Nothing bad has happened yet

We’re still here. May, H, and the putatively rapidly-increasing-to-orange-pip-size embryo (you had better be increasing to orange pip, young lady/man. Or there will be tears (mine, obviously. I don’t think you get around to lachrymal glands for weeks and weeks)).

I took the official, digital, expensive HPT on Friday morning. It briskly came up with ‘pregnant, 1-2 weeks’ (meaning since conception). So there you go. I then left a message for the IVF nurses at Riverside and went on my merry way to work.

(Holy crap. I’m pregnant).

The IVF nurses and I played a few rounds of telephone tag (there’s no phone signal in my office. Hurrah) before I managed to nail one of them down in the office.

‘So, you’re reporting a positive pregnancy test? Let me find your notes… Oh! I see we transferred an absolutely perfect, beautiful embryo! Well done! And a positive pregnancy test this morning! Congratulations!’

‘Thank you,’ I said blushing ferociously, halfway up an alley next to a building-site.

‘So, six week scan, let me see, how does August 15th sound? It’s more like six weeks and a bit…’

‘*sotto voceOr damn near seven weeks*’

‘Byeeee! Good luck! Keep taking the medications! Call us if you have any questions! Good luck! Perfect embryo!’

These last at a bellow because the cement-mixer had just started up.

H and I are perfectly reasonable specimens, but perfect? We made something perfect? Well, we did (6AA, 42 chromomes in neat pairs) but how?

On my way home from work, I stopped at Riverside’s pharmacy to collect the last of my prescription for Clexane and Cyclogest. I’d wimped out of having more than 14 days’ worth of both in the house in case I got a negative and had to sit there and stare at the boxes while weaning myself off steroids and bleeding that perfect embryo out in a tsunami of gore. But even with the rest of the prescription safely gathered in, I don’t have enough to last next week. The plan is, on Monday, to go to the GP and get them all transferred to NHS prescriptions. And if there’s any delay or issue with that, we’ll have time to get a renewal from Dr George and, oh, I don’t know, sell a kidney or something.

We also need to arrange for my second Intralipid infusion, which is also supposed to happen at around week six.

I am going to be discommoding work repeatedly for weeks, aren’t I? First person to say ‘Pregnancy is not an illness!’ gets karate-chopped in the throat.

Speaking of which, symptoms! Feel free to skip!

  • Breasts – sensitive and bullet-nippled for the first week or so I spent on progesterone. And then they got bored and dozed off. And that is where they remain. Underwhelmed. Noncommittal.
  • Nausea – nope. Not since the brief brush with OHSS. I do feel vaguely averse to raw egg-whites and mayonnaise, and chocolate seems pointless and tastes funny.
  • Metal-mouth – Yes! Plain water tastes awful, so this pregnancy continues to be sponsored by Gatorade (H bought gallons of the stuff in case the OHSS settled in for a while).
  • Cramps – intermittent, worse in the evenings or after a walk. I am doing my best to ignore them. You hear that, Cute Ute? I am ignoring you, you whiny bitch. And leave that embryo in peace. It’s supposed to be digging a hole right into your lining. Satsuma, meanwhile, lets off occasional twinges and dull achery, because why the fuck not? She never normally bitches during the luteal phase, but I think she is still sulking about the 18+ follicles and being shoved hard towards a two-foot needle.
  • Headache – slight, persistent, possibly due to sleep deprivation. Progesterone normally makes me sleepy. Well, my own progesterone does. This ersatz stuff in cooter bullets clearly substandard.
  • Belly – absolutely covered in bruises, from pin-head scarlet blood-blisters to socking great lurid blue green purple blotches. Oh, Clexane. I am less likely to bruise if I put an ice-pack on for a few minutes before and after injecting, and if I depress the plunger on the syringe v-e-r-y slowly. No, slower than that, even. Slower.
  • Cooter – (look, I said you could skip this) a little itchy, but hasn’t produced any spotting again. However, the waxy, slithery sensations of melting pessary/suppository are not nice. And my knickers do not approve. Yes, yes, I have panty liners, but I’ve never really liked wearing them, either. No, this is not sexy. No, we haven’t had sex since before retrieval. Damn it all.

