Bad mother?

I don’t even know if the IVF has been successful yet but I’m already thinking I’m a bad mother. I haven’t been looking after myself properly. I can’t have been as I’m run down. I have a coldsore. I never get coldsores. I have what is, at worst, a chest infection and at best, a nasty whoopy cough and a cold.

The problem is that I don’t have the sort of job where if I phone in sick the work will wait or someone else will pick it up for me. If I phone in sick there’s a group of year 6 kids left without an instructor to run activities for them.

I felt a bit better yesterday morning too and, as I wasn’t in until lunchtime I was able to have a lie-in. What I would have done, if I wasn’t such a bad mother, is go to the doctor. But I didn’t. I chose to stay in bed instead hoping it would pass. Then, in the evening, I took 30 children on a night walk in the wind and the rain for an hour and a half. The kids loved it. The teachers loved it. I did my job well. I now feel like crap ๐Ÿ˜ท

Now it’s Saturday. I have been sent home from work by my good friend and colleague who has said they will work it out. I need to be in bed. I’m not a good mother. I had to be told to go home. I do, however, have a strong work ethic. Maybe my priorities are all wrong. Perhaps I’m too stuck in my ways. I was told ‘normal life’ and this is ‘normal’ for me.

Typically, as it’s Saturday, I now can’t see the doctor. Bad mother.

Passing the baton from science to nature

So today went as well as it could I guess. The whole procedure of having two embryos inserted into my uterus was remarkably easy. The hardest thing was having to have a full bladder and worrying I was actually going to pee on Dr. Massoud. I don’t think that would have gone down too well ๐Ÿ˜ฎ

When we arrived at the hospital we had a chat with one of the embryologists who informed us that both embryos had developed well. They like to see between 6 and 8 cells at this stage and both of ours were split into 8 which is great. The not such good news was that out of a grading of 1 to 4 (with 1 being the best quality) both of ours were graded 3. This means that either the cells weren’t equal in size and/or there was some fragmentation of the cells. Still, they wouldn’t transfer them unless they believed there was a chance, albeit about 1 in 15.

Saying it like that though, 1 in 15, sounds better than between 5 and 10%. I can imagine myself in a group of 15 people and being the only one who likes spiders or who is coeliac or who is an outdoor teacher. Being the only one to get pregnant in that group of people doesn’t seem quite so out of reach after all.

Still, from now on, it is all in the hands of nature. Science has done its bit. It all boils down to whether or not the lining of my uterus accepts those precious little packages of cells. It could accept neither, it could accept one and it could accept both (giving us the possibility of having quads as Gwen the hilarious nurse mentioned??!!) ๐Ÿ˜ฎ

So I have been sent home with a little picture of the moment the embryos went shooting from the catheter into my uterus and instructions to just get on with life as normal, without overdoing it and getting too stressed. On Monday 27th March – two weeks from now – I have to take a pregnancy test and then all will be revealed.

Surprisingly I actually feel quite calm about the whole thing now. The last two weeks have been fairly stressful and yesterday was just damn awful but now it’s really out of my hands. It will either work or it won’t. This is our only chance. We only get one shot on the NHS and we can’t afford to go privately. In all seriousness, even if we could afford it, I don’t think I’d do it. Perhaps if we’d had spare to freeze we might have gone down that route but we didn’t so there’s not point thinking about it.

If it doesn’t work then I just have to get used to the fact my life will be childless. I won’t be the only woman on this planet who wants children but can’t have them. Elton has a daughter who I love very much. We will be ok. Life goes on. We will probably go on some faraway holiday somewhere. I have my back up plan of the numerous triathlons that I have scheduled for this year as well as a 100 mile closed road cycle sportive in September. My mind will be occupied with training. I have my dog. I have my friends. I have a good life and we are happy.

I just want to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has been reading this blog and giving us their support. It means a lot. It’s been an interesting journey which isn’t quite over yet… ๐Ÿ™‚

Longest day ever.

My mistake. I was expecting a call before 11. I never got one. Imagine what that did to my mental state. Actually don’t. By the time I did get the call (around 3pm) the inside of my brain probably resembled scrambled egg. 

Anyway, next hurdle crossed. Midday tomorrow we go back into The Royal Shrewsbury where I will have both developed embryos transferred into my womb. That’s the good news.

The bad news is that the success rate for a sticking pregnancy for someone of my age is between 5 and 10%. Oh boy. The odds really are stacked against us.

The next two weeks are going to be hell. 

