Infertility

Trying for a baby and a history that now included two losses didn’t come without regular appointments at the hospital.

We were under the care of Basingstoke Hospital. I can’t fault the incredible staff there. They have been so sensitive, supportive and the care we have received has been brilliant. We are extremely lucky to have a National Health Service.

After the second pregnancy loss we were fast tracked to see a Fertility Consultant. Under normal circumstances you would be required to wait until a year had passed without a conception before being referred but I understand that this can vary all over the UK and can vary depending on your age. We met with a fertility consultant and we would now undergo a series of hospital tests.

You’re still so young, people would say, you have ages to start a family, just enjoy life.

Was I too young? What did that have to do with anything? We were married, in love and wanted a baby. The age we decided to start a family would be our choice and was no business of anyone else.  

Your time will come and everything will be OK.

Will it? Can you guarantee that for me? I would think. If only I could just see a glimmer of my life in the future. If I just knew that one day I would get to hold our healthy baby in my arms it would make this journey so much easier. There would be a light at the end of the tunnel but the tunnel felt long, dark and lonely.  

I was booked in for a scan. This would check my womb, left fallopian tube and look for cysts on my ovaries. I would have a blood test on day 1-5 of my cycle, and then day 21. This was to look at my hormone levels and ovulation. It would be repeated for 3 cycles. I was also booked in for HSG (hysterosalpingogram). This is an x-ray test that would check my remaining tube was not blocked and that the shape and structure of everything looked normal. It involved a dye inserted into my vagina while under x-ray so that the flow could be seen. I spent all evening crying following that test... Why had ‘baby making’ become so medical, embarrassing, uncomfortable and scary.  

I was often told to relax, it would happen if I stopped worrying and thinking about it. This used to really frustrate me. How was I supposed to stop worrying and thinking about it when I was so regularly being seen by the hospital? I was adamant they would find something wrong, at least that would give me the answers I was looking for and a reason for having lost two babies. However everything was fine, all my test results were normal.

Andrew also underwent a sperm test. We lived too far from the hospital for him to be allowed to provide a sample at home so I attended his appointment with him. Nervously we sat in the corridor just down from the fertility department. I was a little giggly, I couldn’t help it. I think a tiny element of it was nerves but I am human and I did find it a little funny. For once the pressure of this test wasn’t on me.

A lady in a white lab coat walked out into the corridor ‘Mr Reed?, he stood. Pulling her latex glove on over her fingers with an exaggerated ping she turned to me ‘Would you like to go in with him?’, I shook my head, ‘Andrew, would you like some materials?’, he shook his head. CRINGE. My lips and cheeks went so tight I thought I was going to burst with laughter. She opened the door to a small room, in the room a chair sat centrally alone. She handed Andrew a sample bottle as he entered and he closed the door and did what he needed to do.

All tests complete we were booked back in with the Fertility Consultant. This appointment was scheduled for January 2015. Another New Year was here.

At our appointment the test results were discussed and I was prescribed a tablet called Clomid. I would take this tablet for 5 days at the start of my next cycle. This tablet would increase my chances of ovulation and therefore our chances of conceiving. Like most tablets it came with side effects and like most fertility treatment a risk of a multiple pregnancy. I would have blood tests through the cycle to monitor the effects.

We left the hospital and finally I felt a little bit of control. I had something I could take that was medically proven to increase the chances of conceiving, not just an old wives tale I had read about online. I would take the Clomid when my next cycle started in February.

Anencephaly

Under a resolution to keep away from the internet, test sticks and craziness that had previously absorbed me, 2014 got off to a much better start.

I was still taking my temperature daily, it was a good way to monitor my cycles and detect ovulation which for me varied in each cycle. I was also having regular reflexology which I would recommend to anyone, it regulated my cycles and I got the best night’s sleep following a treatment.  Also for an hour each fortnight I relaxed away from everything and indulged in some me time.  I still have reflexology now.

February ended on a high, finally a positive pregnancy test! Because of the Ectopic I would have a scan at 8 weeks to check the baby was growing in the right place. We’d had our bad luck, we’d been the 1 in 4 and now this was our time. We decided we would share the news with family after the scan, when we had a scan picture to show off.

Our scan was on Andrews mums birthday, the baby was growing well and the flicker of heartbeat could be seen, a feeling of love overwhelmed us. We had the scan picture rolled up and put inside a balloon. That evening at dinner with all his family Andrew gave his mum a Birthday card which included a safety pin & asked her to pop the balloon. Once the balloon was popped and the picture unrolled she screamed with excitement jumping up and down and hugging us both so tightly. A reaction beyond our expectations.

