Birth story continued 

If you read my last post then you know that my daughter didn’t have the easiest start and had to spend almost two weeks in the Neonatal ICU. What this meant was that a lot of my fantasies and planning around her birth went completely out the window. 

On the day that we had our embryo transfer, we took a photo of my husband and I in hospital scrubs minutes before the transfer, for the first time ever. The day before, my sister and her husband gave birth to my beautiful neice and they had sent a (quite standard), Caesar photo… You know the one, with mom horizontal on the table, baby on chest and dad looking proudly on? Well, on the day of our embryo transfer, this image was very much in my mind, which it had never been before. I felt so sure that we would have the opportunity to take this photo and I wanted a ‘before’ and ‘after’ photo. We never got to take that birth photo but we did get our precious child so that doesn’t matter….but perhaps illustrates the specificity of my fantasies. 

Prior to her birth I was very concerned about skin to skin and delayed cord clamping, and had, had two conversations with my gynae to ensure that these would happen for us. Fate had other plans. What ended up happening was that our daughter was born and was almost immediately in distress and so had to be assisted with oxygen. I had given my husband strict instructions that whatever happened he was to remain with baby and so he immediately went over to her whilst the doctors were working on me. It was surreal and scary as I couldn’t see anything, but kept asking questions as they were evaluating her. Eventually a nurse brought her over to me so that I could see her for literally two seconds, saying ‘be quick mommy because she can’t breathe’. I was horrified, like ‘please God if she can’t breathe don’t bring her to me just make sure that she can breathe!’. I gave her a quick kiss on her forehead and she was shipped away to NICU and my husband went with her. The longest part of a Caesar is definitely the stitching up afterwards and I felt like I was alone on the table forever. I felt so overwhelmed, my mind was racing and I was desperate to know how my daughter was doing. Eventually I was wheeled back to my room and my husband finished with our daughter and came to check on me and give me an update. By the end of that evening he was physically exhausted from running up and down between my daughter and I. He said she was fine and beautiful and in good hands and told me that she was going to be great but that she needed a bit of support and time. Whilst I believed him, I desperately wanted to see her myself and to find some reassurance from experiencing her personally. Of course I couldn’t move and I would only get to see her the next day. That night was the most bizarre night of my life. I didn’t sleep one wink, despite all the drugs and the fact that I had just had major surgery. I literally lay awake all night in increasing amounts of pain, almost meditating on my daughter and holding her in my mind. The weird part was that I wasn’t highly anxious… I would say that I was more anxious during the first trimester than I was that night, but it was almost as if the only way I could be with her was in my mind and so I stayed awake to make sure she wasn’t alone. 

The next day I was in a huge amount of pain but I was desperate to see her so as soon as we were allowed to go up to the NICU, we went. And this is where perhaps the donor egg conception played a role. When I first saw her there was a strange feeling of disconnect. Not that I didn’t love her, because I did, but a sense of ‘where did she come from’? She looked so strange. Because she had difficulty breathing, she had a CPAP mask on, which was secured with a hat on her head. The mask and the hat had distorted her features and she looked like a little Martian heading off to space. I looked at her and felt such a sense of surprise at how she looked that the only way I could make sense of it is that she obviously looked a lot like our donor. This didn’t make me love her less but it brought our donor very forcefully into my mind in a way that I really wasn’t anticipating and wasn’t altogether welcome. I didn’t want to be thinking about our donor as much as I was on such an important day. Fortunately, there was also a big part of me that knew that this feeling was no doubt very natural and trusted that I would love my daughter regardless. I didn’t fear that it would interfere with bonding but rather that it was a phase that I would need to work through. And I have done this and in the process I have renewed my gratitude to the donor for helping me make this beautiful child. I have also found beauty in the parts of her that are so unlike me. For example, I’m lilly white… I often joke that I get sunburnt just sitting at a robot for too long. Our daughter has the most beautiful olive skin (our donor is Portugese in origin and my husband is Italian), and she is definitely a Mediterranean child. So different to me but in a good and beautiful way. In doing this I feel like I have found a way to position the donor in my life in such a way that she plays a small, but positive role for which I am truly grateful. 

