Books, Bath Bombs, and Boogie Nights - Becoming Me

Wow, what an incredible 4 months it’s been! I sometimes can’t believe Henry’s 4 months already (19 weeks and 3 days, to be precise) because it’s going so quickly, and at other times, it feels as if he’s been with us forever. I’m sure most parents are familiar with that feeling!

I know I’m biased but we really have been lucky. He’s a brilliant baby – he sleeps well at night, he took to breastfeeding easily, and he’s very chatty and giggly. The only issue has been his reflux, prompting my husband to ask (after a particularly explosive reflux session, getting through 6 outfits within 10 minutes), “Reckon we can return him to the fertility clinic and get our money back? Tell them that this one’s defective; he keeps leaking!”

For anyone suddenly concerned – yes, he was joking!

In short, parenthood is amazing and so far, nothing in the world can beat the feeling when Henry smiles and giggles at me.

So why did I suddenly feel overwhelmingly sad a few weeks ago?

It wasn’t constant. It wasn’t all encompassing. It didn’t make me feel anything negative towards Henry.

But still, I felt sad.

And guilty!

After everything we’d been through to have Henry! All the worries; the pressures and fear; the money; the medication I had to inject; the incredible excitement when we realised the IVF had actually worked!

Why was I feeling sad?

I worked out pretty quickly that I wasn’t sad about Henry in any way.

I talked with my husband about it and I talked with my friend about it (she’s had 4 children – if anyone could relate, I knew it would be her!), and after a lot of soul searching, it became clear that I was worried about losing myself.

I realised I don’t want to be ‘Henry’s Mum’ - I want to be ‘Emma, who is Henry’s Mum’.

I don’t know if that distinction makes sense or seems important to anyone but me.

Of course Henry is always going to come first in my life now, but that doesn’t mean I’m not myself anymore and I realised that I needed to start making some time for things that make me Emma.

If someone asked me what hobbies my husband enjoys doing, I’d tell them photography, playing his guitar, and woodworking. If someone asked my husband what hobbies I have, he’d probably tell them drawing and doing crafty things (knitting, sewing, etc).

Except, actually, I haven’t done anything in a long time.

How long had it been since I read (and finished) a novel? I couldn’t remember!

How long since I’d drawn something just because I wanted to, not for a gift? I think it was when I drew Sam Carter (bonus points for those who know who that is) back in 2015.

When did I last write for the fun of it, aside from this blog which is more like therapy? Again, I couldn’t remember.

Some of that is just life as an adult getting in the way, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised that I’d been focused on “baby” for so long, that I’d completely neglected myself. Obviously once you’re pregnant, everything tends to become about getting ready for the baby, and rightfully so, but I don’t think it had occurred to me just how much I’d been all about the baby before I was even pregnant.

We made the decision in December 2016 that I’d go to the doctor in January about not being able to fall pregnant, and from that moment on, everything in my head became about this. Operation Parent. I was desperate and determined.

Appointments, tests, scans, keeping diaries of when things happened, then the surgery and IVF itself – I lived it completely. I was IVF Emma, and that left very little room in my head for regular Emma.

Tunnel vision!

So I’ve made a promise to myself that I’m going to make some time for me to be me.

I’ve got some books to read when Henry is napping, or has gone to sleep in the evening – I’ve already finished one! My lovely husband has bought me some bath bombs (I hate bubbles in a bath but fill it with fizzy pink sparkles and I’m all over it), and I’ve just started going to tap dancing lessons.

I feel better already! When I arrived home from my Tap lesson last night, my husband commented that I looked refreshed. He was right! Exhausted and sweaty of course, but definitely refreshed. 

So my message to anyone out there who’s pregnant or has just had a baby, is to still make time for yourself. It doesn’t have to be a huge thing – it can be as small as reading a chapter of a book while the baby is napping, but it’s so important to remember that you’re an individual too, not just a parent. 

It doesn’t make you a bad parent to want a bit of time for you!

Birth!

So here it is!

On the way down to Labour Suite, the midwife explained that I was never in line to have the 3^rd dose of the induction medication.

Were I being induced because I was overdue, they would continue the normal induction process until it either worked or they had to stop and deliver the baby via c-section. However, because the induction was due to my waters breaking, they were under a time limit of only having 48 hours to get labour started properly.

Hence my move down to Labour Suite 48 hours after my waters broke!

Not being entirely sure how the next part of the induction would work (given that my contractions were clearly still not properly established), I asked whether I would be allowed a water birth.

She actually scoffed!

Thanks, lady.

I think she realised she’d been a bit rude and dismissive because she then explained why. To progress the contractions, I would need to be hooked up to a drip of oxytocin right up to the point of giving birth, and while on the drip, the baby would need to be monitored constantly.

It was at this point that I realised, with not a small amount of dread, that aside from going to the toilet, I would more than likely be laying in the same position on the same bed right up until I actually had the baby.

So here I am – still cheerful at this point! On the right of the photo, you can see the medication on the drip, going into my hand. On the left, you can see the monitor, recording the baby’s heartbeat and my contractions. 

The midwife settled me into our room and said she would be back soon to put me on the drip and monitor.

I really can’t explain how excited I was at this point! Nervous, yes. Terrified, of course. But still so excited.

Soon, the midwife returned and hooked me up to the drip. She showed me a long tube with the medication in it, and explained that all the medication I should need was in there, and that a specific amount would be released each hour. This amount could be adjusted based on how my body and the baby were responding, and I would be starting out at 1mg per hour.

To be honest, I was expecting this to be adjusted each hour but I was increased to 2mg an hour pretty quickly. Within about half an hour, I think.

It wasn’t long before shift change gave us a new midwife, Vicki, and Hayley the student midwife, who would actually be the one who ended up coaching me through the birth itself.