Tense morning or what??!!

If I thought I was tense yesterday, it was nothing to how I was feeling this morning. After a night of broken sleep, constantly needing to pee and very weird dreams, I finally woke up around 8:30. Then the anxiety started. When were they going to phone? I felt sick. I managed a cup of tea but food was out of the question. I spent ages on Facebook looking at stupid videos in an attempt to distract myself from the reality. The reality that there could be bad news, that this could be the end of our journey.

10:00 the phone rang. Jason the embryologist has a soothing voice but was giving nothing away. After he’d confirmed my name and date of birth it happened. ‘Well, it’s good news’. Oh my goodness, the relief that washed over me in that instant was almost overwhelming. I’m glad I was sitting down. Once he’d let me catch my breath he checked that I was in a position to take in all the information. I was. So, the ‘mass’ that they found wasn’t an egg so it was definitely 3 eggs that were taken. That’s fine. The third egg wasn’t mature so that was a no go. Back to the original two eggs. BOTH FERTILISED!! Massive hurdle over ๐Ÿ™‚

Jason was very pleased. ‘That’s a 100% success on your viable eggs’. Whoo-hoo! So now I just have to wait until tomorrow to find out if these precious little packages are going to develop into embryos. Apparently each one has a 90% chance of becoming an embryo which is pretty high but it’s not plain sailing. Of course then there’s the major issue of my womb accepting them if they do develop but we’ll cross each hurdle as we get to it. For now at least, we can semi relax, until the anxiety of tomorrow’s phone call sets in…

I managed to get hold of Elton half way up Snowdon with a group. He’s over the moon. Must have been super hard for him setting off for work this morning not knowing what was going on, when I was going to get the phone call, whether he’d have signal to speak to me. At least he is going to be distracted for the rest of the day by work. I, on the other hand, am going to need to do something, anything to keep my mind off things for a while!

D day. Or should that be E day?

This morning was tense. Capturing the first pee of the day in a pot and then doing a pregnancy test. This was positive but does not mean I’m pregnant, it just showed that the hCG injection I had to take at exactly 10:00pm on Wednesday had worked. Then it was nil by mouth all morning which automatically just made me hungry and thirsty. Just before leaving mum and dad’s I had to administer an up the bum antibiotic – lovely – before heading off to the hospital.

Once there it was paperwork, blood pressure (which was surprisingly normal by the way), a chat with Gwen the nurse, with Jason the embryologist and Dr Magani the gynecologist. Also a cannula was put in my hand and I was made to change into the sexy gown. 

At 10:00 I was taken into the procedure room where had to lie in a very ungainly position with my legs a kimbo. I was given happy drugs then everything goes a bit fuzzy. I remember being talked through what was going on and why it was more painful towards the end. I also remember them talking about 3 eggs. I could definitely feel the pain but it’s all very vague ๐Ÿ˜

Next thing I remember is coming round in recovery with Elton there. As I started to get a bit more compos mentos I was given a cup of tea and some gluten-free cornflakes (they had no biscuits) and then it was explained to me that they had managed to get 3 eggs plus an additional ‘mass’ which could be a 4th egg. Way to go!

Now I am back at mum and dad’s eating my weight in mini Daim bars (we went to IKEA yesterday), drinking tea, watching crap TV and getting Bailey cuddles. Elton has had to head home as he’s working all weekend.

The waiting game has started. I’ve done my bit, Elton has done his bit. It’s now down to the combined work of Science and Nature to see if this journey continues or stops here. Distractions definitely required until the phone call tomorrow morning from the embryologist letting us know whether fertilisation has taken place…

Could be Friday, could be Monday…

So I’m currently sat in the little cafe at the Royal Shrewsbury Hospital, waiting to hear if I’m going for egg collection on Friday or Monday. 

Original schedule was for Monday but apparently, following this morning’s scan, I have two mature follicles and, if my blood results are in line, egg collection  (of my only 2 eggs) will be done on Friday. 

This is a bit of a shock really as I thought I had the weekend to prepare, which I still might. Need to wait here as I am staying on the original timeline then I need more drugs. So I’m waiting. And waiting.

Luckily mum is with me as Elton is underground working today. We went to Shrewsbury for some lunch and a walk along the river but we got bored of walking so we’re back here. Waiting.

If it is Friday then I need to get hold of the hubby asap as he needs to drain his pipes. Now. Nothing like a bit of pressure ๐Ÿ˜œ

And so I wait. 

