Monthly Archives: March 2015

Surprise! (written 5th March 2015)

It is officially the longest morning of my life. I’m slightly nauseous as I wake but can’t decide if it’s from lack of sleep, anxiety about today, or morning sickness. I’m awake early which doesn’t help, but even the last hour from 9:15am until we leave for the clinic seems to take a lifetime. I can’t find enough to keep me occupied and spend a good deal of time swinging on one of the barstools in the kitchen telepathically sending messages to the clock to tick faster.

Eventually it’s time to leave. My hubby’s excited but I’m more nervous than I’ve ever been and on the verge of tears. We only live 5 minutes’ drive away from our clinic so before long we’re pulling into the carpark and heading up in the lift. It’s only a short wait before our doctor comes out to get us and with shaking legs I follow him into his office. He knows I’m nervous so doesn’t delay, “scan first, then we’ll talk” he says.

It’s still early days so it’s an internal ultrasound this time rather than the gel on the tummy number. One final date with dildocam (I hope). I lie there with my pants off waiting for the machine to start up and praying to the universe for a good result. Finally it’s time. The ultrasound wand goes in and my doctor exclaims “Well straight away I can tell you that there are two sacs.” I gulp, please let there be a heartbeat in at least one of them.

He has a closer look. “Yes, there’s the first heartbeat” he says, and I look at my tiny Bumble’s heart flickering away like a little moth on the screen. I’m trying hard not to cry. My baby is alive. It’s amazing, exciting, fear-inducing and surreal all at the same time. “Now let’s see if we can find the other one. It seems ‘the other one’ is a little trickier with the sac tucked right up in the uterus where it’s hard for the ultrasound wand to reach. A moment later he’s found it though and there’s little Bee’s heart fluttering away as well. We’re having twins.

My husband is supposed to be filming this but he’s so caught up in the moment that I have to frantically gesture to him to capture at least some of it on his phone. Our doctor takes a few screen shots, including one with both our babies in the frame, and then it’s done. Hubs and the doctor leave and I get dressed with shaking hands then head out to chat.

We get the usual warnings that it’s still early days, that things are riskier with twins, about vanishing twin syndrome. However our doctor does add that with such a young donor (21), and the good condition the embryos and sacs appear to be in, that our chances of carrying them right the way through to somewhere near a twins full-term (38 weeks) is good. Our chances of miscarriage have now theoretically dropped to 5-10% per embryo. My fingers are crossed.

I’m still in total shock. Our doctor is asking me questions about the medication I’m on and how many embryos we have left in the States and I’m struggling to answer. I feel as though I’m moving in slow motion. We collect information booklets from the nurse and then we’re off home to let the news sink in and start sharing the news with our family and close friends.

My mum squeals then bursts into tears, my hubby’s mum has more of a philosophical approach to it, my siblings are somewhat disbelieving and excited. I tell the friends that ask, sending them just two baby face emoticons in a text. Everyone is stoked and so are we, although we’re both still in daze of amazement. We have heartbeats. Plural.


Another long wait (written 4th March 2015)

The longest wait is nearly over, it’s scan day tomorrow, a day I thought would never arrive. I haven’t blogged much as 1) I’ve not been sleeping properly and have been really tired, and 2) I can’t concentrate for very long, so stringing more than a few sentences together has been really challenging.

My clinic here in NZ have been really supportive, not only putting up with my panicked email (spotting) but also scheduling me in for weekly blood tests to reassure me that my HCG is steadily climbing. At our first (sneaky) beta my HCG comes in at 369…our favourite nurse bets me that we’re having twins (eek). By our official test date on Monday the 16th that number has jumped to 1733. We’re sitting in the 75th percentile, things are looking good.

Of course, having the mind of an infertile, I’m analysing every little twinge my body throws my way. Nervous that this could all go wrong, excited that it could all go right. In the week between the 1733 result and our next beta, I don’t notice too much out of the ordinary. I’m still cramping a bit, which I’ve done pretty much since transfer. They feel pretty much like period pains although there are some slightly lighter pangs, and almost a burn-like feeling sometimes as well. The only other thing of note this week is that my nipples are all tingly. Not really sore, they’re more itchy, like tiny ripples of the most minor electric shock you could imagine. I’m feeling tired too but I put that down to the lack of sleep as I wake up nearly every night worrying.