Anyway, for the first couple of days our daughter needed to be in an incubator and couldn’t be moved due to tubes and oxygen etc. On about day 4 she was able to be moved from the incubator and we were finally able to hold her for the first time. On an emotional level, this was the moment that I had pictured on that day we had our embryo transfer. It didn’t go according to plan, but the day did arrive when I was able to hold my precious daughter in my arms. I tear up remembering it because when I finally held her I sobbed and sobbed. Tears of utter relief, joy and gratitude. Neither my husband nor I said a word, we just sat quietly together for the first time as a family of three. That moment will always be so very special to me…and her donor egg origins didn’t matter at all. 


My heart is full: the birth of my daughter

***Trigger warning***Please do not read this if you are stuck in the trenches of infertility and reading another birth story will be like sticking a knife through your heart. Been there, done that… if you need to, unfollow me quickly and reach out to someone else who is in the same space that you are.

I’ve literally been meaning to update my blog for months now. There is so much that I have wanted to write about but for one reason or another never managed to sit down and actually do it! And then as time passed, there was so much to catch up on that it started feeling a little bit overwhelming and I found myself actually avoiding writing, not knowing where to start. So, tonight I decided enough was enough and to tackle the facts of my daughter’s birth story. I’d like to engage more with my thoughts and feelings around the whole expereince but I will leave that for another day. For now, let me tell you how I finally came to hold my precious child in my arms.

My daughter’s birth story starts about a month before she was born, at my 32 week check up. Up until then I had, had a healthy and uncomplicated pregnancy. This in itself was a strange and surreal experience as I was so used to things going wrong that to have everything go smoothly and to feel and look well was a very happy surprise. Unfortunately, at my 32 week check up, my blood pressure was worryingly high and I was diagnosed with gestational hypertension. We happened to be going away the next day for a friend’s wedding and for what turned out to be my surprise baby shower…both occassions in my home town. My Doctor said it would be fine to go but to try and take it easy and to get my blood pressure checked on the Saturday. Well, it was impossible to take it easy and it turned into a beautiful but busy weekend. I had my blood pressure checked as she asked and it hadn’t gone down much but it also hadn’t gone up.

Fast forward through that next week. I had to have my blood pressure checked every second day and instead of going down it was steadily going up. By Friday afternoon it was the highest it had been and so my Doctor decided to admit me for the night. Being in bed for the night and next day and literally doing nothing brought my blood pressure right down. Getting up the next afternoon and packing to go home brought it back up. So, I was told to take it very easy. I immediately had to stop one of my jobs but thought it would be OK to see clients from my office at home. Well, it wasn’t. My next check up a few days later showed a still worryingly high BP despite reducing my activities significantly. In addition, the medication I was on made me very drowsy and physically exhausted. Walking to the kitchen made my legs feel like lead and I’d be out of breath as though I had run a marathon. I was put on bed rest and told to stop work immediately. I found this very stressful. The nature of my work is that I provide a safe and reliable space for my clients and I felt very guilty about abandoning them suddenly a month earlier than expected. Fortunately the vast majority of them were very understanding.

On the day that I was told I needed to be on bed rest my Mom phoned to ask how I was doing. I had a meltdown and told her how stressed I was – I was feeling extremely overwhelmed by the logistics of bed rest. How would I care for my animals? How would I get to all my doctors appointments? How would my husband and I organise shopping, cooking, cleaning etc etc. My Mom doesn’t live in the same city as me but by that evening she had hopped on a plane and was at my house to take care of me. It was the most amazing, nurturing and loving act and my Mom and I continued to have a very special three weeks together. We haven’t lived in the same town for many years and so although we see each other reasonably often, we are always ‘visiting’. This time there were no outings to go on, people to see or things to do. We stayed at home, only going out to doctors appointments. My mom shopped, cooked, walked my dog, played with my dog, petted my cat, brought me tea and generally loved and nurtured me and mine. I will always be grateful for this time that we had together and know how very blessed I am to have the relationship I do with my Mom.