At this point, not much was happening really. For a good few hours, I was in a cycle of my medication being increased, staying as calm as possible through some quite intense contractions, and watching the monitor.

My husband only told me this once I’d already given birth, and I had no clue at the time, but the midwives were at this point considering giving me a c-section, because I wasn’t really reacting when I had a contraction. They were apparently worried that if I wasn’t feeling the contractions when they were registering as strongly as they were on the monitor, I wouldn’t be able to use them properly to help me push.

The thing is, I was feeling them! I was just trying to stay as calm as possible and breathe through them.  Luckily for me though, by the time my medication was at 9mg, I knew I’d need some pain relief, so began using the gas and air but in all honesty, it didn’t do much apart from make me feel light headed.

Around 10pm, my cervix was checked and I was proclaimed to be 4cm dilated! The decision was made to increase the medication again, taking me to 11mg per hour, to ensure that I continued to progress.

The gas and air was still feeling a bit useless, so I asked for pethidine. Let’s just say, if I were to ever be giving birth again, I wouldn’t bother with it! It made my light-headedness worse, it made me feel nauseous, and it didn’t really do anything to help with the pain.

I don’t know how long it was after that the pain became unbearable. I do remember it was quite sudden!

I told my husband I needed an epidural, and I had it within about 10 minutes. The relief! It turned out that the medication had been turned up so high to help me feel the contractions that I was actually contracting too much and too often (which I never knew was possible). Looking at the printout from the monitor, it was almost as if I was having one long contraction, as it didn’t have a chance to fade properly before the next began building.

No wonder it hurt!

I took the opportunity to get a bit of sleep, though it wasn’t completely restful – an epidural doesn’t completely numb you, you know!

Around 3am, my cervix was checked again and I was fully dilated! Vicki explained that she’d like me to rest for bit more and let the baby descend a bit further on his own.

“You’ll be pushing in an hour.”

I do remember feeling suddenly very nervous at that point, but I think tiredness overrode that because I know I did fall asleep again after texting my family to tell them I was fully dilated.

4am arrived, along with my midwife, student midwife, and the midwife in charge (to wish me luck).

It began!

Altogether, I was pushing for an hour and a half, and the majority of that time was incredibly frustrating. I knew going in that a lot of pushing is to just move the baby down the birth canal, but to be honest I didn’t fully appreciate quite how much effort that takes! Though I couldn’t be sure of timings because – hey – was a little too busy to look at a clock, I’d estimate that of those 90 minutes, at least 80 of them were spent getting him down the birth canal. Actually pushing him out was easy in comparison to that!

I think part of the problem is that you can’t actually tell how much progress you’re making at that point – you’re completely reliant on the midwives telling you that he is indeed moving.

Yes it was very tough, yes it was extremely hard work, but I think I went into a bit of a trance because suddenly one of the midwives said that she could see his head. I do remember that I didn’t believe her! No way was I that close to actually having him!

So she made me reach down and feel.

“Oh my god, he’s got hair!”

At this point, my midwife let the student midwife (Hayley) talk me through the rest of the birth. It all happened rather quickly after that. Before I knew it, there he was!

They put him up on my chest immediately and I just held on. It didn’t feel real that this, right here, was my own baby and that I got to keep him.

After negative test after negative test, countless invasive and undignified examinations, and IVF, was it really possible that we actually had our baby boy there in front of us?

I expected to be hurried straight back up to the ward but actually, I had a very relaxing couple of hours on the Labour Suite. Henry was checked over, I had a shower once my legs started working again after the epidural, and I was given some food (it all came straight back up but they got me some more and I managed to keep it down – apparently that can be because of the injection they give you to help deliver the placenta).

After all that, Henry was wrapped up and put into his little cot, I was given a wheelchair, and we went back up to another private room on the ward.

And there we were… a year and 2 days after finding out that my fallopian tubes were blocked and we needed IVF, we were sat in the hospital with our brand new, perfect baby.

Henry, born at 5:30am on 6^th May 2018.

Perfect.

Induction

Loaded up with all our bags, plus a massive v-shaped pillow, we made our way to the hospital at 4pm on the Friday. Thankfully, we were given a private room, which was a huge relief! The idea of sleeping on a ward had filled me with horror, and I waddled into that building quite prepared to beg for a private room if necessary.

When we were shown to the room I was told that I’d be induced soon after arrival, so that the baby wouldn’t be left too long without the protection offered by the waters. We got ourselves set up – I had all my snacks lined up ready to go, my husband got the tablet set up on the wifi so that we could Netflix some random comedies to keep my distracted once the contractions started*.

*Other streaming services are available!

I knew I'd be spending a lot of time in this room!

A midwife popped in to introduce herself and welcome me to the maternity building. She explained that they were very busy so they would start the induction process around 6pm. Yes, it was slightly annoying to have to wait when it’s something so exciting but 2 hours isn’t an awful wait really.

6 o'clock came. 6 o'clock went. No induction.

To be honest, it wasn't the lack of induction that bothered me. It was the fact that nobody came to tell me why it would be delayed, or even that it would be delayed. I pressed the call buzzer a few times and the staff told me that someone would see me ‘soon’.

At this point, the excitement had pretty much disappeared and all I was feeling were the nerves! It had suddenly hit me that I might be in hospital longer than I originally anticipated, and that it was really about to happen. I just wanted them to get on with it!

Eventually, at 9:30 p.m. one of the night shift midwives – Julie – came to start my induction. She explained that there had been a delivery on the ward (which is pretty rare because usually the woman is sent down to labour ward in time) and that this is what had caused the delay. It was totally fair enough, but I still wished someone had popped in to explain, rather than just leave me hanging.

Anyway, induction time!

There are a number of stages to induction, which broadly follow the pattern of monitoring, medication, monitoring, and waiting. This process can be done 4 times, at specific intervals, but not everyone will need all 4 doses to successfully start their labour.