Finally the 23rd arrives and it’s time for our third blood test. I’m super nervous again but luckily don’t have to wait as long this time (I think our favourite nurse is being nice again and bumping us up the call schedule). The result comes in around lunchtime and again it’s looking good at 22279. I’ve printed a graph off the internet and plot my last three results along it. It follows the curve perfectly, still sitting in the 75th percentile. Phew. Only a week and a half til scan, I can do this!

Over the next week my symptoms come and go, making me feel either somewhat hopeful or plunging me into a fit of panic that everything’s over. I’m still cramping, still tired and not sleeping, my boobs still tingle but I also get a bit more general breast pain which I hope means they’re being to grow (I’m an A cup at best, say no more). I have a couple of days where I have bouts of nausea and dizziness but again these are easily written off to lack of sleep as I often feel this way when I’m not sleeping. It’s not until the end of the week that I begin to feel something might actually be happening inside me. By Thursday/Friday I’m starting to have food aversions and have almost totally lost my appetite. I have to basically force-feed myself as I know I need to eat.

For someone who eats pretty much anything and loves a good meal, it’s so weird to suddenly feel ill at the thought/sight/smell of food I would normally crave. It starts with water. I’m not a huge water drinker but I have the odd glass throughout the day and absolutely love green tea or a hot water with lemon. Overnight water becomes abhorrent. I can’t stand the sight of it, and the thought of drinking it in any form (hot, cold, tea, even juice!) disgusts me! I worry as to what I am going to drink to stay hydrated, until my husband suggests chocolate milk. I used to love chocolate milk as a child but as an adult rarely drink it, and hardly ever manage a full glass/bottle when I do indulge. Until now. It is now the best thing in the world and I consume 2 litres of chocolate milk (standard milk & Nesquik) over the following two days.

Next come veges. I am a vege nut and am constantly pestering my husband to include more vegetables in our dinners. Roast vege salad you say? Mmmmmm, yes please…..that is until now. It starts with just a few, no eggplant, no kumara (sweet potato) then wham! It’s nearly all veges I can’t stand. The smell of them cooking, bleurgh. I can’t even handle looking at them on the counter as I eat my breakfast and have to turn away. It’s so strange (even reading the word ‘veges’ as I read over this makes me want to puke).

Various other foods, in fact most other foods lose their appeal and I find myself living off chocolate milk and bread over the weekend. If anything I feel like sweet food which, although would have summed me up perfectly as a child, is almost the opposite of what I am normally like as an adult, preferring savoury food to anything sweet.

The next thing to increase is the nausea. It comes in waves, generally hitting worst when I first wake up and easing a little after I have breakfast. By Monday morning I have to get my husband to make me toast in bed before I get up as I feel so queasy. It comes and goes throughout the day, easing more if I nibble frequently and less if I stick to the main meals only. I feel constantly full despite not eating a huge amount and start to keep a bread roll or hot cross bun next to the bed at night to allow me to graze throughout the wee small hours. I find this helps a lot with the early-morning nausea. I haven’t vomited (yet) but have felt quite close to it at times.

All these symptoms are helping to keep the anxiety at bay a bit but nonetheless I have another beta on the Monday morning (2nd March). I miss the call from the clinic by a measly one ring and wait another hour and a half for them to call back. The tone in the nurse voice has me worried and it feels like a long wait (in reality it’s about 20 seconds) before telling me it’s all ok. I’m up to 81755, still sitting in the perfect curve on my graph.