EDIT: So egg collection is now set for 10am on Friday. Half eggcited and half petrified.

Eggs

I guess it’s time to talk about eggs. You’ve guessed it, as this is a blog about IVF I’m not really talking about the kind of eggs that people eat, I’m talking about the ones that grow in follicles in women’s ovaries. However, bar inserting a tiny camera into my ovary, I’m never going to get a picture of said eggs so everyday eggs, in a bowl, at mum and dad’s will have to do. I could take one off the internet but I’m not going to. I quite like this picture of eggs. Anyway, I digress…

Today was day one of blood tests/scan week. I have to go back on Wednesday for the same thing and then again on Friday. The aim of these tests is to see if the drug I am taking (Menopur) is working. It isย meant to be stimulating my ovaries so that follicles grow and within each follicle an egg is harvested.

I arrived at the hospital a little flustered to be honest. My scan wasn’t until 11:30 and I left North Wales in plenty of time but there were about a million roadworks on the way and every single tractor and slow lorry and caravan that could be out was out. It must be national drive slow day today or something. Unfortunately I didn’t get the memo. I actually got to the car park at 10:50 which was fine but I had to have bloods taken before and I was worried that, at this time of day, it would be really busy. My mind was soon set at ease when I walked in and there were only 3 people in front of me. Time to calm down. I’m glad no one was taking my blood pressure as I’m sure it was through the roof this morning.

I was then actually early for my scan and, as the person in front of me in the queue was running late, probably stuck in the same traffic I was, I got taken straight in. Today my ovaries were not playing hide and seek, they were there, very clearly (apparently) for the scanner to see. So all in all the whole process was very quick. In fact, I was out of the scan room before I was even meant to be in there! Very efficient. Next it was a meeting with the nurse.

I was seeing Gwen today. She’s very straight talking. Apparently I should be over the moon. I have one follicle in my right ovary which is 10mm. This might grow so it’s a ‘possible’. In my left ovary I have three follicles, one of 14mm, one of 12mm and one of 6mm. Apparently the 6mm one is a write off (it is very unlikely to grow any bigger) but the other two are ‘dead certs’. For someone of my age and with my blood results this is eggsellent news (see what I did there). So why do I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach?

These results mean that I am likely to get 2 eggs, possibly 3 eggs for collection next week. Let’s say two as this is what the nurse reckons will be the case. This doesn’t leave a lot of room for bad quality eggs. So I’m relying on those two eggs both being good quality and then both being fertilised by Elton’s little swimmers to give me the highest chance. This also completely removes the possibility of freezing any embryos. Today was the day that I realised that this is our only chance.

Gwen told me I should be leaving with a big smile on my face which I tried very hard to do. Perhaps I haven’t been paying attention along the way or perhaps people just haven’t been that honest with me. Maybe I just haven’t been asking the right questions. I don’t feel eggstatic (I know, that was bad, but I need to keep my humour up) but to say I’m feeling flat is an understatement. Desperately searching for positive thoughts at the moment. Anyone know any good yolks?

Hormones, I think…

Well I am now on day 4 of Menopur injections although I haven’t actually done my stabbing duty for today as it doesn’t get done until 10pm. I mentioned in my updated previous post that these injections are a bitch. They are a bitch to sort out and they are a bitch going in. After the first night of doing them and the stress that caused I decided I needed a nice comfortable, quiet place to get on with them. I have now moved my lovely POANG chair up to the bedroom and I have everything set on on a tray, ready for the day ahead. So, in the morning at 7am it’s Buserelin into the tummy and in the evening at 10pm it’s Menopur into the leg. I’m starting to feel a little like a teabag…

So it was Monday night I started the Menopur, after a stressful afternoon wondering if the hospital were going to ring me to say ‘STOP, you’re E2 is still too high’ (which they didn’t) and then umming and ahhing about what time was the most sensible to do them. Tuesdayย morning I managed a small run with a friend and Baileydog. One friend had mentioned to me that I shouldn’t run but I checked with the hospital and they said it was fine. ‘Normal life’ was what I was told and running is normal life for me. Anyway, managed a run and then got to work to find out I was bleeding. Had a little panic as I had already had a bleed just over a week earlier. I finally managed to get through to the hospital and was told not to worry. Panic over.