It begins with spending half an hour hooked up to a monitor to see how the baby is doing, which provides a baseline for the midwives to compare to later monitoring. For those of you who don't know, when you are on the monitor you have to sit completely still otherwise the pads of the monitor can slip and they won't be registering the baby anymore.

Now I don't know about you, but when I have nothing to do, I can sit totally still for hours, watching tv, reading a book, or even doing absolutely nothing. On the other hand, when I am told that I HAVE to sit still and not move, I become incredibly restless.

As soon as she put the monitor on, I was pretty sure I’d be able to run a marathon at that moment. I just wanted to MOVE.

Still, it's only half an hour, right?

Wrong.

Because, once that monitoring is over, the next stage of induction begins.

This part is when the midwife inserts a pessary of medication into the cervix. It contains prostaglandins, which is the hormone that the body releases to stimulate contractions. Although it isn’t instant, a few doses of prostaglandins is often enough to kickstart labour.

Then you’re put on the monitor again, this time for an hour, to make sure that the baby is not distressed by the medication, and to see whether any small contractions have begun.

This entire process was repeated 6 hours later, which for me was 3:30 in the morning. Joy of joys.

Before my second dose, I had started to have contractions and although they were only about 30 seconds long and were quite far apart, they were still frequent and painful enough that I noticed them! So you can imagine, when the midwife arrived at 3:30, I hadn’t had very much sleep.

3:30am monitoring - baby was nice and sleepy with a heartbeat of 122 beats per minute!

Again, the baby was monitored for half an hour, a pessary was inserted, and I was monitored for another hour. There was some good news though! When the midwife checked my cervix before giving the prostaglandins, she explained that because my cervix was almost completely effaced and I was having small contractions, she didn’t expect that I would need a third dose! Fantastic!

Effacement isn’t really something we often hear about when discussing labour, or when it’s portrayed in tv/film – we hear about dilation and that’s it, but actually a significant portion of that early labour, the part that seems never-ending, is spent with the cervix effacing. Usually, the cervix is a long tube which points down in the top of the vagina. During the early stage of labour, the contractions are forcing the cervix to flatten, or 'efface'. Only once the cervix is fully effaced can dilation begin. This is why the early stage can seem so disappointing – to have been in labour for hours and hours, to be told you’re only 1cm dilated?! It’s just important to remember that in that time, those contractions have turned your cervix from a 2cm long tube, to being completely flat!

My cervix was checked again at around 10 o'clock in the morning.

1 cm dilated!

How exciting!

When being induced, if you need a third pessary, this takes place 24 hours after the first hormones were given, meaning I was preparing myself to wait until 9:30 on the Saturday evening.
A second midwife agreed that I would probably not need a third pessary, but she explained that the final call on that wouldn’t be made until much closer to the time, so she wanted me to make sure that my progress didn’t stall. I was encouraged to walk up and down the stairs in the maternity building, go to the shop in the main hospital building, and take a warm bath.

Knowing that no more intervention would be taking place until late into the evening, I sent my husband home to have a shower and get some sleep. We’re lucky at our hospital that they do allow a partner to stay overnight, but they don’t provide much in the way of comfort. My husband (who has Chronic Fatigue Syndrome), had spent Friday night sleeping on the floor and was not allowed to take a shower on the ward.

He didn’t want to leave me, but understood that during this part of the induction, I didn’t need him as much as I would while in full blown labour. I needed him to be in tip-top condition, and that meant a shower and sleep! So off he went.

My Mother-in-Law stayed with me, and after a while timing my contractions while I bounced on a maternity ball, we took a slow shuffle to the shop to buy an ice cream (yes, she also shuffled – if you’d seen her recent ankle injury, you’d understand).

50 second contractions, 5 minutes apart. Still not close enough. I was starting to think I’d be having that third pessary after all!

On the way back to my room, we ran into my husband arriving back at the hospital. We returned to the room, to find a Midwife knocking at the door.

I introduced myself.

“Ready to come downstairs to labour suite then?” Was all she said.

I responded, rather foolishly, “What, now?”

“Well that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” The Midwife replied.

Yes. Yes it was! She gave us a few minutes to gather all our things and then we were off! To labour suite! To have our baby!

Here. We. Go!

What an exciting and exhausting few weeks we’ve had!

15 days before his due date, at 5:30am on the 6^th May, our Henry made his entrance into the world, weighing in at a healthy 7lb 12oz (3.52kg, for you strange people who use metric to measure babies).

So let’s go back to the beginning.

(And by the beginning, I mean last year).

4^th May 2017 – I spent the day in hospital, had my laparoscopy and we found out that we needed IVF to have a baby.

Fast-forward to 3^rd May 2018.

It was a Thursday, and was both the Local Council Elections and a Parents’ Evening at my husband’s school (NOT for a year group he teaches, thank goodness). On Parents’ Evening days, his school finishes slightly early and any staff who don’t have appointments are encourage to go home straight away, so he made it home around 3pm and we immediately drove to the local church to vote. Once we’d finished there, he suggested going home via the shop so that we could get an ice cream – music to a heavily pregnant lady’s ears when it’s so hot outside!

On the drive to the shops, it’s lucky no police cars were around because we’d definitely have been pulled over for my husband to be breathalysed! Swerving the car all over the road and hitting every. Single. Pothole.

“I’m trying to jiggle the baby out of you!” he responded when I asked what on earth he was doing.

Fair enough.

Anyway, we bought our ice creams and drove (swerved/bounced) home. Standing outside the front door as my husband unlocked it, my waters broke.

You mean it WORKED?!    

        

Side note – had I tried to work up to my original maternity leave date, I’d have been dismissing the children on the playground at the end of the day when my waters broke. Thank heavens I took maternity leave early because THAT would have been a story that never got forgotten at school!