Another couple of days of nausea and struggling to find things to eat and drink, and that brings us to now. Scan day tomorrow. In the last two weeks I’ve lost half a centimetre around my waist, my belly has remained the same size, and I’ve gained 2cm in the bust (woohoo!). In the five and a half weeks since we left for San Diego I’ve lost 4kgs (I suspect mostly muscle mass from giving up weights at the gym) but have gained back about half a kilo over the last few days. I’m absolutely terrified that it will all come to an end tomorrow, unbelievably nervous that we won’t see anything on the scan. I’m trying not to think about that too much though, the signs are looking good, I just hope they’re not largely in my head.

Telling the others (written 20th February 2015)

Having this blog, and everyone knowing we’ve been to San Diego and why, means we don’t have the luxury of the 12 week grace period most fertile couples have, so we have to devise fairly quickly a plan on who we’re going to tell and how. We want to tell people in person which also adds to the difficulty of the situation but we manage to pull together a bit of a plan and set about getting the various bits and pieces we need for it.

We’ve told Mum on Friday night, as mentioned in an earlier post. Saturday morning we have brunch with two of our good friends who have recently gone through IVF themselves. I’m nervous as anything as we wander towards the café, unsure how to hold it in and fit it naturally into the conversation. I don’t last long. After a brief chat about how we’re doing, I’m asked how I’m sleeping. “Not so well this week,” I reply “But quite good last night because we got a positive result yesterday.” Cue tears and hugs and congratulations. It was hard not to get too emotional as we’ve wanted this moment for so long!

On to Sunday. As soon as we got our positive result on the Friday afternoon I started trying to tee up a catch-up with some of my close friends. These four girls have been amazingly supportive over the last few years, making sure we’re ok, checking up on us, one was even our donor in our last cycle, I need to tell them soon as I can. I send out a group text “Argh! This wait is absolutely killing me. I need some distraction. Anyone free for a cuppa over the weekend or dinner early next week or anything? Save me!” Trying to play it cool. And a date is locked in for Sunday afternoon.

I’d bought a little gemstone inscribed with an inspirational word for each of them and my plan had been to give the stones to them as a thank-you for supporting us, then say “and I thought that every time you look at them from now on you can remember the moment I told you I was pregnant” (remember they’ve been waiting just as long as we have for this). Unfortunately it all turns a bit to shit and only half of them can make it but I go ahead with the plan regardless. I pick CI up from home and we head to a nearby café next to the beach. I manage to brush off any talk of our treatment by saying we have a blood test on Monday – it’s the truth, we do have one then, it’s just not our first one!

We arrive at the café but my other friend, D, is running late. We buy drinks and sit outside to wait for her, chit-chatting away about this and that. D arrives about 15 minutes later and we wander along the beach (talking about cars of all things!) before settling on a grassy bank overlooking the water. My heart is racing as I somewhat nonchalantly exclaim “Oh! Before I forget, I’ve got something for you two.” And the plan is kicked into action. I bust out my line and wait….”Oh good” they say, and a few seconds tick by, then “Wait! What?!? Are you???” Teeheehee. More tears and congratulations. I’m absolutely shaking. It’s so surreal finally being about to say this. Needless to say the rest of our conversation centres around babies.

An hour or so later I drop them both home and call my other friend, CB, saying I’m in her area and is she free for a cuppa. Luckily she is as CB is one of those exceptional friends who always goes above and beyond for you, and I can’t have the other girls knowing but not her. I pop in and chat while making tea, all the while wondering how I’m going to reveal my news amongst our conversation. She asks how I’m doing, and is my mind telling me anything, to which I reply that it doesn’t need to tell me anything because I’m officially pregnant. She has the same reaction as the other two, bewildered as the news sinks in, then it hits and again the conversation turns to babies and pregnancy. I’m enjoying this, for once I don’t feel like an outsider playing house in the baby arena.

The Sunday announcements continue as I nip home to collect my hubby then head back to my Mum’s to tell my little sister and Step-Dad. For my three siblings (and their partners/family) we’ve bought picture books and written a note from Bumble in each – something along the lines of “Dear Aunty/Uncle, Looking forward to you reading this to me. See you in nine months! Love Bumble”. Although they’re all slightly different.