Anyway, this post is meant to be about hormones. I think my hormones are starting to do their thing. I have the headaches back. I’m hungry all the time. I have incredible bouts of all out exhaustion where I can hardly stay awake and last night I started night sweats. Oh what a joy that is. For anyone that hasn’t experienced night sweats it’s like waking up and feeling that you have just been in a bath with your pyjamas on (if you sleep in pyjamas that is) and that someone has either soaked the pillow or you have had a real dribbling issue while you’ve been asleep. The problem is when you wake up you are then super cold because you have been sweating, probably tossed the covers off and then got really chilly (after all it’s winter and the heating goes off at 9:30pm). It’s then a struggle to get warm again so you can drift back off to sleep only for the same thing to happen an hour later.

When my alarm did go off at 6:30 this morning, I was so drained that I walked into the bathroom and managed to drop my pint glass of squash straight onto the tiled floor. What a great way to kickstart the day.

This week probably hasn’t been the best week at work for my hormones to be getting the better of me. We have 45 year 5 kiddies in from Salford, many of whom are quite needy in one way or another. My patience has been running thin. In fact, on Tuesday, had it not been for the support of the trainee we have with us at the moment, I may well have eaten a small child. Thankfully it’s Friday tomorrow and they go home. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job, just not so much this week ๐Ÿ˜‰

Next week I have a week off for bloods/scans on Monday, Wednesday and Friday so it’s a week with the folks being pampered and getting lots of rest. I am really looking forward to it. What I’m not looking forward to is my body changing shape due to increased egg production (hopefully). I’ve worked hard over the last year to get into the jeans I’m currently wearing. Think it might be a slouchies week next week ๐Ÿ˜ฎ

Well, let’s hope I finally manage to master the Menopur injections as this weekend in the evenings I am volunteering at the Llanberis Mountain and Adventure Film Festival and I am going to need to do them somewhere other than home. Let’s hope there’s somewhere less seedy than a public toilet…

Have a good one everyone. Especially those of you heading for egg collection next week x

 

All systems go

So today it was back to the Royal Shrewsbury for more blood tests and another internal scan to see whether my Estradiol levels had come down and to check out my ovaries. The scan is a funny affair. Fellow blogger Pyjamas and Crumpets  puts it well when she talks about the hilarity of a screen to get undressed behind and a modesty sheet – kind of pointless when the nurse is about to stick a wand with a condom on between your legs!! ๐Ÿ˜€

The blood test went as blood tests do – ‘sharp scratch dear’, needle in, blood taken, cotton wool taped to arm, ‘leave that for half an hour and no lifting’ and off you go. The scan seems to be different every time. No small talk this time round, just me and the nurse (the husband stayed home for this one – he feels like a spare part most of the time anyway and I can’t really blame him) and she turned the screen towards me so I could see too and talked through everything she was doing. Fascinating really as it just looked like liquid moving around on the screen to me. I certainly couldn’t make out anything different although she pointed out my uterus and my ovaries, when she eventually found them. I just nodded (probably with a bit of a vacant look on my face). The right one was playing a naughty game of hide and seek and was eventually found tucked away behind my uterus. Tut tut ovary.

Then it was in to speak to the nurse. I was privileged today as I got to speak to the boss. Lovely lady but she did make me feel like I was being a bit of a stress head (which I probably am). ‘Why were my Estradiol levels high?’ was the question I wanted answering. ‘There could be a number of different reasons, don’t worry about it’ was the response I got. Hmmm. ‘I don’t have enough Buserelin to keep up my injections’ I panicked. ‘Don’t worry about it, I’ve done you a prescription. Just pop down to the pharmacy on your way out and collect it.’ Oh, ok. ‘So should I start my Menopur injections this evening or tomorrow?’ This question actually required her to go and get advice from the consultant. This evening apparently. That is unless they ring to tell me not to which means my Estradiol levels are still too high. They won’t know until the blood test results are in and they will only ring if I am NOT to start injecting Menopur. It’s 6pm. Does that mean I start injecting this evening? I guess it does. All systems go then.

I then asked a load of questions specifically about the injections and told them I didn’t have enough needles. I now have enough needles. I think I know everything I need to know now. The only thing I don’t know is exactly when is the best time to do them? I have to do them in the evening so they don’t get mixed up with my Buserelin injections which are done in the morning. So when? I was thinking I’d do them at 7pm each evening as I do my morning ones at 7am but then what if I have something on in the evening. Maybe I should do them at 10pm before I go to bed? Oh I can’t decide. I’d better make my mind up as it’s getting later by the minute. Aaarrrggghhh!