Now let me warn you – these next few posts are going to go into specifics about labour and childbirth, so if you’re squeamish about it, or just don’t particularly want to read those details about someone you know, I’d stop reading now!

Ok?

Sure?

Righty-ho, here we go!

I honestly don’t know how some people say that they weren’t sure if their waters had gone or if they’d wet themselves because for me, the feeling was so alien that there was no way I could confuse the two! Maybe that isn’t how it feels for some people but for me, there was no mistaking what had happened.

Still, I said nothing about it to my husband, just mumbled something about needing the toilet, and escaped to the downstairs loo.

More waters. And more.

By the way, for any pregnant women reading this – they don’t warn you quite how much amniotic fluid there is. It’s a lot. Just… a lot. Buy all the maternity pads. Seriously, all of them.

Once I was sure that I wasn’t imagining it, I told my husband, “So… we may have a Star Wars baby yet!” (May the 4^th be with you, for anyone who has been living under a rock).

I then ran back to the toilet because yet more waters made an appearance.

(I told you – a lot! Pads. Get them).

So the next job was to call the hospital but for some reason, I felt really silly doing it! I shouldn’t have – waters breaking is a perfectly legitimate reason to call the maternity assessment unit – but I did.

They asked me to put a fresh pad on, wait for an hour and then come to the assessment unit, bringing that pad with me so that they could check it was my waters and not urine. So that’s what we did.

We arrived at the hospital around 5:30 and I was taken to labour suite to be assessed, as the assessment unit hands over to labour suite at 6, so they figured they may as well send me straight there. They confirmed pretty quickly that it was indeed my waters breaking, and hooked me up to a monitor so they could see a) how baby was doing and b) whether I was contracting yet.

Hint: I wasn’t.

Medically, this is called PROM (Pre-labour Rupture of Membranes), which is when the amniotic sac breaks more than 1 hour before the onset of actual labour.

The pad with the blue strap is measuring our baby's heart and the pad with the pink strap is measuring my contractions.

I did have to stay in for a few hours (about 4 in the end) because the baby’s heartbeat was a little bit too high for the midwives to be completely happy, but eventually he settled down. I was sent home with the instruction to return to the hospital the next day (the 4^th May) at 4pm to be induced.

Blimey.

Logically, I knew that would be the next step if my contractions didn’t begin on their own overnight, because they can’t leave the baby out of the protection of the amniotic sac for very long, but still, eeep!

I asked the midwife what I needed to bring with me for the induction and she replied, “Everything. Once you come in tomorrow, you won’t be leaving until you’ve had the baby.” Double blimey.

Off I went home, hoping of course that my contractions would start overnight, would increase relatively quickly, and I’d be able to go into hospital the next morning, avoid induction and just pop a baby out.

No such luck, of course!

I did have twinges of pain throughout the night, and I found it very difficult to sleep because of the heat, the twinges and the fact that every time I moved, yet more waters came out. So I spent a good portion of the night sitting on towels and plastic bags on the sofa, making lists of housework to do throughout the Friday before I was due at the hospital.

To be honest, the only thing that stopped me actually doing those jobs overnight was the fact that I was too scared to move, lest I ruin the furniture or the floor with more leaking waters!

We spent Friday morning and early afternoon doing housework, making sure that when we returned from the hospital, we wouldn’t be greeted by a house that was stressful.

That afternoon, which was exactly one year to the day from when we found out we would need IVF to have a baby, we went into hospital to have our IVF baby induced. There’s some kind of poetry in that, I feel.

Fertility Representation in Television

I’m going to begin today’s blog post by giving you a bit of a disclaimer in the form of some details about myself (sorry, those of you who actually know me and therefore know all of this anyway).

I am a straight, white, married woman in her late 20s, who owns her own home, and works in a professional career. I have an epileptic dog, I own a car, I’m a member of the National Trust, I’m a Labour voter (sorry Lib Dems - once bitten, twice shy, and all that).

Clearly, I have no need to be complaining about representation of people who remind me of myself in the media – plenty of straight, white women with careers and houses in film and tv! Once you dig a bit deeper into my life though, there is one area where I do not believe that people ‘like me’ are represented very well at all, and that is fertility.

As anyone who has read this blog from the beginning will know, I’m classed as ‘subfertile’, meaning that it is possible for me to conceive and carry a child, but only through medical intervention and assistance. Put another way, had I been trying to have a baby 50 years ago, it would never have happened!

Going through this fertility rollercoaster of the past almost 2 years (which I know is relatively short compared to the struggles gone through by some couples), has made my hyper-aware of how conception, pregnancy and fertility are portrayed on television.

I plan to talk about storylines from tv shows both older and recent, and while I’m sure most will know of these storylines, I’m aware that some people could be watching an older tv show (by this I mean something that is off the air now) for the first time through and not want to be spoiled!

Disclaimer 2: I am by no means claiming to be an authority on fertility storylines in the media and I know there will probably be shows that have dealt with it well, that I have never seen. This is purely a commentary of how I have been made to feel through the way fertility has been portrayed in shows that I have watched.

SPOILERS AND SPECULATION AHEAD! Do not read on if you are bothered about discussion of storylines in:

Game of Thrones

Gilmore Girls/Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life

Call the Midwife

Friends

Jane the Virgin

Star Trek Deep Space Nine

Ok…

You were warned…

Oddly enough, the storyline that initially sparked this blog post has not actually happened yet. At this point, it’s pure speculation!

So why, I hear you ask yourself, am I including something that might not even happen?

Simply put, having seen the show and the oh-so-unsubtle foreshadowing (about as subtle as a glowing neon billboard) I’m about 99% convinced that this storyline is going to happen. If it doesn’t, then I will be more than happy to take back everything I am about to say about this particular show and story.