The next day we had dinner with my family, Chinese take away! My parents were in on the plan and we had made some fortune cookies that inside read ‘Baby Reed due November 2014’. After dinner we all opened a fortune cookie, my brothers were more interested in the cookies than the fortune and my sister in law firstly thought she had opened mine but it didn’t take long for the penny to drop.

So much excitement, planning and dreaming followed in the weeks to come. Our baby was on the way! We measured up the spare room for furniture and spent hours online looking at all the things we would purchase, reading reviews and discussing names, absorbing every moment of pregnancy. We booked a last minute final holiday for the two of us and would return the day before the 12 week scan.

Scan day arrived, April 29^th, we were woken by a phone call. Our beautiful, blue eyed niece had safely entered the world. Our scan was scheduled just before visiting hours so we would head to the hospital with Andrews mum and then go and meet our newborn niece.

While Andrew was in the shower I had a cuddle with my Dad. I was feeling extremely sick, nervous and needed some support. In just a few hours we would be at our 12 week scan.  

‘What happens if the scan doesn’t go well? How do I deal with the possibility of bringing sadness into a day that should now be filled with sheer joy?’ I asked him.

Dad gave me the comfort I needed, he couldn’t guarantee everything would be OK but he could remind me I was strong, I had a supportive family and I wouldn’t have to face anything alone.

We were there in a room of darkness, I was led on the hospital bed with Andrew at my side as we held hands tightly. Jelly was applied to my belly and the sonographer started the scan. A friend of mine had suffered a silent miscarriage and I was petrified I would too however a moment later a baby could be seen, the heartbeat still flickering. Few.

‘I’m sorry’ she said. ‘I just need to get another opinion’ and she left the room. The chill of panic ran through my body. I knew it, I knew something was wrong. She returned to the room with a second sonographer who took over the ultrasound machine. Just minutes later they turned to us and broke the news that our baby, our second baby, looked to have a brain abnormality. Unfortunately the consultant wasn’t available and we were asked to return tomorrow.

As we walked down the corridor and out of the hospital the lump building in my throat suffocated me. I couldn’t breathe. The tears came flooding for us both.

Outside we were greeted by Andrew’s mum who was waiting to visit her first grandchild and hear our news. We didn’t speak, we didn’t need to. She knew, the tears rolled down her face too as we all stood there holding one another in the car park. Empty.

On the drive back home, Andrew was able to tell her what had happened, he asked her not to tell his sister until tomorrow, she had just had her beautiful little girl and the day should be celebrated. I just stared out of the window in silence. When I got home I walked in and howled, my parents were in the kitchen. They often talk about the ‘howl’ and pain they could hear in my cry. Through the tears and lack of breath I was able to tell them our devastating news.

Minutes felt like hours as we clocked watched counting down to the appointment with the consultant.

His sister was told the following morning, she was home from hospital and we went to visit, our pregnancy was not to be mentioned. The first time we met our niece we would never get back and we didn’t want it to be taken over by the sadness, the sadness was there but silent. I managed to hold her, admire her tiny fingers and toes. We didn’t stay long. We didn’t know then but it would be weeks before we would have the courage to see her again.

At the hospital our worst fears were confirmed as we sat in the ‘quiet room’. My mum was there for support and it was explained to us that our baby had an abnormality known as Anencephaly. When born it was unlikely the baby would survive more than a few hours. It was then we made one of the hardest decisions of our lives. We decided to have a TFMR (Termination For Medical Reasons).

Deciding to terminate our much wanted pregnancy didn’t come easily. How do you decide to end something you have spent years dreaming of? How do you choose to end a life you have created?

We wanted this baby more than we wanted anything in the world. However we were parents and decisions were no longer about us, how could we bring a baby into the world that would potentially suffer?  How could we put ourselves and our family through a pregnancy and the birth of a baby that would likely never make it home? These factors outweighed our desire to have a baby. I would be admitted to hospital 2 days later for a surgical procedure that would end the pregnancy.

This time we decided to tell our closest friends, I had learnt from the Ectopic that keeping things bottled up was not good for my well-being. I needed to be able to open up about how I was feeling. For 2 years I had felt stuck in the body of someone that wasn’t actually me, hiding a secret life from most of my friends. My best friend had known from the Ectopic and certainly reminded me how to have a good time when I was feeling low so to her I will be eternally grateful.