For my younger sister we’ve purchased a ‘touch-and-feel’ Hairy Maclary hardback. She smiles as she reads the inscription, much happier than I thought she’d be at the news and gives us both big hugs. My Step-Dad also finds out at this time as he’d been away at a conference when we’d told Mum. Mum grabs the box we gave her on Friday and shows him (I can’t believe she’d managed to keep it quiet so long!). He’s going to be a Grandad and I think he’s stoked.

Onward to a family dinner at my Dad’s house. This really is the Sunday of announcements! My Dad’s not overly keen on young kids so for these two we buy a nice bottle of wine that should last a while and add the note “To Nana and Grandad, We know young kids can be a little annoying sometimes but hopefully you can enjoy drinking this with me in 18 years or so. See you in nine months. Lots of love, Bumble.” This we give to them before my brother and his partner arrive at the dinner.

For my brother and his partner we’ve bought ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ and give it to them just as we sit down at the dining table. They’re expecting news on the Monday as they know that’s when our test is, so this takes them by surprise as I reveal we did some home pregnancy tests then a sneaky Friday blood test. They both leap out of their seats in excitement and give us hugs, and we sit down to a lovely dinner.

Monday morning. It’s time to tell the two girls I work with. Like many of my friends, they’ve been with me through my many ups and downs. In fact, CH is one of the few people who has been there from the beginning. I remember her whisking an upset me off to a local café for a hot drink upon finding out that our second month trying (I know, four years later that’s laughable now!) wasn’t successful. I take a snapchat of the lab sign as I leave my morning blood test (2nd beta) and send it to them with the caption “Let the seven hour wait begin” to throw them off the scent, then head excitedly into work.

CH gets in about half an hour later and she’s not having a good day. We chat for a bit then I say “Oh! I’ve got something for you!” and grab her pressie out of my bag. “This is just to say thank you for always being there for me” I say, and hand it over to her. She slowly opens it. Inside I’ve wrapped a Pandora charm (a baby carriage) for her charm bracelet, and have written on a piece of origami paper in big black letters ‘I’m pregnant!’

She doesn’t even look at the charm, it’s in a wee Pandora bag, as upon reading the note throws everything onto her desk, yells “You’re fuckin shitting me!” at the top of her lungs, then bursts into tears as she leaps up to hug me. I’m half laughing, welling with tears, hugging her back as two of our HR team (who also know what we’ve been going through and read the blog) come running round to see what’s going on. They look at me raised eyebrows, “are you?”, I nod, and there are more hugs. I‘m nervous about telling so many people, feeling like I’m going to jinx it but it feels nice to be able to say this after four long years.

The other girl I work closely with is offsite at a meeting so I send her a sneaky snapchat of our digital pregnancy test that reads “pregnant”. Totally inappropriate timing as I know she’s still in the meeting, but I get a reply back almost immediately. “Yaaaaaaay!”

Next come my in-laws who have unfortunately been away on holiday so we’re unable to see them in person until the Monday night after our second blood test. They walk in the door knowing we have a result so there’re no surprises there (they figure we would’ve cancelled dinner had the result been negative). Nevertheless, we’ve bought them a book (The Very Hungry Caterpillar), included a note from Bumble in it, and popped it in a box with a photo of our positive digital pregnancy test. Despite already having a clue of the news we’re telling they’re super excited about the result.

Tuesday night I tell my mum’s best friend, primarily to give her someone to talk to about it (she cried, so cute) and while I’m there my other friend K (one of the girls I’d wanted to tell on Sunday) texts asking how things are going and when test day is.   So I give her a call and let her know the news too. She screams excitedly for a good minute or so, hehehe, we chat and hangup, and then I get a text through “Oh my goooooooooddddddddddddd!” I think she might be in shock. Hahaha. I love my friends.

I have to wait til Wednesday for my older sister to find out (the last out of my siblings) as unfortunately she lives five hours drive away. I obviously can’t tell her face-to-face so decide to make it total surprise and wrap up her picture book (In the Night Kitchen) and courier it down to her as soon as we get our blood results Monday (just in case it had all gone wrong by that stage). It takes a couple of days to arrive – useless NZ Couriers, so much for next day delivery! – and I get a call from her excited to be an Aunty to our Bumble/s.