I don’t know why I feel so stressed out about this. I feel fine about it until I have a hospital day. I think maybe it’s the hospital that’s stressing me out. I see all the other couples in there. There’s tension and anticipation in the air. Everyone is embarking on the unknown. Will we, won’t we? Is this our time? Is this your time? Which statistic will we be? It creates stress. I’m sure tomorrow I’ll be fine again.

The other thing that’s getting me down slightly is my loss of motivation. I’m an outdoor instructor. I’m an active person. I usually run a few times a week, get on my bike when the weather is playing ball and swim when I can. I haven’t done anything for over a week now. I just can’t get myself out the door. Elton and I have decided to go swimming this evening. I know it will help, I’m just struggling to actually go. I think having someone else will help. I need to get my running partner on board so she can kick my butt into touch. Exercise is good for the psyche and helps reduce stress. It also gives me something else to focus on.

I’ve decided. 1opm. Right, better get to the pool!!

Update Tuesday 28 February: 

Those Menopur injections are horrible. A real faff to sort out – I’m on two injections of three powders and one ampule per injection which means I have to draw up an ampule, inject it into the vial with the powder, then draw that up, insert into powder number two and repeat. All this without getting any air bubbles in the syringe and maintaining 1ml of liquid (I had to dip into a second ampule to do this). Injecting 1ml is quite uncomfortable, especially in the stomach so after the repeated faff of getting the second injection ready, that went into my leg. Still uncomfortable but not quite as much. Soooo looking forward to 10pm. Not.

The M Word

I did say that I had wanted to cover the subject of miscarriage in this blog so here goes. It’s one of those subjects that people don’t really like to talk about. It’s hard because it involves grief, very personal grief, yet it is incredibly common. In fact it is believed that around one in six known pregnancies result in miscarriage and many more occur prior to a pregnancy test even being taken. These statistics are astonishing! And in my mind it’s even more astonishing that it’s just considered ‘normal’.

We (women) are encouraged to keep pregnancy a secret until the end of the first trimester (first 12 weeks) because miscarriage is most likely during this time. So at a time when you are excited, scared, nervous, celebratory, overcome with joy, terrified – all of the above – and your hormones are all over the place due to the ongoing changes in your body, you are to remain quiet. Maybe tell a few close friends and family but otherwise zip it. And then, if the unspeakable happens and your body rejects your pregnancy, again, you have to keep quiet. After all, you can’t really go announcing that you have had a miscarriage if you haven’t told anyone you are pregnant…! It’s back to work, back to life, back to whatever it is that you need to do. No time to grieve properly, no time to heal your body. Why??

I had a miscarriage on Monday 6th October 2014. There will be many people I know reading this who had no idea I was ever pregnant although I did tell quite a few people. I felt I needed to tell work as I do a physical job and I also told quite a few friends as we were away for a reunion weekend at Centre Parcs and I obviously wasn’t drinking. Still, there are many people who never knew.

We’d been trying for a baby since Spring 2013. After not having any joy all the usual tests were done. I was aware that at my age (I was 39 at the time) I might be pre-menopausal although I wasn’t having any symptoms. After a series of blood tests the doctor told me that I wasn’t ovulating. I had thought that this wouldn’t bother me. In my mind I just wanted to know whether I could have children or not. If I couldn’t then we’d make other plans for our life. Unfortunately it devastated me. Not the reaction I’d expected.

After a couple of weeks I decided to go and see a different doctor. She agreed to run the tests again and this time I was ovulating. I think because my periods were (are) so irregular, it was impossible to predict the correct time period to check my hormone levels. Anyway, we were back on. The doctor prescribed me Clomid and I was told to use ovulation tests to ensure that we were ‘at it’ on the right days. My first month using Clomid I didn’t ovulate according to the tests. But then I didn’t get my period. I knew I was pregnant. I was getting tired in the afternoon. I kept getting dizzy spells. I was needing to pee more than ever. One Sunday, Elton and I went for a run in Newborough Forest – my usual 10km circuit – and I just couldn’t manage it. I kept getting dizzy and having to walk. I knew.

On Wednesday 3rd September 2014 I took a pregnancy test. I was working away at the time. Positive test. I didn’t know what to do with myself! I rang Elton. So excited ๐Ÿ™‚ I rang my mum. Overjoyed ๐Ÿ™‚ In the morning I told my two friends at work. By Sunday I was starting to get some sort of morning sickness. I got it in the afternoon. It really floored me. It was a confusing mixture of nausea and acute tiredness combined with some sort of allergic reaction. I would be dry retching one minute and then start sneezing and then it would turn into burping or yawning. I also got REALLY itchy palms. Weird I know ๐Ÿ˜ฎ

My boobs were sore, I couldn’t stop peeing during the night, I was over the moon! I wanted to feel it. Every inch of it. I downloaded an app on my phone so that I could see each day what was happening to my baby. I went onto forums to talk to other new mothers to be. It was the most exciting time.