This bed rest didn’t really bring my blood pressure down, but it did keep it reasonably stable. However, the doctor decided that she would bring my caesar date forward to the day that I would be 37 weeks, which was Sunday 16 July. She felt at 37 weeks baby girl would be better off outisde than inside. On Thursday 13 July I spent the whole day working on my tax. I wanted it done by the time my daughter was born as I knew it would be the last thing on my mind once she arrived. It was not hard, just tedious, and I spent the day on my laptop. That evening I finally closed my laptop, sat down with my Mom in front of the TV and suddenly becamse aware that I hadn’t felt my daughter move very much during the course of the day. Trying not to panic, I drank some orange juice and lay down to see if I could do a kick count. Over the next hour she kicked a couple of times but very faintly. When my husband got home I expressed my concerns to him and he suggested I contact the Doctor, which I did. She asked me to go in for a Non Stress Test, just to be sure that everything was fine. Now, I have to add that twice before I had felt concerned about lack of movement, and had gone and had an NST done. Both times baby girl was fine. So, I was expecting that I was over reacting again and that the NST would reassure me that everything was fine. My Mom had bought steak for dinner and I told her I would let her know when we were leaving the hospital so she could gauge when to start cooking the steak. Well, as you’ve probably gathered there would be no steak that night.

The NST showed that I was in labour! The nurses were shocked that I hadn’t felt the contractions but I genuinely hadn’t. As well as that, my blood pressure was through the roof – 195/105 and baby girl was in distress as her heart rate kept dipping. My Doctor decided that baby needed to come out immediately and within a couple of hours, at 21h00, she was born via emergency caesar. She weighed a tiny 1.94kg’s and needed help breathing. Unfortunately because of this she was immediately sent to the Neonatal ICU. I was able to get a brief glimpse of her and give her a kiss on her forehead before she was whipped away and she ended up spending 12 days in the NICU.

During the birth we found out that there was what is called a ‘true knot’ in her cord. This is literally a knot in the cord and can be very dangerous and even fatal in pregnancy. It is possibly the combination of this true knot as well as the gestational hypertension that caused her to be so small and her lungs to be under developed. We also had the placenta tested and it showed signs of an autoimmune reaction. What is significant about this is that we did an auto immune protocol (intrallipids and prednisone), with no proof that an autoimmune condition existed. However, I have a family history of autimmune conditions and with two previous miscarriages, we had a strong suspicion that there was an underlying autoimmune response going on and we decided that we would rather be safe than sorry. I have to admit to feeling somewhat vindicated by the results of the placenta. In fact the Doctor who performed the test said that we would almost certainly have miscarried again had we not done the immune protocol. Absence of proof is NOT proof of absence. Interestingly, the Doctor believes that it is these changes to the placenta that caused the gestational hypertension. Amazing how it is all linked. We already knew that this was our miracle child, but the events surrounding her birth and the facts that emerged have reinforced that a hundered fold. As I said at the beginning, I will definitely write more about my thoughts and feelings at a later stage…especially around some of the dynamics relating to the use of donor eggs. For now, I am loving motherhood. I still have to pinch myself to believe that this amazing little girl is mine, and that she is here to stay. She has been home with us for 6 weeks now, turns 8 weeks tomorrow, and my heart is full.


An update

Hi blog friends. I know I have been very quiet of late. It’s something I’ve been aware of but I haven’t felt like writing and I’m not really sure why. Everytime I turn my head towards writing a blog post I feel deflated and can’t seem to find the words. Even more strangely this writers block is not due to being in a bad place emotionally or otherwise, in fact, I have been in a good place. Perhaps this has something to do with it…a desire to not over-analyse, to just ‘be’? 

So we are expecting a daughter! We found out at our 16 week scan and the image was really clear so we were confident that she is indeed a girl. I couldn’t be happier, which is weird as I’d probably be just as happy with a boy. Knowing her gender has made it more real though and allows for more specific fantasizing, which I’ve been loving. 