So, yes, here we are. I have known I was pregnant since Tuesday morning, and Nothing Bad Has Happened Yet. That’s six whole days. It is not how we do things chez May. It just is not. I don’t really know how to deal with it. Optimism and good cheer seem ridiculously premature, anxious gloom is just churlish.

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25 responses to “Nothing bad has happened yet

  • valery

    Holy moly.
    Thank goodness for the nothing bad happening yet.
    I think my strategy was to take one day at a time, and only planning medication till the next scan. Even at twenty weeks I felt it wasn’t time yet for optimism. But now is a nice time to think of all the embryonic processes taking place, the folding and layering and what have you.
    Thinking of you!

  • bionicbrooklynite

    Oh, oh, oh! I am still stuck in the overwhelmed with gladness phase. I can’t help it.

  • Betty M

    All sounding jolly good there! so pleased for you both. Roll on that 6.5 week scan.

  • Amy P

    So very happy to see the blog title!

    So very sad that nothing bad happening is news…

  • Sheila

    So, so pleased for you May and H!

    I found it incredibly hard to enjoy my first pregnancy as I was premanantly in fear of what might happen next, so I kind of know how you feel. I don’t have your RPL history though, so I imagine that adds a whole additional dimension. By the way – sleepy progesterone has nothing on the jumping beans that is pred! It used to make my mind race all the time…..

    Wishing you both continued success for this little bean. Roll on August 16th. Oh and for future emergency reassurance scans, look up ultrasound-direct.com – you can usually get a scan close to wherever you need for £100 or less. All bookable on their website without a doctor’s referral and cheaper than having to revert to Riverside!

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    6AA is the perfect determined little soldier, and has Dug In bee-oo-tifully. I have a strong mental image of a circular ring of sandbags, bristling with defensive weapons. I swear, Harry survived my ute through sheer force of character; 6AA is evidently another such, and has started how he/she means to go on. Intrepidly!

    The trouble with pregnancy (Hurrah! Hurrah! HURRAH!) following after utter reproductive misery is that everything is liberally laced with Difficulty that other people just don’t Get. I DO get it, natch, but am STILL not sure whether to lead with more pom-pom shaking, mutter diffidently that we did not, on medical orders, have sex for my _entire_ pregnancy with H, despite a Terrible Case of the Pregnancy-Hormone Friskies, or gently advise that you can go for a scan any time you like. You have to PAY, sadly, but I personally found that the reassurance was worth it, and waved my visa card about profligately, regularly, YMMV, of course.

    To say I am closely following events is Understatement Of The Year.

    • wombattwo

      Yes, E managed to survive my uterus of doom through sheer force of character too, the character which becomes endearingly more and more apparent every day. 6AA seems to definitely be another such characterful being!

  • Mina

    Absolutely fantastic GOOD NEWS, this absence of bad news!
    Now we are waiting for embarassing and annoying news that come from having to deal with work and juggling medical appointments. THOSE, we can never have enough of those. Who does not enjoy a good story about gonads and bottoms kicking due to imparting clichés such as ‘pregnancy is not an illness, but IVF an elective procedure, similar to breast implants”?! That is priceless, right there, and it surely comes from an endless pool of similar gems. Can hardly wait…

  • Good news, I finally had real tears of pain and there is just nothing I can do about it. | certainlydifferent

    […] going to continue packing. oh and insult to injury a blog I was following Nuts in May, looks like she is Pregos! am happy for her, but am just crushed that its just one more that is not […]

  • Blanche

    Cautious optimism is the word, I believe. (or words, rather) Sending loads to you from this side of the Atlantic.

    Hang in there – YMMV but for me, tired hit round week 5 and nausea hit right around week 6. Thanks to the Christmas holidays our 6 week scan was delayed until right around the start of week 8 (it was an interminable wait!).