I am talking, of course, about Game of Thrones and the latest developments with Daenerys and Jon Snow. When last we left our incestuous duo, they were consummating their new relationship, blissfully unaware of the fact that they are in fact, aunt and nephew.

Wonderful.

Anyway, leaving aside any familial connection that makes this relationship extra squicky, the issue that I’m having is the fan speculation that their union will result in a baby. Numerous mentions have been made in the latest season about Daenerys’ need of an heir, and questions (from Jon Snow) about whether she actually has any proof she is unable to have children.

All this has led the fans to (I suspect rightly) predict that Daenerys will end up pregnant. Whether the explanation will be that she was never infertile and just previously unlucky, or that it is some kind of magic where only Jon will be able to give her a child, is anyone’s guess.

I just can’t help feeling betrayed. Daenerys has never been my favourite character, but since beginning our fertility journey, I have been fiercely proud of the way that the character has handled her infertility over the seasons of the show. Speaking as someone who’s biggest fear has been infertility since before I can remember, it gave me strength to see a strong woman being unashamed of the fact she cannot have children. She didn’t let it change her plans, she was upfront with people about it.

Now, that could all be undone.

I know that it could be argued that storylines where someone has struggled for a baby and then finally gets one, could give people hope. The problem is that this simply isn’t realistic.

(Yes, talking about realism whilst discussing a show that has dragons…)

Television is awash with storylines of unwanted, unexpected and inconvenient pregnancies, but the reality is that there are some women, some couples out there who are desperate for a child and WILL NEVER HAVE ONE. The simple truth is that despite how far science has come, medical intervention in conception fails more than it succeeds.

My husband and I have been incredibly – outstandingly – lucky. Our IVF has worked. For many people though, this is not going to be their story.

For people who are facing the prospect of never being able to have children, while stories that give hope can be wonderful and so appreciated in a time of emotional struggle, what is also needed, I believe, are stories that show that it actually isn’t going to be the end of the world if it doesn’t happen. Stories that show how hard it can be to come to terms with being childless, but where ultimately the characters are able to accept it and get through it, moving on with their lives. It could be that they accept never being parents, it could be that they choose another route, such as surrogacy or adoption. Either way, it is the kind of storyline that can resonate with couples facing infertility.

A television show that did this particularly well, on more than one occasion, is Friends. I have many problems with Friends – I think a lot of the jokes have not aged very well at all (fat shaming, slut shaming, mocking men for femininity, to name but a few) but I can honestly say that when thinking about shows that dealt with fertility issues in a confident, sympathetic and meaningful way, this was at the top of my list. And my sister’s list. And any friends I asked.

The first occasion on Friends was when Phoebe’s brother, Frank Jr, and his wife Alice are unable to have children naturally. Due to Alice’s age, although the eggs would be hers, she would not be able to carry the child, so Phoebe steps in as a surrogate.

This storyline was introduced because Lisa Kudrow had just announced that she was pregnant, and initially the writers and producers were unsure how to include her pregnancy. They thought that it might be derided by fans as a ridiculous idea and “too wacky even for Phoebe.”

On the contrary, this storyline was sympathetic to the characters, incredibly emotional, and absolutely the kind of selfless thing that Phoebe would do.

The time when she discovers how much the procedure is costing Frank and Alice, and the low success rate of 25%, is beautiful in the shock and emotion of the moment. For IVF patients, high costs and low chances of success are something we have all had to deal with, so those two considerations actually being addressed and discussed is significant.

The second fertility issue in Friends is of course, Monica and Chandler’s struggle for a baby. At the end of season 8, in the episode where Rachel gives birth to Emma, Monica and Chandler decide they would like to start trying for a baby.

Like many real-life couples, they begin with high hopes and the assumption that it will happen soon (after all – Emma was the result of a one night stand). And like so many real-life couples, it soon becomes apparent that their journey towards parenthood is not going to be easy.

Monica is a character that has always wanted to be a parent and I think this is an important point to note. She didn’t suddenly decide she wanted a baby just so they could include the infertility storyline – she had always wanted children, throughout the entire show. Like so many women out there, she was desperate for a child and it had never crossed her mind that she wouldn’t get that!

It would have been very easy for the showrunners to give Monica and Chandler a miracle pregnancy once Courtney Cox fell pregnant but I am SO glad they didn’t. Miracle pregnancies are rare when people have such severe fertility issues.

They stuck to their storyline and continued with the adoption, choosing instead to hide the actress’ pregnancy.

Monica (played by a pregnant Courtney Cox) and Chandler at the birth of their babies.

Well done. Honestly, well done.

On the other hand, a show that I would have expected to deal well with fertility issues is Call the Midwife. Generally, I have found their handling of sensitive issues to be incredibly sympathetic and caring, and although the storyline of Shelagh’s fertility begins well, it ends with a case of miracle pregnancy.

In season 2 of Call the Midwife, Shelagh (then called Sister Bernadette) discovers that she has tuberculosis, but recovers well from this and leaves her life as a nun to marry Dr Turner. In season 3, when Dr Turner and Shelagh begin to try for a baby, there is a heartbreaking episode when Shelagh believes that she has fallen pregnant, only to later find out that she isn’t. Unfortunately, the tuberculosis had damaged her fallopian tubes, meaning she would not be able to fall pregnant.

Eventually, in a wonderfully written and acted storyline, the couple accept that they will not be able to have a biological child of their own, so adopt a daughter. This process is not easy for them, and the acceptance of baby Angela as part of their family is lovely. It would have been the perfect ending to an at-times harrowing, but ultimately heart-warming story of overcoming fertility problems.

The moment at the orphanage when Shelagh and Dr Turner meet their daughter, Angela, for the first time. I cried. Lots.

Then Shelagh fell pregnant naturally and, after an admittedly difficult pregnancy, gave birth to a healthy baby boy.