We had our full anatomy scan today at 25w3d. Our last scan was at 21 weeks and so I knew that there were no major or obvious issues with baby girl and so today for the first time I was more excited than nervous about having a scan. She is growing perfectly and her anatomy is 100% normal. How absolutely miraculous and wonderful. I couldn’t be more grateful. 

I’ve also been feeling her move a lot in the last day or two which has been really awesome. I love every kick and every roll. I have an anterior placenta which has meant that I’ve had to be quite patient with regards to feeling movement… more waiting, who would have guessed, lol??!!! My husband still hasn’t been able to feel her move but that should happen any day now. 

Today we booked our hospital bed, set our caesar date and paid our hospital deposit… it seems like this is seriously happening folks! Baby girl will hopefully make her entrance on 2 August at 5am! She will share a birthday with my late grandfather who I adored, so that’s really special. Next week I will go and have a routine glucose test… fingers crossed that all the easter eggs I ate will not come back to bite me!

We have begun getting ourselves ready. We’ve painted the nursery, cleared out some closets and bought a pram and a car seat. My sister in law gave us her old cot and compactum and so I am busy painting them… slowly I must say as I do a bit each day. I no longer feel too terrified to do these things and in fact  have been really enjoying these acts of preparation. 

Apart from heartburn in the last week or so I have felt really well physically… no aches and pains, no headaches, no weird food cravings. My mood has been generally relaxed and happy and the crippling anxiety of the first trimester has definitely faded. I never expected to have an easy pregnancy! I kind of assumed that since I was so crappie at falling pregnant and then staying pregnant, that I would also be really crappie at being pregnant. So to feel well is actually a big, happy surprise… long may it last! 

Do I think about the fact that my little girl is here due to donor eggs… for sure, occasionally. For example today at the anatomy scan we were told that she is quite tall, which was a suprise because I’m not tall and neither is my husband and so I never expected a tall child. The donor must have tall genes somewhere in her family as she herself is about my height. Does this bother me? Nope. When I try to picture what baby girl will look like and what she will be like, its really hard… harder because she doesn’t share my genetics and because we don’t know what our donor is like as an adult? Maybe, probably….I wouldn’t know. But I’m not sad about this. She has the freedom to pop out and be uniquely and simply, herself. Does she feel any less mine? Not a chance. 


Here we are at 15 weeks tomorrow. I still have a hard time believing that it is real and I wonder when the reality will start sinking in. Luckily I have been able to find baby on the home doppler I bought and so when I have an anxious moment I just tune into my little one’s heart beating away…it’s enormously reassuring.  

In terms of treatment I have weaned myself off the prednisone over the last week. I think I managed the withdrawal process ok although I did feel exceptionally tired, which I put down to part pregnancy and part prednisone withdrawal. On a side note, it is advised that you not go on prednisone if you have a fungal infection anywhere on your body…who knew?! Unfortunately for me I had a fungal rash on my face prior to falling pregnant which I was treating but has just got worse and worse….lovely. Apparently this is because your immune system is too suppressed by the prdnisone to fight off the infection effectively. I’m hoping that now that I’m off the prednisone I can treat this rash for good….it’ll be nice to NOT have a rash on my face!  

On the topic of appearances, I decided not to colour my hair during the first trimester on the advise of my RE. I do have quite a few greys and dark hair.. making the greys noticeable. I’ve felt slightly self conscious about this and so was very glad to finally get my hair done this last week…having my roots done and a good trim has really made me feel more myself. Now if only that rash would go away. 

One or two people have commented on what they think is an emerging bump. Interestingly I’ve felt very self conscious about this too, which is strange as I wasn’t expecting to feel that way. I think the attention on my body is just about bit overwhelming! I personally think I look the same but it’s hard to tell as the weight I’ve gained over the course of ivf has made me look pregnant for about two years now! I’m looking forward to being able to distinguish between fat and baby…hopefully soon.

