I believe it will help or not, I think I need to research more.
I will probably take up the acupuncture for my next cycle, though. It doesn’t hurt anything, and as we don’t have many cycles left in us, if I get to the end of this journey sans baby I would like to be able to hold my head up and say we tried everything we could, that there would be no regrets.
We’ll see.
In the meantime, I am trying to tune back in to my body and all that it is, which right now is confusing and screwed up.
Posted at 10:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBack (0)

03 September 2006
The End of the Beginning
The bleeding is (finally) nearly done.
It’s true that my breasts went down in size overnight, but the hcg still wrecked havoc on me for several days, meaning that I was still nauseaous. That too has now passed.
I had the classical symptoms of pregnancy-heightened sense of smell, nausea, exhaustion, night sweats, larger breasts, and the frequent need to pee (due to the kidneys working overtime, not due to heavy baby on bladder).
I have just had all of the classic signs of miscarriage-fading pregnancy symptoms, bleeding and/or passing of tissue or blood clots, and period-like cramps.
There are other side effects of miscarriage that they don’t talk about. Your face breaks out, and it does it badly. I had more spots on my chin that I did in my entire teenage life.
The bleeding isn’t just “a little bit of blood”-I bled and bled and bled. Blood clots and tissue came out at various times and here’s something they also don’t tell you-it doesn’t smell good. You get the indignation of not only bleeding out that “perfect lining” you worked so hard to build up, but you are also a walking personal disgrace. I’m a neat freak and I wasn’t remotely happy that the stuff coming out didn’t smell nice (a common side effect, my RE said. Funny how no web pages talk about that.)
The cramps, too, aren’t period cramps. I’m a tough chick when it comes to pain (but I often have bad period cramps severe enough to send me running for the hardcore ibuprofen). These cramps beat those cramps without question-the only time I’ve ever felt worse than what I just had was on my very first IVF cycle, I had what was recently diagnosed a mild case of OHSS. Then, even walking was an agony worthy of screaming crying jags. The miscarriage cramps were not the blue ribbon winner of cramps but came second worst in history, equivalent to the cramps I had after egg retrieval this last time, where they gave me pethidine. One week ago today I was still potentially viably pregnant, so all I could take was paracetamol and curl up and breathe through my mouth as each cramp came and went.
The bleeding was constant but, for the first time in my life, managed with regular or lite tampons. My insides though are so incredibly sore that often I resorted to pads because I simply couldn’t bear the agony of the tampon applicator.
In short, this has been the worst experience of my life so far.
I read other blogs where the bloggers can’t wait to finish miscarrying so they can get started on their next cycle. I can’t wait to finish simply because I want the symptoms to all go away. My next cycle is (period dependent) end of the year-the RE wants me to have two periods and I think that’s imminently sensible, too. I need time to not only recover but to emotionally prepare myself, but my next cycle feels so fucking far away.
I also know other bloggers seem to have a great sense of humor about miscarrying, but I’m struggling with it.
Tuesday on that horrible drive home, Aidan asked me what I wanted. I sat there and thought before replying: “I want unpasteurized cheese. With a side of uncooked shellfish.”
He looked over at me. “Undercooked eggs on the side?”
“Yes please. And some pt.”
We laughed. And then I cried. And when he went to the shops to get food, I had-for the first time in a month-written down something I wanted.
He bought me chocolate chip cookies.
He did not bring home the other thing I had on the list-”Mind Altering Drugs”.
Friday we broke open the champagne and celebrated the end of the worst week of our lives, and the end of August 2006-a month of startling highs and stunning lows.
The truth is, I do feel pretty positive about cycling again. While I’d hate to hear it from others, the good news is that I am indeed able to get pregnant and stay pregnant-true, we miscarried but the RE said it’s most likely I miscarried because there was something genetically wrong with the child, not because I’d done something wrong and not because my body couldn’t manage it (the u/s where we saw the one embryo also looked good, so I feel reasonably ok about that.)
What I do worry about is the 2ww + 2 weeks before scan next time. I have a feeling I’m going to be supremely worried.
I don’t ever want to feel like this again.
I suppose what gets me most of all is the fact that everything I dreamt came true. I dreamt of positive pregnancy tests and I got them. I dreamt of one implanting and I got that too. Then I dreamt of a toilet bowl full of blood-a toilet in a public place I had never seen before-and a week later I got that, too. It was exactly as I had seen it in my dream, and when I saw it I freaked out in the hospital and started sobbing and shaking.
Everyone looked at me like I was crazy.
And then two nights ago I dreamt I took a pregnancy test. It was one I hadn’t seen before, it was some kind of test that showed a “+” in a window, and the + comes up in pink? Rings any bells, or just my imagination? Anyway, the + has one line that’s a control line, and the other part of the +, if it appears, means a positive result (is this a real test or should I up my dosage?). In my dream, the line was faint but it was there-there was a positive pregnancy.
Maybe it’ll happen, maybe it won’t.
I still cry a lot, but at least I am trying to look forward-but most IF and pregnancy sites are far too hard to deal with and at least one blogger has been stricken off, so don’t be angry if I’m not around for a while.
It’s called, ironically, baby steps.
-PS-I am trying to move my site. I have a new domain set up but it’s not ready yet. When it’s moved, it will be here.
Posted at 08:16 AM in FET #1(2)-The Miscarriage | Permalink | Comments (21) | TrackBack (0)