  • MFA Mama

    Just chiming in to say that I had cramping ranging from “hmm, wonder what THAT’S about” to an actual trip to the ER (once each during my first two pregnancies–in my defense the second time it was accompanied by bright red bleeding so I wasn’t a total idiot) because I was certain that I either had an ectopic or an impending violent miscarriage or possibly a ruptured appendix throughout the first eight weeks of my first pregnancy (and for about six weeks of my second, and four of my third), and I know this isn’t YOUR first pregnancy, but my point is that sometimes our bodies are just arseholes about these things without it heralding anything truly grim, especially with endo and/or a tendency toward ovarian cysts. So. As everyone has noted YMMV but TRY not to let the cramping unnerve you too terribly much.

  • Pamela Jeanne

    Optimist and virtual aunt reporting in: I am tickled to hear your news, May. Simply delighted…!

  • Jo

    Yay! So proud of Cute Ute for behaving herself. I had all of the same symptoms (minus the OHSS). It took my right ovary several weeks to settle down and stop being angry with me. And, as difficult as it is to wait, a scan a wee but later is more likely to show that fluttering little heartbeat we’re looking for. Better than the gray area and possible needless fretting, no? At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. Holding you so close in my heart these days, I swear I must be smothering you. Giant, squishy hugs to you and H.

  • Moira

    Oh my! Oh my oh my oh my!! 🙂

    And also, some of my abiding IVF and early pregnancy memories are ‘those’ phone calls. The ones in crazy places where there is no chance of being overheard.

    I rearranged our HUGE stationary cupboard at work during calls made whilst doing IVF!!!

  • Korechronicles

    I’ve been able to finally breathe out a little. Although I will need chiropractic assistance to uncross all the crossed bits. Given that your miserably, gut wrenching RPL history*is sitting on your shoulder and biting you at unexpected moments, the next few days, weeks and months will bring yet more challenges for you both to overcome. I’m hoping and praying that finally the universe will lay off and give you the simplest, healthiest and most straightforward, nine months EVER!

    * think cross between Miss Haversham and winged Alien. I did initially visualise a griffin but I particularly like griffins.

  • a

    I would appreciate it if you could continue to use this title for the next 9 months. Well, maybe you could change it up a little here and there. And it’s probably not necessary for the entire 9 months. Let’s say for the first 12 weeks or so, and then you can change it to…still good. Mid-August seems too far away!

  • L.

    Eh, you can be patient or waiting or confused or holding-your-breath or optimistic AND pessimistic all at once. I think you’ve darn well earned the right to feel however you like or not know how you feel at all. Somehow the idea of discussing a six-week scan is the most exciting thing I’ve heard from you yet; it makes it all feel very real. My oh my. I don’t want to shriek and yell because I know these are such cautious times for you. But I want to do the internet equivalent of sidling over and giggling and giving you a gentle shoulder nudge. This whole thing is pretty neat so far.

  • carole

    7 years on, I still remember those weeks of early pregnancy so vividly. That peculiar mixture of disbelief, relief and sheer bloody pant-wetting terror that dominates every waking moment. God, it was exhausting! You are doing the only thing possible: focusing on what’s OK RIGHT NOW. One day at a time, as the song goes. You do learn how to function more or less normally after a little while, although I never ceased to regret the impossibility of being connected to a scanner at all times….Fingers crossed, and roll on the 15th!

  • wombattwo

    I remember the cramps too, especially after walking. I always took it as a signal to sit down, put my feet up, drink a cup of tea and watch bad tv. I watched a lot of bad tv in my pregnancy!

    Oh goodness the pessaries. My underwear was not pleased. Despite panty liners. In fact, it was so unimpressed that after 24 weeks of taking them i had a complete underwear overhaul as there was no way that it would ever recover.

    If I could suggest a way of dealing with it, it would be not to. I mean, it’s too scary to celebrate and be optimistic, and yet it feels sort of wrong to be gloomy. So I would probably try to ignore it as much as possible. Head wrecker, I know.

    Am also following VERY closely, and offering internetty hands to hold.

  • Twangy

    Ooh! I really want to go YAYAYAYAYAY! On the other hand, shhhh! Don’t awaken the sleeping dog, (no, makes no sense). So a quiet, cautious hurray, I think. (Hurray! Shh.) NBHHY!
    Keep rolling, time!

  • Melissa

    I get more and more giddy with each of your posts!!!

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