Yesterday I wondered around some baby stores for the first time. Again, I had a slightly unexpected reaction…a feeling of being completely overwhelmed and not even knowing how one would start getting everything ready and making choices..slowly would be my guess!?? I eventually picked up two cute and warm onsies but ended up putting them back and grabbing a toasted sandwich and cup of tea instead. Three years ago, we had, had a full year of medicated cycles and were onto our third and final IUI. We had the IUI done on my birthday and I felt so strongly that the stars and universe had aligned and that this was our time, that I bought this little onesie… 

I’m afraid I don’t know how to rotate it but I’m sure you can read at an angle! My naivete and optimisim is obvious and when I see this onesie I feel slightly foolish, but also quite sad. The reality would turn out to be so much harder and longer than I ever expected. In a strange twist of timing, this year we’ll be finding out our baby’s gender the day after my birthday…the stars and the universe have finally aligned. Anyway, I think these feelings are making shopping currently too difficult and I’ll just have to wait until I’m in a different place.  

On that note, I have a younger cousin who is also pregnant. She’s two weeks ahead of me and her baby shower is already organised and we have received a spreadsheet of an exhaustive list of baby items to buy from. I was really taken aback. Firstly, I didn’t realise that this is what one does for a baby shower. I always thought you just chose a gift you felt inclined to buy, rather than working off a registry.  Secondly, I’m only two weeks behind her but there is no way I would even be able to start a list, let alone one that is so comprehensive…right down to ear buds and nail clippers. On the upside I might use her list later on to help guide me, lol. 

Our next scan is in two weeks time and we really hope baby will cooperate so that we can find out the gender.  I’m really excited for this.  A brief poll of the family suggests that 90% of us (including my husband and myself), believe baby is a girl…I guess we all have a 50% chance of being right!! 

12w3d and meeting our gynae for the first time

Today was the big day when we met the doctor who will deliver our baby and we had the NT scan. I had been feeling very anxious prior to this appointment. In fact I have been in a weird space….anxious, slightly down and depressed, emotionally flat and very tired. I tried to describe it to my therapist and I guess it’s a case of having held myself together for the first trimester reasonably well but as we reached the end suddenly feeling as though my coping resources were wearing pretty thin and just feeling exhausted by the whole thing. You know that pressure cooker feeling when a big cry might be just what you need? That’s been me.

So going into this appointment wasn’t easy. I slept badly and woke up at 4.30am with a headache. Fortunately I fell asleep for another hour later on and so felt a bit better by the time we left the house. Unfortunately when we got to the appointment we were told that there had been an unexpected delivery (2…as it turns out…sisters!!!!), and the doc was running an hour late. So we waited and waited and waited some more….isn’t that one of the defining experiences of infertility though? The endless wait. Eventually we were called in and of course there was a lot of information that she needed to gather. The doctor seems nice…a slightly quirky sense of humour that I didn’t always get, but an essentially nice person who seems to know what she’s doing. She also seemed familiar with my protocol and was quite happy for me to stay on clexane for the rest of the pregnancy, up until 6 weeks post partum. This was a relief as I assumed I’d have some convincing to do. Finally it came time for the scan. The whole time we were talking and planning I wanted to say ‘well of course this is all irrelevant if my baby has died’. Isn’t it awful that, that’s my thought process…but there it is, that’s just the reality.

But my baby hadn’t died! There he or she was in all its splendid glory, snuggled in my womb sucking his or her thumb. The epitome of cuteness. All the measurements were good and we will hopefully get our risk profile by Monday. I’m not too concerned as the donor eggs are 23 years old and so our risk should be reasonably low. 

So that’s the good news for today. It still feels totally and utterly surreal …after 4 years of struggle and pain we may finally take our baby home in 6 short months. 

9 weeks 5 days

To say I was nervous about our scan yesterday would be a gross under statement. I slept poorly the night before and had a really bad headache – part estrogen, part stress I think. I’m not used to good news and scans have their own particular trauma that I seem to relive every single time. The few minutes between getting onto the table and waiting for the doctor to come into the room have to be the worst by far. My heart pounds and I feel sick to my stomach. My head is filled with memories of past experiences… ‘I’m sorry but there’s been no growth, there’s no heartbeat’. My husband and I tend to hold each other and I know that he prays while I take deep breathes and try to still my racing heart. Yesterday was no different, except that simultaneously, there was a part of me that could imagine a different outcome. Could picture a tiny baby with a big head and a strong heartbeat. Could imagine the sigh of relief and the wonder of a new life.