At the same time I courier the book, I post a photo to my Aunty, Uncle, cousin and his girlfriend. I write nothing at all on or with the photo, merely address the envelope to them and put my sender address on the back. It’s a pic of our digital pregnancy test. It takes two days to arrive (same as the courier!) and we get a text Wednesday afternoon “OMG I can’t stop crying. So happy for you guys!!!!”

Over the next couple of days I fill in a few more of my friends at work and the leadership team (who I also work closely with) and everyone is absolutely stoked for us. It’s a bit scary telling so many people so early on but they all know what we’ve been through and half of them are asking, so it’s not like we can keep it from anyone. The good thing is I don’t feel weird about telling any of these people of a miscarriage or anything, should we be unlucky enough for that to happen for us, so that makes me feel a little more comfortable with people knowing. Fingers crossed we won’t have to tell them anything of the sort!

When saying so little says so much (written 17th February 2015)

The disappointing news comes Thursday. I hear back from San Diego and they’re not keen on moving my blood test forward, preferring instead to leave it as the 16th to try and avoid a false negative, “to err on the side of caution” as they put it. Luckily it doesn’t last long as when I message my clinic here to tell them we need to leave the test date as Monday, they come back with “oh don’t be silly, just come and do a sneaky one for us on Friday and we won’t tell San Diego” WOOHOO!

I’m anxious as I wake on Friday, rushing to do another pregnancy test (I’ve already done 5 others) just to make sure Bumble and/or Bee are still there before I head for my bloods. It’s crazy I know but I’m just so scared everything is going to disappear. It’s still positive, phew. Breakfast, bloods and off to work. And the fretful wait begins.

I expect the call to come around 1pm as results calls in the past have always come around then, it doesn’t. I wait and wait, convinced that something’s gone wrong. I can almost hear our favourite nurse saying to us “I’m sorry darling, it’s not the result we were hoping for”, we’ve certainly heard that often enough, we know the drill. Still no phone call. By 3pm I’m really panicking and email the clinic asking if they’ve heard anything. I feel bad because I know how busy they are but I’m absolutely beside myself.

Five minutes later the call comes. I’m in the toilet, typical! I rush out (don’t worry, I was done) and try to think where I can go to take the call. “Can you talk?” our favourite nurse asks. “Hold on, I’ll just pop into a Quiet Room” as I duck into one of the tiny quiet rooms in the office….”You’ll hop into a quiet room and scream” says our nurse. “Will I?”, “Yes, you will. Are you ready? Are you sitting down?” “Yeeeeeees”, “Congratulations darling, you’re well and truly knocked up!” I can’t talk. “I’m going to cry” I manage to whisper. This is so surreal.

She runs through my numbers, which go in one ear and out the other. I’m trying not to cry too much as one of the girls who works with my husband is sitting just outside the room I’m in and there are windows – don’t want to give the game away at this stage! I’m absolutely amazed, stunned, thankful. The rest of the conversation is a bit of a blur, and I end up emailing her afterwards to make sure I’ve got everything I need to know.

Now to find my husband. He’s gone AWOL. I eventually get a message to him, ‘meet me in the basement carpark.’ He finally turns up and I tell him the news. We’re crying, shaking, both of us a little in disbelief. We sit stunned for a few minutes, trying to chat through what’s just happened, then I have to boot him out, if we’re going to tell Mum in the way we want to tonight I need to get to the shops!

I dash up the road to a shop where I saw a Buzzy Bee frame earlier in the week while hunting something else. I grab that. Then off to another part of town to buy the bumble bee booties I’d found online, and finally a Kodak shop to print a photo of our digital pregnancy test. I also grab some picture books for my siblings, but more on those later. That all took a little longer than expected but I manage to get back to work and get some work done before it’s time to head to Mum’s. A quick detour home to throw everything together (something I couldn’t have done in our open plan office) and we’re off to Mum’s place.