I went to hospital, was put under general, woke up and it was over. The baby had gone, dreams shattered.

A few weeks later my Dad reminded me of the joy that being pregnant had brought to us all. The baby that we never got to meet brought us all such happiness for those few weeks. We wouldn’t let this pregnancy end our journey, we would continue to chase our dreams. 

Trying To Concieve

February 2013, we decided to try again. Trying should have been fun, I was just 22 and we had only been married a year. The problem was I had now experienced a pregnancy loss. I had hidden it from my friends and turned to the internet. I was now a part of a ‘sisterhood’ from all over the world on the journey to motherhood.

The TTC (Trying to Conceive) Sisterhood speak a new language. I learnt a lot.  Many of these ladies have incredible stories, a great depth of knowledge and we all shared a common goal… GET PREGNANT! They were my lifeline, they became my obsession. TTC took over my life.

All this knowledge turned me crazy. Sex became scheduled and would involve special lubricants applied 15 mins prior to sex, pillows under my bum followed by my legs in the air, a daily 5am alarm to check my basal body temperature and no wee passed without being tested for ovulation or pregnancy depending on where I was in my cycle. Andrew was now married to a women on a mission and the most intimate thing in our marriage had become a chore.

In the summer of 2013 my sister in law let me in on her plans to start a family. Finally someone in my non virtual life I could talk to. I bombarded her with information, I opened up about my feelings, I shared everything and we spent hours upon hours emailing, I was no longer alone. We were in this together.

October came and she announced to us her pregnancy. 12 weeks, she was already 12 weeks pregnant. She had her first ultrasound earlier that week and they were now in the ‘safe’ zone and ready to share their news. We left their home and it was raining, I ran to the car, I ran to our room, I got into bed and stayed there for 2 days sobbing uncontrollably.

Was I jealous? No I don’t think so. Of course I would be lying if I said I’ve not felt jealousy along the way but she wasn’t the first person in my life to fall pregnant while we were trying. This baby wouldn’t be the first, nor the last. What I did feel was deception. All that time I thought she understood, I felt I wasn’t alone, we were in it together. I know now that she would have never wanted to deceive me. For them it was exciting, they were bringing a new life into the world and embarking on a new chapter. It’s also very much the norm to wait till 12 weeks for the big reveal. But for me life was on hold and it was back to my online TTC Sisterhood, back to feeling alone and bottling up all the emotions following my Ectopic and trying for a baby in the life I actually lived.

I pulled myself together and put on a brave face as my brother’s wedding day had arrived. I was privileged to sit on the top table as Maid of Honor. It was one of the proudest, happiest days of my life. However as I sat there in a room full of friends and family filled with love and laughter a part of me was empty. Our first baby should have been there, 3 months old. My life could have been so different. These thoughts don’t leave me, many an occasion I reflect on how old they would have been and who would they have looked liked, what would they be doing.

Christmas Day came and a year had passed since the Ectopic. I remember preparing the vegetables with my mum, dad was lighting the fire, Andrew playing games with my brothers and finally I felt like a weight had been lifted. We had survived the first year, all be it a little unsteady but we had got through it and we would continue to do so. I have a wonderful family, they are just there, tolerating my meltdowns, picking me back up again and never short of fun and laughter.

2014 New Year’s resolution… Enjoy every day, be spontaneous and show my husband I adored him. He wasn’t just a sperm donor, he was and still is the love of my life, my rock and he deserved his wife back.

The Ectopic

In June 2007 I met my soul mate Andrew, we fell madly in love and we married in November 2011.

In the year leading up to our Wedding my cycles were very irregular ranging from 16 – 66 days, I gained weight and developed acne. They had been irregular since I stopped taking the contraceptive pill due to headaches. However after purchasing our first house, refurbishing it then having a fire which meant starting from scratch, while planning a wedding abroad all within the same year I had put it down to stress.

Although we had always known we wanted children it was on honeymoon we decided we would try for a baby as soon as we returned to the UK.

I was due to be a bridesmaid for Andrews sister’s wedding 7 months later and when looking at dress styles I was worried about fit and the possibility I would have a bump. Back then never did I anticipate trying for a baby would be so hard.

Just after the wedding and still no pregnancy, I went to the doctor regarding my irregular cycles and not conceiving for 6 months. He conducted a hormone blood test which indicated I may have PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome). I was sent for an ultra sound scan which showed a couple of cysts but nothing major and I was diagnosed with borderline PCOS and told to return after a year of trying to conceive if we had no luck.