First midwife appointment was Wednesday 17th September. It was a form filling day. That was the first day I felt no symptoms. In fact I didn’t feel pregnant at all. Over the next few days the nausea/tiredness/allergy came and went in differing degrees.

On Monday 22nd I went for a bike ride. I was really sensible and chose a route that was predominantly on the cycle track but then managed to cycle into the back of a car in Conwy. It wasn’t a bad crash, just a bump, but I went to hospital anyway just in case. They booked me in for a scan the following day.

On the Tuesday when I went in the hospital did a pregnancy test. I was convinced it was going to come back negative and that it had all been in my head. Of course it wasn’t. I had an internal scan as it was still very early on in the pregnancy. I was told they could see my little bean but it was too early for a heartbeat yet. Apparently my baby was between 5 and 6 weeks and around 7mm long. Amazing! I was booked in for a follow up appointment in two weeks’ time.

A couple of days later I went to the doctor to get a prescription for some pregnancy safe antihistamines. When I told her about the scan she said that she was worried as the hospital saying my baby was 5-6 weeks didn’t match with my dates and meant that the baby wouldn’t be developing properly. Great. This wasn’t helped by the fact that I had been suffering no symptoms for around a week.

Second appointment with the midwife on Tuesday 30th. She told me that potentially my baby had stopped growing at 5/6 weeks and I just hadn’t miscarried yet. She held off on booking me a follow-up appointment. I was devastated. I started spotting on Wednesday 1st October.

The day it all happened was horrendous. I’d had a bad night’s sleep the night before and felt like crap. I started bleeding in the afternoon and by the evening this had turned into really bad cramps and clotting. I tried to go to bed around 9pm but my cramps got worse and worse. I started having diarrhoea, felt really nauseous and was in immense pain. By 1:30am I had almost passed out. Elton called an ambulance. Before they arrived I think I passed the embryo while on the toilet. I wasn’t really with it to be honest. The paramedics gave me some pain relief and then took me to Ysbyty Gwynedd. I was transferred from A&E to EPU where I delivered the sac with the midwife. The following day I had to go in for a scan to ensure everything was gone. Just what I needed. To be sat in the waiting room with a load of pregnant women.

That was it. All over. The dream gone. No baby. I had to tell work as there was no way I could go in for a couple of days. I had to tell my friends, well the ones who knew. The hardest part of all was not being able to talk about it openly. How do you broach the subject? ‘Hi, how are you? Did you have a good week at work? Oh, by the way, I was pregnant but I’m not any more, I had a miscarriage on Monday’. It just doesn’t happen like that. I went to the doctor. They were pretty much like ‘oh well, it is pretty common you know, especially in women your age. At least you know you can get pregnant’. Helpful. Not. This article from the Observer from 2010 talks a bit more about this.

So what do you do? You move on. You have to. As I’ve said in a previous post, I’m a pragmatic person. I wouldn’t let this take over my life. We’d keep trying. But it ate away at me. Suddenly everyone was getting pregnant, people at work, people in the village, friends. I wanted to be happy for them but inside I was hating them. Every person I’d see walking around with a pram I’d judge. They don’t deserve a baby, they’re smoking. They don’t deserve a baby, they’re too young. They don’t deserve a baby, they already have four children. Why? Why? Why? I needed closure.

My baby had been due on 9th May 2015. We planted an apple tree. She’s a beautiful Bardsey Island apple tree. She gives us the most beautiful blossom in the spring and delicious apples in the autumn. She’s slowly growing, arms stretching up towards the sunlight. Every time I look at her I think of my baby.

I know there are women out there who have had numerous miscarriages and miscarriages way later in their pregnancies but a miscarriage is what it is. It is horrendous, it is sad, it is incredibly personal. But talking about it helps. My advice to anyone going through it would be don’t bottle it up. It can eat away at you.

I’m sorry, I hadn’t originally intended this blog to be a diary log of the events leading up to my miscarriage but it has been incredibly cathartic. If you have read all the way to the end, thank you for listening. This has been better closure for me than the tree, almost ๐Ÿ˜‰

So now let’s crack on with the IVF! ๐Ÿ™‚