Immediately as the doctor inserted the wand he said ‘baby’s fine’. I breathed an enormous sigh of relief and he laughed, saying he felt exactly the same. My husband grabbed my phone to take a video and he just kept saying thank you, thank you. We’ve never seen an actual baby before and it was truly magical. Baby was measuring two days ahead at 10 weeks exactly and has a heartbeat of 159bpm.

After the scan we went through to consult with the doctor as this would be our last appointment with him. This in itself is hard to believe after three years of treatment with him. For the first time ever he was confident in our little one saying that all good things come to those who wait, and that we had waited more than most. He told us to bring the baby to show him and to include him on the birth announcement list. I literally couldn’t believe that we were having this conversation. I also went to say goodbye to our nurse who has been a great support through this whole journey and has replied to untold emails with untold questions, with great patience. She hugged me and wished us well and also asked to be kept updated.

So now, I have been told to come off my hormones – the daily progesterone injections and the estrogen. Whilst I am excited in a sense as I think my headaches will improve, I am also terrified. There is a part of me that just wants to continue doing what we have been doing until we have this baby in our arms. I’m so afraid that stopping anything could halt the wonderful progress that we have been making. But my doctor assured me that at this stage the placenta is producing more progesterone than we could ever artificially provide my body with and that staying on it would be purely for my psychological benefit. I’m actually not opposed to the placebo effect but I decided to trust my doctor on this one – I know he would not do anything at this stage to jeopardize this pregnancy. For now I will remain on the clexane and the prednisone, weaning myself off the prednisone slowly once we hit 12 weeks. He felt we could come off the clexane at 12 weeks but I would prefer to stay on it for longer  – there is no risk to the baby and it would provide enormous peace of mind. My doctor firmly believes that it was the 2 months of lucron prior to transfer as well as the clexane that were the deal breakers this time and I’m inclined to agree.

We have an appointment with a regular OB on the 25th January at the hospital where we would like to deliver. My doctor has written a referral letter and we have some basic details of our donor (age and blood group) to hand over. Interestingly, my doctor asked if we would be telling our OB about the donor eggs. I hadn’t even considered NOT telling her, as it seems medically relevant. At 38, they will treat this pregnancy very differently to how they will knowing that the eggs are 23 year old eggs. Apparently some women choose not to tell their doctor – to each their own I guess, but I firmly believe knowledge is power and so my new doc will definitely be getting this information.

SO the next challenge is to find a place of peace and hope while we wait for the next scan in two and a half weeks. This will not be easy, but I’m going to do my best.

Impatiently waiting…written 5 December.

5 weeks and 4 days today and I’m convinced that my breasts are a little less sensitive than yesterday. I keep prodding them and trying to conjur up the sensation of yesterday in a desperate attempt at comparison. I’m almost tempted to Google. 

And this friends, is the craziness and torture of very early pregnancy after loss. In our last pregnancy I had heavy bleeding at 5 weeks 3 days. I was anxious the whole day yesterday and checked my underwear a  million times. I know this is not rational and that the odds of things recurring on the same day are basically zero but I guess that is what trauma does to you…it skews your thinking, creates emotional triggers and hypervigilance. Having  got through the day unscathed I feel a sense of foreboding… surely we can’t be so lucky? When will the next hammer fall? How will it happen this time? 

10 more sleeps until our first scan at 7 weeks exactly. Sadly, even if everything is 100% on track at that point there will still be anxiety as last pregnancy we saw a great healthy heart beat at 7 weeks and then the next week…nothing. I have to keep reminding myself that this is a different pregnancy and that we are doing things very differently to sustain it. Please may the next ten days fly by!

5 weeks today… written 1 December.