Yes, it’s the ending that many couples struggling to conceive may hope will be theirs, but when you have damaged fallopian tubes, a natural pregnancy with no medical intervention is so unlikely. Maybe I’m oversensitive to this, but given how well the show has depicted so many other issues, I find it disappointing that the showrunners would go down the route of the miracle pregnancy.

To be clear, I don’t have any problem with a television couple who have struggled to conceive, being able to eventually have a child. I just wish that there were fewer cases of the miracle pregnancy and more of the realistic ‘needed-medical-intervention-to-get-there’ pregnancies.

I could honestly go on and on about the different ways tv has handled fertility, but to avoid repeating points across different shows, I’ll be brief.

Handled well:

Friends – As discussed above.

Star Trek Deep Space Nine – In later seasons, Dax and Worf decide they would like to try for a baby, but their physiology (being from two alien species) means it is likely to be extremely difficult to conceive a viable pregnancy. They enlist the help of the Doctor, who researches and runs tests, before believing he’s found something that might help them. Unfortunately we never get to see the result of this due to SPOILERS but I think the storyline was sensitively done up to that point.

Started well but (potentially) disappointing:

Game of Thrones – As discussed above.

Call the Midwife – As discussed above.

Handled badly:

Jane the Virgin – At the start of Jane the Virgin, a drunk doctor mixes up Jane, who is there for a smear test and Petra, who is at the doctor to be inseminated with her husband’s frozen sperm (he previously had cancer and had sperm frozen before his treatment). Jane is accidentally inseminated and of course, falls pregnant. I understand that for the whole show to work, this had to be the storyline, and soon the writers make sure we know that Petra is not a good person and her relationship with her husband is on the rocks, but honestly, that doesn’t make this any better. A young couple’s only chance of having children together due to his now infertility is squandered because a drunk doctor accidentally inseminates someone else with the sperm. I’m not even going to explain why that makes me angry. It should be obvious.

Gilmore Girls– One of my favourite tv shows, so it pains me to put is in this category, but unfortunately the one thing it really doesn’t do well are fertility problems. After Sookie gives birth to her second child, she sends her husband, Jackson, to have a vasectomy so that they cannot have any more children. Problem 1: She does this against his wishes. Problem 2: He doesn’t go through with it but tells her that he did. Problem 3: She believes he is now infertile so comes off the pill without bothering to tell him. Result: Another baby. I do consider this to be a fertility issue, as one half of a couple believes the other to be infertile and as such doesn’t take the necessary precautions. As much as I can see the comedy value in her husband realising she’s pregnant before she does because he’s the only one who knows it’s possible, it really disappointed me that the show went in this direction, because honest and open communication is so important, especially about reproductive issues!

Gilmore Girls: A Year In The Life – At the start of these 4 episodes, we learn that Lorelai and Luke are considering surrogacy to enable them to have a child together. I initially liked this idea, because the age of the characters would mean that it would be unrealistic for them to have a child naturally. Unfortunately, I felt that the way the storyline was handled was incredible insensitive. Luke suddenly became stupid, unable to understand the process and didn’t seem to be taking the whole thing seriously at all. Lorelai suddenly became emotionally detached from it. I didn’t get the impression that they were a team about it, or really knew what they would be letting themselves in for, and this is such a shame because they’re a wonderful couple who were supposed to have worked through those communication issues in the original series. Infertility, whether due to the kind of medical issues I have, or age like Lorelai, is something that needs to be taken seriously by the people involved and treatment CANNOT be undertaken if communication between partners is not clear. I suppose I just felt like this storyline was being used for the laughs at Luke’s repeated belief he had to sleep with the surrogate.

Well this has been a very long post and I suspect I lost some of you along the way so if you did make it to this point – congratulations!

I know that representation of fertility issues is not hot on the agenda of tv showrunners at the moment and there are a lot bigger representation problems to be solved, but I do think that it doesn’t take very much to highlight the issues in a sensitive way. Deep Space Nine made very little of the story, but did it well. Friends made it into larger storylines, but did so in a way that kept the comedy and entertainment without cheapening the issue of infertility. 

It can be done. 

Going through fertility problems is stressful, exhausting and lonely. Sometimes just one character or story that you can relate to can bring so much comfort. I don’t think it’s too much to ask that television writers consider that when they think of these storylines. 

Symptoms, scans and something-of-a-bump!

So a lot has happened in the past few weeks!

Being discharged from the fertility clinic was actually quite scary. Despite how daunting it can be going through fertility treatment, the staff at the clinic always made sure that the next steps were clearly explained, we knew who to call if we had questions or worries, and the familiar faces that we saw each time were a comfort.

Starting out somewhere new is scary! No matter how much I’d read online about what to expect from appointments, it’s been a massive source of anxiety for me.

What would my midwife be like? Would I be lectured for my weight? Would staff know much about the IVF process we’d been through?

First answer – my midwife seems lovely. She’s a tiny lady from Yorkshire, is nearing retirement and only works 2 days a week. Only issue was that she calculated my due date incorrectly, but this has since been sorted out so I’m not worried.

Second answer – neither my midwife, nor the doctor I saw at the hospital seem concerned about my weight. The doctor’s exact words were “honestly, you’re not that big!”

Third answer – still to be determined how much people know about IVF, but thankfully so far, they all seem to be taking my word for it when I’ve given them the information, and everyone is very excited when they realise that this is our first cycle.

In terms of symptoms, I’ve actually had a fairly easy time of it so far this pregnancy. The most overwhelming thing has been the tiredness.

Bone-deep, utter exhaustion.

I don’t know how to explain the extent of the tiredness to someone who’s never experienced it! I suppose the closest comparison is the complete lack of energy and inability to move that you get when you have the flu.

Nausea has been my constant companion for about 5 weeks now, but I’ve only actually been sick 3 times, so it could have been a lot worse!

Sore boobs? Ceaseless!