It’s my brother’s birthday and he’s at Mum’s for drinks before he goes elsewhere for dinner. We really don’t want to hijack his birthday so decide not to tell him and his partner until later in the weekend. It’s impossibly hard sitting there chatting for an hour or so, trying to pretend everything’s normal when we’re actually bursting with excitement, but we achieve our goal. My brother leaves for his dinner and we settle down into the comfy seats in the lounge.

I pass Mum a bag of stuff we’d bought her while we were in America and on top is a little black box containing my purchases from earlier in the day. Lucky for us she grabs this first as I’m not sure I could’ve waited too much longer. She takes off the lid and looks perplexed as she lifts the booties out of the box. She stared at them confused and jokes “am I supposed to give these back to you at some stage?” I smile and she delves back into the box pulling out the photo frame. “Is this…? Are you…?” she exclaims as she looks up at me. I raise my eyebrows, nod, and smile in affirmation. And all hell breaks loose…

It’s a better reaction that I could ever have imagined and I’ll forever kick myself that we didn’t film it. My Mum leaps off her chair, screams, hands over mouth, tears streaming down her face. Her feet start running on the spot before dashing to me for a big hug then continuing to traverse frantically around the room, all while her hand cover her squealing mouth in shock. This goes on for a good minute. It’s amazing. “Let’s celebrate!” both my Mum and hubby cry. “Champagne!” “Yeah great, champagne,” I say laughingly “I’ll have a water please”


Oh to have the innocence of the fertile mind! (written 11th February 2015)

It’s amazing how infertility affects you, or at least how it affects me. Even now when we should be the happiest we’ve ever been, there’s a massive shadow of doubt hanging over our heads. A feeling that this can’t be real or that it will all go horribly wrong.

While most newly pregnant mothers are celebrating, revelling in the happiness of a new conception, I’m flitting between small bursts of joy and a much larger storm of endless worry.

While other new parents-to-be have no trouble browsing the baby aisles and starting a shopping list, I feel like an imposter, some strange sicko perving on baby wear for some baby they will never have.

I feel that to shop, to shortlist, to even talk about our forthcoming baby will jinx the entire thing, that this is really just some cruel joke someone is playing on us and the brief moments of joy that we do have will be ripped away from us in the blink of an eye.

I want to give my mum a baby bumble bee outfit as a way to tell her we’re pregnant but I just can’t bring myself to buy one (at least not until after my blood test) as it feels as though that will spark the end of this magical thing we never thought would be. It must be an amazing feeling to take a pregnancy test as fact instead of a small moment of hope that flits away in an instant.

I feel guilty that at night when I come home from work I want to chat to my hubby about the nursery, the furniture, how we’ll tell people. I can’t bring myself to say “when our baby’s born” or even “our baby”, instead my sentences start “If this is real” or “If this is really happening.”

I feel the perfectly normal cramps of progesterone and pregnancy and am agonising over ectopic pregnancies and their symptoms instead of welcoming in what they truly mean.

I’m constantly nervous that this will go wrong.

I’m not going mad (written 11th February 2015)

Am I? Could yesterday have all been a dream? I still can’t believe that this could actually be real. Lucky for me we bought an extra pregnancy test yesterday so bright and early this morning (ok, not so bright and early at 7:20am – my boss said I could have a sleep in) I test a third time just to be sure. 3 minutes later those two lines appear again. This might actually be happening but I don’t think I’ll believe it until the clinic tells me it’s so….and even then I might not believe.

I thought the anxiety would recede a little with a positive result but it hasn’t, it’s just changed. Now, instead of being worried that we might get a negative result, I’m panicking that the positive result we have might disappear. Cue the pregnancy test madness. With three positive tests in 24 hours I email both the clinic in San Diego and our New Zealand clinic to beg to bring my OTD forward. It’s scheduled for Monday but I’m hoping for a pre-weekend test so I can not only put my mind at ease a little, but also start telling those close to me.