So here we are again. My third pregnancy. So far I have fallen pregnant 100% of the time that we have done an embryo transfer. Impressive hey? I just wish I was as good at sustaining a pregnancy and really hope that this third time is the charm.

Today I had my second intrallipid infusion. This sounds crazy but it was reasonably pleasant. They gave me a bed to lie down in, wrapped me up in a lovely soft blanket and put a hot water bottle on my arm to ease the discomfort. I felt so cosy and comfortable that I ended up falling asleep! Meanwhile the poor lady opposite me was crying in pain from the same procedure…I guess I was lucky?! I’m not too sure when the next one will be or whether or not there will be a next one but I’ll speak to my doctor soon to gain clarity. 

Today my mouth is a lot better after taking the prednisone and I hope the 10mg the doctor put me on is sufficient.  I really feel like keeping this pregnancy is a battle that I have to fight with everything I’ve got and I have to listen to my body and intuition. 

On that note, I’m  continuing to follow my gut when it comes to my health and body. I’ve  continued taking baby aspirin despite being told that I could stop yesterday. Last year I miscarried days after stopping the aspirin and with my mthfr  (undiagnosed at that time), I’ve always suspected a blood clot caused the pregnancy to end as we tested the baby and it was 100% healthy and normal. So, I will be staying on the aspirin and will continue with the clexane (which is still hurting like a bitch!). The other thing I did which was met with some disapproval by my doctor was that I self tested my progesterone. I just ticked it off on the blood order form when I went to have my beta done. It was on the low side, which my doc explained was due to the protocol I had been on… lucron as well as the fact that the pessaries cause progesterone to be absorbed directly to the uterus and so testing progesterone in the blood is not an accurate reflection. Regardless, my doc switched me to injectable progesterone which I feel more comfortable with, although my stomach is really starting to take strain with all the injections. 

Last night my husband said the sweetest thing to me. He thanked me for all the hard work I’ve put into this journey, how much I have fought to understand my body and all the painful procedures I’ve been through in order to be in an optimal state for pregnancy. He thanked me and expressed his pride in me. It was sweet to hear and I felt very validated. 


Dreaming…written 29 November.

Today I have been feeling optimistic. We’re doing things so differently this pregnancy: we’re using clexane and intrallipid infusions; I know about my mthfr mutations and so am on the right supplements and I have cleansed my body of mercury which could have had a detrimental impact on a developing baby. We know so much more than we did during our last two pregnancies and I hope and pray that this is what we need in order to actually carry a pregnancy to term. 

In my optimism I’ve done some dreaming. I didn’t think I would do this as I have lost so much faith in happy outcomes, but I couldn’t help myself. I know this means that if everything crashes I’ll probably fall even harder… but then I think, what if it doesn’t crash? I want to enjoy this pregnancy and I defininitely don’t want to spend it feeling anxious and scared. 

So I downloaded a pregnancy app. It says that I am 4 weeks 5 days pregnant and the baby is the size of a poppy seed. I also did some browsing of nursery furniture online. Years ago my sister in law very generously gave us her used cot and compactum.  It’s very nice but not what I would choose for myself. It’s also been sitting in our garage for years and somehow feels cursed. But mostly, after all these years I really want to enjoy every aspect of pregnancy, including choosing my own style of nursery furniture. I found a gorgeous eco friendly cot made out of bamboo, that also converts into a toddler bed once the baby outgrows the cot. It’s simple and modern and elegant. I also looked at some beautiful linen and I have some fun ideas in mind. It was so much fun to dream and to imagine finally having a baby.

I also downloaded this, which is very useful…

I can’t belive we could be out of the first trimester by the end of January and I’m hoping that the holidays helps these early weeks pass more quickly. I know this dreaming is dangerous but I figure it’s not going to affect the outcome and instead of bathing my developing baby in cortisol and adrenaline (stress hormones), it will provide a better environment for the fragile nervous system that is busy growing. We’re having a third beta done tomorrow, another intrallipid infusion on Thursday and the first scan is booked for 15 December. Grow baby grow!