The long and the short of it.

The short: I’m pregnant. I’m spotting. I’m anxious.

The long: Well, obviously a lot has happened since my last post. My Sister started jabbing herself in the stomach for me while I had the easy route and swallowed some pills. She was a darling throughout the whole process. She admitted to being a little scared the first time she gave herself an injection but soon was sticking the needle into her stomach like a trooper. It all happened so fast. I felt quite disconnected from what was going on for most of the process prior to the Egg Collection. I was concerned about my Sister, but found it hard to be excited about the prospect of a pregnancy. That changed on Egg Collection Day.

I was extremely lucky to have been able to be in the room when they siphoned off her eggs. I met my sister at the hospital, sat with her as she froze in an over-sized hospital gown and fluffy dressing gown. I walked beside her down the grey hospital corridors on the way to the theatre and squeezed her shoulder as they drove the catheter into her fragile arm, administering the sedative. I watched with her as the image of her ovaries and follicles appeared on the overhead screen, followed by the thin instrument that sucked the follicles dry. I listened as they called out the number of eggs retrieved. It was a deeply personal experience. My Sister looked so tiny and so brave. She was and is so unbelievably generous. This experience helped me connect to the eggs that were given so freely to me.

And so the waiting began. From 10 eggs retrieved, 8 were fertilized, 6 made it to day 3 and 1 made it to day 5. Blastocyst day. Egg Transfer Day. There were none left to freeze.

The Egg Transfer was a breeze. The doctor and I discussed my Sister’s thesis topic throughout the proceedure. I believe the saying is…”as you do.”

Then we waited again. During the first week after the transfer I was hopeful. I allowed myself moments of excitement. Seconds of joy. Shortly before the two week blood test though, all hope evaporated and I was absolutely sure that it had not worked. I was convinced that my body had rejected this tiny group of cells. I prepared my DH for a negative result. I had no symptoms, other than exhaustion which I figured was probably emotional. None-the-less I was keen to get same day results and so I drove an hour and 15mins to the clinic so I could be assured that I did not spend a night in agony.

After the blood test, I had just finished driving along the 90km zone when the nurse called with the result. (Yes, I had pulled over as soon as the mobile rang – I have miraculously managed to retain some common sense throughout this ordeal). The nurse sounded happy. I began to cry when she announced the result. She said “Congratulations”. I never thought to hear that word applied to my situation. We chatted for a short while and she said that she’d let me go so I could make some phone calls. There were only two to make. One to my husband and one to my sister. We have not told anyone else. No, not even my Mum.

A couple of days ago I had a second blood test and my hormone levels were rising adequately enough. I had some slight spotting and my progesterone levels were only just above what they like to see, so we’ve increased the dosage for good measure. I’m adjusting my mind to incorporate the idea that I’m pregnant. I have found it difficult to accept the delight and positivity in the responses from the nurses. These are very early days and I still feel as though things could go wrong. I have decided not to beat myself up about this though. I think, after 9 years of failed attempts, I can forgive myself a small amount of anxiety.

There is still a long way to go and today the spotting has increased a bit. It increased after I’d done some exercise. I had been exercising aerobically almost every day prior to the egg transfer and the doctor said that I could continue. But I think I might bring it down a level, or maybe even have a rest until the next blood test. This is too precious to make a mistake with. And if it doesn’t work out, I don’t want to have any doubts about how hard I tried to care for this little embryo and its development.

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One Response to “The long and the short of it.”

  1. jodie38 Says:

    Oh my…….GOD!!!!

    OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG….. I just…..

    Dude! Way to go!! I’m so, so happy for you…..

    If it helps, I bled/spotted very easily during the first trimester. Unless it’s not stopping, don’t worry. An OB friend told me that IVF’ers always bleed more, they just do. You have very little control over anything at this point. Not a huge change, huh? 🙂 I was also told not to do anything I couldn’t live with. Listen to yourself, above anyone else. That was some good advice, for me at least.

    Take deep breaths, take care of yourself, don’t hesitate to slow down and put your feet up.

    And experience/appreciate every single second. Like I needed to say that – you already know.

    And, oh my God. Try not to worry too much. Have faith, hug your husband and sister. They’re both right there for you. What a wonderful story to tell one day!!

    Please post when/what you can – I’m so, so pulling for you!

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