Appetite? Totally gone for a while but slowly starting to return now.

Like I say, it’s actually been relatively easy for me, aside from the tiredness.

This all, of course, leads me to yesterday. Yesterday, I had my “12 week” scan (yes, I know I’m actually 13 weeks – give me a chance!).

For those who don’t know, what is colloquially called the 12 week scan can actually take place anywhere between 11 and 14 weeks. Its purpose is to check that the baby is developing properly, determine a due date, and to screen for conditions such as Down’s Syndrome.

For me, the due date was pretty much a formality because there can be no confusion or uncertainty around when the egg was fertilised – we even have laboratory evidence to prove the date! Still, it was reassuring when the sonographer said that she’d put me at 13 weeks and 1 day, which fits perfectly with the IVF dates.

Nothing could have prepared me for that scan.

I figured it wouldn’t be that emotional, given that I’d already had a scan at 7 weeks.

Oooh boy, was I wrong!

First emotion – relief when I saw the baby was still there!

Second emotion – anxiety until I noticed the little flickery heart.

My baby!

Third emotion – there is no word in English for how it felt when the baby suddenly started moving around. Absolutely incredible, magical… these, and other clichés, are the only way I can explain it but they don’t even come close.

I could have watched it wriggling around all day.

Fourth emotion – excitement. Obvious, I know, but feeling that made me realise something.

Until this point, as happy and relieved as I’ve been, I haven’t actually been letting myself feel excited about this baby. Possibly because it’s been through IVF, I’ve been unable to relax and let myself believe it’s actually happening.

I haven’t had any cramps, spotting, or other terrifying symptoms, so logically I knew that the baby was still there, but I’ve heard so many horror stories of getting to the 12 week scan and there being no heartbeat, that I had almost convinced myself that’s what would happen to us.

“Can we buy things for it yet?”

“No”

“Can we tell people yet?”

“No”

“Do you want to go and look at baby clothes when we go shopping?”

“No”

No matter who asked me (all those questions have come from multiple sources), my answer was always no. I desperately wanted to be excited and buy things. I wanted to look at baby things. I wanted to be able to tell everyone.

All I could think was that if we did tell more people, that would simply be more people to tell if we got to the scan and things had gone horribly wrong.

Thankfully, I have a wonderful and understanding family, who completely understood why I was determined to wait until after the scan!

After living with those feelings for a few weeks, they had become totally normal and I barely even noticed that I was having them, so it was a bit of a revelation to realise just how little I’d been allowing myself to enjoy the pregnancy so far!

Well no longer!

Now, I’m buzzing! I’m telling everyone! I can’t stop staring at our scan photos!

Tiny nose, long legs, absolutely beautiful already 💖

Little bit, slightly, somewhat of a bump, there!

I finally feel pregnant and actually… I’m starting to look it!

First scan

9 + 3

That’s officially me!

(Ooh accidental rhyme).

It’s a little late but things have been rather exhausting for the last few weeks – on Wednesday 2 weeks ago (4^th October), I was officially discharged from the fertility clinic and am now 9 weeks and 3 days pregnant!

For most natural pregnancies, the first scan takes place at 12 weeks but as this has been through IVF, the clinic had to do a scan at 7 weeks. This is for a number of reasons, including the need to confirm that a bun is indeed in the oven, how many buns, and whether it has implanted in the correct place.

If all is well, you’re discharged into the main maternity system.

So, all is well with me!

On that Wednesday, I saw my baby for the first time. It’s really there! All tiny and implanted in the right place, with a tiny flickering heart!

There it is! The black area is the amniotic sac and inside that, is the little bean-shaped, curled up baby!

Honestly, it felt so incredible and surreal that I still can’t quite believe it really happened.

I think the strangest moment was when the nurse called it ‘the baby’ rather than ‘the embryo’. All along, everything has been about the eggs, then embryos – this was the first time that one of the healthcare professionals has actually called it a baby.

Wow.

We’re having a baby!

Transfer Day!

My biggest worry leading into today’s Embryo Transfer was that we’d turn up and they’d say that none of the embryos had survived this far so we’d have to cancel the cycle.

We have 3 survivors! All 3 of the embryos survived till today and were still developing under the embryoscope while we waited for the transfer this morning. What an incredible relief that was!

When we arrived this morning, I was shown to the same bed as I’d been in for my egg collection and was told that the embryologists were just checking on our embryos. As all 3 survived, they chose the embryo that had progressed furthest to transfer, intending to freeze the other 2 after they had developed for a few more hours.

The procedure itself was relatively quick and just as undignified as every other part of IVF! You certainly can’t be embarrassed and modest when you’re going through it, or you’d never even get through a scan!

The first step was for the nurse to scan me, to check on the lining of my womb and see whether or not it is ready for potential implantation (eee!).

“Well, your womb lining is beautiful!”

Sentences you never expected to hear.

 An endometrial lining is considered thin if it less than 7mm, and according to my clinic they would like it to measure at least 10mm at this stage of the process. Mine is 13mm!

You know, for all it has been horrible struggling to have a baby, going through the investigations, operation, finding out about my fallopian tubes, and then the IVF itself, my body seems to be actually doing something right, finally!

Not only did 3 eggs fertilise ‘well’, all 3 embryos have made it to day 5 and my womb lining is well above the minimum recommended thickness.

Think I’m quite good at this IVF lark!

Once they’d checked all this, it was time for the transfer itself. While I was being distracted by another nurse and my wonderful husband, the nurse had inserted a catheter directly into my womb. It wasn’t painful but – I won’t lie – it was certainly uncomfortable and I had the definite feeling that if I moved even a centimetre, it would hurt!

Keeping still was not made easy by my husband.

Note: being married to someone whose coping mechanism for being nervous is to crack jokes, is amazing in most circumstances but not while you’re having an embryo transferred! Every time he made me laugh, it hurt!

