Item – Since the momentous day I decided not to renew my Pill prescription, four years ago now (four! Four years! For fuck’s sake!), and start a determined assault on Castle Baby, I have had twelve ovulatory cycles. Twelve in four years. Pfft. However, of those twelve cycles, two (with an option on possibly three) ended in pregnancy – I use the word ended with all possible irony. Even I have to admit two (three) out of twelve is really not bad. It’s ‘statistically normal’, or possibly even slightly better than ‘statistically normal’. I win.
Item – I was so worried about the state of the One And Only Fallopian Tube. I have had two HSGs, and both times the radiologist mentioned it looked, well, borked, and both times Miss Consultant thought it looked OK, and I would wind myself into a frenzy about it. I think, now, with two intrauterine pregnancies (or, fuck-ups, as I prefer to call them when I’m in this mood), we can be sure the damn thing is not blocked. It may be leaking unspeakable fluids of toxic death into my uterus from the possible mild hydrosalpinx the radiologist kept seeing, but it’s not blocked or so damaged it stops eggs wafting along it in a timely fashion. So, I win.
Item – My mother came over for dinner last night. It was good. She seems to get it now. She did bring up the whole ‘so excited you can get pregnant!’ thing, but she followed it up by saying ‘because, after last time, I was so worried you wouldn’t be able to again.’ And looked sad. And my heart melted. I won that one, in the end, but sheesh, be careful what you wish for, you might just get it. (And apparantly, when Mum told Diva about the miscarriage, Diva cried. Oh God).
Item – I thought of another possible diagnosis that would explain both the miscarriages and the fact I bleed like stink during periods and bled so very, very ludicrously much for a less-than-five-weeks-gone loss. Von Willebrand’s disease, or a similar clotting factor deficiency. About one in a hundred women have it. It is hereditable, from one or both parents, and the mild version is sometimes not even noticed at all in men (though my Dad has a tendency to turn a small kitchen accident into a flailing blood-spraying-up-the-walls melodrama. Maybe he’s not actually being melodramatic? For once?). In women, it causes really, really heavy periods and pain on ovulation (from internal bleeding). And possibly an increased risk of early miscarriage. Of course, the GP ordered the blood tests for a clotting disorder, not a bleeding one. I was thinking about this, nodding along with the GP’s thinking, and I announced firmly to H that it’s not like I bruise easily or get nosebleeds much, and he looked at me as if I had suddenly declared I was a turquoise stoat and pointed out I do bruise easily and I get a damn nose-bleed every time I get a damn cold (only, they tend to come on at night and end up in my throat rather than down my face. Umm. That was disgusting, wasn’t it?). So I thought, indeed, why a clotting disorder? I am positively lavish with my blood. I catch a hang-nail and it bleeds for fifteen fucking minutes. Should we perhaps be looking in the opposite direction? What do you people think? Is this a win for self-diagnosis and Dr Google, or a fail for vapouring?
Item – At this very moment I am only being tested for the clotting disorders mentioned before. I’ve had my thyroid tested (twice) in the past, and both times it came back normal. My mother, however, who does have real official thyroid problems, got a little hacked off about this and pointed out there were several different things that needed to be tested to determine thyroid function, and they only found her issue by testing all of them, as the standard test comes back normal for her and frankly, her thyroid is visible across the sodding room. So I think I need a proper thyroid screen, clotting tests, bleeding tests, karyotyping for the both of us, FSH and LH tests, testosterone and SHBG tests, progesterone, estrogen, anything I’ve missed out? I shall have to print out a list and take it with me to the clinic. And this is a win, you know, because thanks to the wonders of blogging, I have internet friends who can tell me I need these tests. I have advocates.
Item – I’ve lost a few more pounds this week. I am thinner than I was when we married. I am thinner than I have been for seven or eight years. I am within a few pounds of BMI 29, and the green light to go ahead with IVF (this being a whole ‘nother post, you understand). It’s a fucker of a way to lose weight, though. Bit of a pyrrhic victory.
Item – I am watching movies and eating chocolate in my pyjamas, on a Thursday afternoon. This is totally a win.