It’s a strange position we’re in. So many people that I know in real life read my blog, they know we’ve been away, and they know exactly why. This makes it hard when it comes to the pregnancy announcement, they’re all going to know that we are aware of the outcome long before the time any normal/fertile pregnancy would be announced. I’m not sure how I feel about this. There are of course some people I would tell straight away regardless, but there are others I would probably have waited to tell, especially as the gossip in this town spreads like wildfire. It’s almost like we won’t have the luxury of this being ours for those 8-12 weeks that others get. But I guess that’s the decision I made when I shared this blog.

So back the pregnancy tests. I hear back from our New Zealand clinic reasonably promptly. They’re excited, assuring me that it’s not likely to be a false positive (yes, I asked), and after a bit of backwards and forwardsing on what my dates are, my blood test is bought forward to Friday. WOOHOO! Now I just need to keep this little Bumble or Bee (or both) happy inside me. And I need to reassure myself that everything is ok.

I stock up on home pregnancy tests at the supermarket, one for tonight, and two for tomorrow (morning and night), which will bring us to the Friday morning time for my blood test. In the last 36 hours we’ve spent $80 on pregnancy tests, but don’t judge me too harshly, they’re expensive in New Zealand. The cheapest I could find was $7.99! So all up I’ve purchased only six tests. This may seem excessive to some but I’m comfortable with that, knowing that it’s easing some of the extra tension.

Now to just keep up this charade of pretending I know nothing. I think I did ok today. The stress of my “this pregnancy is going to disappear” paranoia is reasonably easy to morph into “I’m worried this isn’t going to work” fear for the sake of others. I did have a look around the baby section of a shop today though so that might have tipped off my colleague who was with me. Not long to go now…only two more sleeps.

Two week wait craziness (written 10th February 2015)

This two week wait is absolutely killing me. And I blame hope. On the two previous times we’ve made it to transfer we’ve been warned in advance that things weren’t looking so good, so we went into transfer and the two week wait totally prepared for things not to work.   This time however we’ve got a good chance, with decent quality (and multiple) embryos, and that’s sparked that bitch they call hope in me again. I feel like there’s so much riding on this that if it doesn’t work I don’t know what we’ll do. Well, I suppose I do, we’ll save up some money and head back to San Diego to give it another shot with some of our frosties.

So it’s Tuesday and my second day back at work. I thought being back at work might actually help with the two week wait as I’d have something to distract me, but in fact it’s made it worse. I don’t want to be there, I can’t concentrate, I can’t focus. Monday wasn’t so bad, everyone came over to chat and catch up on our trip, so the day was somewhat light-hearted, although I may not have got as much work done as I should have. The hours still dragged though and I was left thinking that this was going to be the longest week of my entire life.

And then Tuesday rolls round and things get worse (is that possible?!?). I’ve hardly slept, due in part to jet-lag and in a larger part to worrying, so I start the day at less-than-optimal. Hubby’s not feeling great either, we’re just both so stressed about this not working. He’s worrying about work also and has a mini-meltdown in the car on the way into the office, which isn’t helped by me losing the plot and getting angry at him. I feel bad about it but I’m barely holding myself together, I just don’t have the capacity to hold him together too. It’s ok, we make up over hot drinks in the café not long after we get to work, but we’re both obviously at our wits end already and it’s only 5 days after transfer….there’s still a week to go until our test day!

I struggle through the morning, it’s like each second takes a full hour to tick by. I’m so close to tears I can barely talk to anyone and even tell one of the girls I work with it’s better to pretend I’m not there today. I honestly think I’m going crazy. I don’t know how people do this! I don’t know how I can keep this up for another week! Luckily my colleagues and bosses are really understanding and are supportive in my wobbliest day so far.

By 11am I can’t take it any more and, after a whinge on Twitter followed by further encouragement to test from one of the girls there, I decide to do just that. It’s still early enough that I can write off a negative result as “too early” and if it’s positive then it will hopefully ease my anxiety a little. I’d been researching online last night and there have been plenty of people who have had a positive result at 5 days past 6 day transfer (5dp6dt) so it’s not out of the question.