In December 2012 my period was extremely light and only lasted 2 days. It finished and a couple of days later I woke up to feel incredibly faint and nauseous. I rushed to the bathroom and was immediately sick. In the excitement of possible ‘morning sickness’ we decided to take a pregnancy test. It immediately showed the second line (positive) so I shouted for Andrew to come in. I was crying and shaking frantically with excitement. Together we cuddled, laughed and shared happy tears. It was a moment I will treasure forever.

I assumed I had mistaken implantation bleeding for my period, something I had read about online. We couldn’t have been happier. A year of trying for a baby had felt like a lifetime however we had just 8 months till we would become a family unit of our own.

Unfortunately just 3 days later I started to spot, I rushed to the doctor who dismissed me and said that unfortunately 1 in 4 women miscarry and there was nothing she could do, just go home and wait it out. I was in tears, devastated and asked how they knew I was miscarrying and not experiencing an Ectopic, something my mum had also experienced. After some persistence she agreed to call the EPAU (Early Pregnancy Assessment Unit). They agreed to see me so we headed straight to the hospital.

The staff at the EPAU were fantastic, welcoming, understanding and I quickly felt assured I was in safe hands. I provided a urine and blood sample, my temperature and blood pressure were also taken. My belly was examined and I was asked if I had any shoulder pain. Everything was fine, physically I felt fine. We were then sent down to the ultra sound department, nothing could be seen. I was sent home and asked to return 48 hours later for a repeat blood test. They were testing the HCG level, in normal circumstances over 48 hours it should double. If it dropped it would indicate miscarriage and if it rose but did not double it would indicate a possible ectopic.

I returned 48 hours later for the blood test and we left to have dinner with our friends and await the results which would be back that evening. At dinner they announced they had some news, at that exact point the house phone rang. Andrew left to get the phone and they continued to tell me they were expecting a second baby. Andrew came in as the phone was for me, the hospital, we both went to the living room to take the call. The HCG had risen but not doubled. We were potentially facing an ectopic pregnancy. Our hearts sank. Any sign of pain I was to immediately go to the hospital, Ectopic pregnancies can be life threatening. Our friends were in the dining room next door, they weren’t to know. We had already agreed we wouldn’t tell them everything going on before they came for dinner so we had a quick cuddle put on some extremely brave faces and went back in to congratulate them on their news.

Again I was required to return to the hospital after another 48 hours to have a blood test and another scan. I was diagnosed with a pregnancy of unknown location. The HCG decreased and we thought I may pass the baby naturally. I continued to have scans and blood tests over a period of three weeks. I was still only experiencing occasional spotting.

It was Christmas and we should have been enjoying the festivities but it was all a blur of exhaustion. That year we spent Christmas with Andrew’s family and all wore Christmas jumpers. We had a family photo taken in front of the tree and still to this day that photo fills me with sadness. In that photo our first baby is part of me, there in my tummy. The first baby we wouldn’t get to bring home.

We had planned on going away to Bath with friends for New Year. We were in two minds about going but decided as we were staying in the UK and if I should feel pain or need to get to a hospital we wouldn’t be far so we still went. It was a needed distraction.

We had been away for one night and woke in the morning to a call from the hospital, my bloods had risen and they needed to get me in before the Ectopic possibly ruptured. Holiday cut short we rushed back. Knowing this was a possibility we had my overnight bagged packed and in the car and we went straight to the hospital. It was then that I underwent a laparoscopy to remove my right Fallopian tube and the baby. The staff at the hospital were fantastic. It was New Years Eve and they relaxed visiting hours to allow Andrew to be with me. We played monopoly and watched the New Year come in. It was now 2013, New Year, new start.

When I returned home I was quite uncomfortable, quite bloated and dare I say it, relieved. We had been on an emotional rollercoaster. It was finally over. I have 3 scars on my lower belly from this operation.

I returned to work and ‘normal’ life two weeks later. I kept the journey we had been on a secret. I didn’t want to let people in on our plans to start a family. We also didn’t want our friends that we had dinner with to find out we had lost a baby while they were expecting and create any possible divide in our new found friendship. I wanted my life to return to how it had been, so we shut away what happened. We would wait for my cycle to return and try again.

We also went to a counselling session after this loss which I still believe was the key beginning for us both in a journey of deep emotional understanding and connection we have that makes our marriage stronger than I ever thought was possible.