Multiple identity checks later, our embryologist handed something to the nurse, who moved the catheter slightly, then popped her head over my knees and said “All done!”

That was is it!

I didn’t have much longer to wait and was able to come home, with strict orders to put my feet up and enjoy the next few weeks.

It isn’t going to be easy – I’m going to have to exercise all my will to not symptom spot, and will have to remember to actually relax and let my body do its job.

Relaxation has never been my forte - doesn’t really go well with my skin tone.  

I suppose what I need to remember is that right now, I’m the most pregnant I’ve ever been! No matter whether this works or not, we are much further along than before and that is something worth celebrating.

No I didn't get to see the embryos in a dish but yes this would totally have been me...

So… please stick, little blob! Today could be the day that our lives change forever - you just have to cling on!

Blob-blog

We officially have blobs! Credit to my sister for naming this the Blob-Blog!

Well, what a busy few days!

When last we spoke, I asked for pom-poms and well wishes for the eggs. It seems that it worked – thanks guys!

Had another scan on Friday, where the nurse could see 5 good sized follicles and 2 that were just below the right size, which she expected would make it to the right size over the weekend. I had to take my last lot of medication on the Saturday morning and then the ‘trigger shot’ of HCG at 8:30 on Saturday evening.

As part of a natural cycle, a woman’s body releases HCG to tell the ovaries to release the egg, which it does about 38-42 hours later. In IVF, the shot of HCG is taken 36 hours before the egg collection, because it means the follicles are ready to release the eggs but haven’t yet done so (or they would have disappeared into the depths of the fallopian tubes and become lost forever – SO DRAMATIC!).

Saturday was interesting, really. So far for IVF, I’ve been taking the medication in the evening, so that any side effects would happen overnight rather than potentially ruining my day. I’ve been feeling generally a lot more tired on the medication anyway, so I was completely unprepared for how sudden and intense the tiredness would be when I had to take the medication in the morning on Saturday!

Within about 15 minutes, I’d gone from wide awake and enthusiastic about my day of housework (I know, weird, don’t judge me) to being unable to do anything except sleep on the sofa for 2 hours. Obviously, I really hope that this cycle of IVF is successful but if it isn’t and we need another, I’ll definitely be doing the injections in the evening again. Certainly wouldn’t be able to function at work, if they were done in the morning.

I then had a totally medication free day! Yay for Sunday! No more pincushions for legs! Also meant I got to enjoy this bad boy:

Cherry-scented bath bomb, a pressie from my husband's lovely parents.

After egg collection, they like you not to have baths due to the risk of infection if you’re submerged in water. After embryo transfer, it’s DEFINITELY not advised, because embryos are unable to regulate their temperature and it could result in the pregnancy not taking. So I was determined to enjoy what could be my last hot bath for months!

It. Was. Glorious.

On Monday morning, we arrived at the clinic at 7:30 and sat outside until it opened, because we’d sliiiightly overestimated the amount of time it would take us to park. To be fair, anyone who has ever had to park at the hospital where our clinic is based would totally understand why we left early. Of course, being that Monday was a Bank Holiday, there wasn’t as much going on at the hospital as there normally is!

It seems like a lifetime ago that we had our bad experience at the hospital, when we found out about my blocked fallopian tubes, but this was definitely in the back of my mind as I was taken through to the ward/recovery area of the clinic.

I am happy to report, however, that the experience couldn’t have been more different! I don’t know if this is because I was actually in the clinic this time, rather than having surgery in the main hospital, but it was a really supportive few hours this time.

I filled in some forms, signed another consent form, spoke about my allergy to Penicillin, changed into my butt-gown (thanks again for the name, sister. Are you sure you’re an adult?) and took some antibiotics. The man who would be performing the egg collection came to speak to me and was really reassuring. Turns out we actually got the consultant who is in charge of the whole clinic and is at the cutting edge of the current IVF research, so we couldn’t have asked for better!

While I was waiting to go to theatre, my husband went to give his sample and was back before I went in. Selfish of me but I’m glad he was back by the time I went to theatre.

I was taken to theatre around 8:45, and within 5 minutes was having the sedation administered. When I had the general anaesthetic for my surgery in May, apparently I fought the sleepiness, but this time with the sedation, I tried to just let it happen and actually, as someone who has felt so tired recently, it was quite comfortable drifting off to sleep!

I woke up in the recovery ward at 9:15, was given biscuits and many cups of water, then the nurse popped her head in to tell me that they’d collected 5 eggs. I know that isn’t a huge number, but I had been expecting the worst, for them to have got none, so it was a huge relief!

It took me a bit of time to get my sea-legs back after the sedation, and I had to eat and go to the toilet before they’d let me home, but we were on the way home by 10:30, with instructions to wait for a phone call on Tuesday morning, when we would be told how many eggs had fertilised overnight and would arrange for me to come in for the embryo transfer.

Fast-forward a relaxing rest of Monday, to Tuesday morning. Glued to my phone, jumping every time it made a sound. I really needed to get on with some work but I wasn’t in the right frame of mind at all!

Eventually, the nurse rang us and explained that we have 3 embryos that ‘fertilised well’ and seemed strong. They want me to go for the 5-day transfer, which means Saturday, so they must have some confidence that these embryos will make it to 5 days!

So there you have it, 3 little blobs made of me and my husband, just happily sitting in the incubator, doing their cell division. Waiting for Saturday morning, when one will be transferred back to me.

I know that I need to stay both positive and realistic, so am not getting my hopes too far up, but right now I don’t feel nervous anymore – I’m just excited.

The big hurdle with my fertility is that blocked tubes mean the sperm and egg would never meet. Now, they have done. We have 3 embryos to prove it. We’ve actually overcome the biggest of our problems conceiving so it’s up to nature to take care of the rest once the embryo is transferred.