I grab my bag and wander out of the office without talking to anyone. There’s a pharmacy just down the road so I walked quickly down there, praying that no one would see me and put two & two together. I was hoping the pharmacy would have early test kits, thinking that these would have a better response what with me being so early in my two week wait. They didn’t, but after agonising for a while over which test to choose I grabbed a Clear Blue and headed to the counter. I’m sure the salesperson thought I was hoping for a negative result, he gave me that kind of quiet sorrowful look that people sometimes give young mothers (not that I’m young but I do still get ID’d occasionally). I made sure to pay with my personal credit card so that if the result was negative I wouldn’t have to divulge my moment of weakness to my hubby….not that he’d mind but I guess I didn’t want him to feel down if the result wasn’t what we’re hoping for.

Back to the work loos and I’m fumbling the test as I try to unwrap it, ever so conscious of the other person in the cubicles. What must they be thinking! I’m nervous as I pee on the little white stick and nearly forget to start the timer on my phone to time the two minutes. I watch anxiously, praying for a quick positive result….it doesn’t come.

What does come is a very slow fading in of a very faint second line to form a +. It seems so light I don’t dare hope that it’s a positive result. I think it is but I’m not totally sure. I snap a quick photo of it, tuck it into my bag with all it’s packaging and head back to my desk (stopping in a quiet room on the way to snap another couple of pics).

When I get back to my desk there’s a message from my husband, asking if I want to go for a walk to clear my head and hopefully make us both feel better about the day. “Sure” I say (I know exactly what I can do to make him feel better!). We meet at the main stairwell and wander off to the park near to our work. It feels good to get some fresh air but my legs are shaking as we head down the small hill to the park. I’m still not believing this could even be remotely real.

We sit down on one of the benches just inside the park and chit-chat about this and that trying to brighten the day. I last about a minute before I pull a little black box out of my bag and tell my hubby I have a present for him which will hopefully make him feel a bit better. He has no clue what I’m about to drop on him.

Now this little black box comes with a story. Four years ago, in our first month of trying to conceive and sooooo sure it would happen just like that, I bought a little newborn baby onesie and wrapped it up in a box ready to give to my husband as I announced we were pregnant. Well, that little black box has sat in my cupboard at work for all of the last four years, surviving both a role change AND an office move, waiting waiting waiting for the chance to come out and surprise him, and today it got that chance.

He slowly unwrapped the box and pulled out the little suit. He turned to me with a confused look on his face. “I caved and tested,” I said “and it came up with a faint positive.” I wish so much that I could’ve captured the look on his face as his confusion turned to absolute delight before he grabbed my face and gave me possibly the most excited kiss he ever has (ok, maybe not really the most excited kiss ever, but it was pretty amazing. TMI?).

I pulled out the test to show him (knowing that it was past the 10 minute time limit, but given the test looked the same as just after I’d tested I figured it was ok). “There’s a definite line there” he comments, and we’re both buzzing. We sit and chat and exclaim a few minutes longer, try to capture some better photos of the test to prove it’s real, then head back to the office. Shit, I think, I now have to get through the rest of the day without telling anyone.

The anxiety eases a fair bit, I’m a little euphoric with the idea that for the first time ever I may have just got a BFP on a pregnancy test, but then, as the minutes creep by the unease builds again. What if I did the test wrong? What if that’s not actually a second line on the test? What if it’s a positive but it disappears over the next few days? I’m nervous again. I’m going to have to test tomorrow, and every day between now and my official test day (OTD).

I make it through the remainder of the day, actually managing to concentrate on some more menial tasks I have to do, and buy a couple more pregnancy tests (First Response brand this time) from the supermarket on our way home in order to test for the next two consecutive days. Hubs thinks I’m a little nuts as I ask him whether we shouldn’t grab one more and retest today just to make sure, and puts his foot down, “NO”. Well we’re barely inside the door to our house when he’s changed his mind…..admittedly I bought it up, but he agreed! We retest and this time there’s no mistaking it. There’s a very clear and well-defined second line. OMG, we’re pregnant.


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