What they don’t tell you!

I’m in my 40’s and I’ve been rudely awoken to what it means to be pregnant. Beautiful stories of peace and serenity are just sickly sweet words tripped out by would be earth mothers afraid of admitting they aren’t prefect.

I’ve not been sick so I can’t blame nausea, my boobs hurt and my stomach feels like it has needles stuck in it – but that’s not the problem because apparently that is down to the 800gms of progesterone I’m inserting into my body everyday.

No, the problem is anger, the problem is I feel trapped, the problem is I don’t know who I am and I’m only three weeks into the whole thing.

You see I’m an IVF’er so I know exactly when I conceived – I’ve been counting the days to see if the embryos embedded. I’ve undergone an awful lot of indignity leading up to this momentous occasion – which I’ll save for another time as I’m just not ready to relive the physical pain and emotional rollercoaster just yet. So I should be ecstatic, I should be joyous and exalted.

But you know what, I am and I’m not – I just can’t get past this feeling that I am now beholden, not only to this little thing growing inside me who I must and want to look after at all costs, – but to the father of this little thing. I’m terrified I’m never going to live the life I want to live, that I am now stuck, shortly to be financially dependent – and at the whim of his decision making, or not. It is scary, it feels like I am being transported back into the 1950s and I’m not sure I’m dealing with it at all well!


Stick it up your ar@e love

Have I said – I’m tired, exhausted to the point I can’t think some days – yesterday I felt like this man. I didn’t care, I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

I’ve been this ridiculously tired for weeks now, before the transfer – I think it started doing the injection phase – two weeks of needles into my tummy administered by my partner, apart from the morning when he didn’t return home in time from a night out in Manchester, despite promises and a ticking off because I didn’t trust him to catch the 6am train and get home in time – my assumptions are often correct!

Since the transfer I’ve been self administering Cyclogest twice a day, that is 800mgs of progesterone. The instructions advise inserting the bullet like pessaries one of two ways, I chose the more dignified way  as I reasoned it was just like using a tampon.

For three weeks I’ve been doing this, night and day. Have I mentioned I’m tired? I’ve also have needle like pain and my ovaries feel like they are still been stimulated – I’m uncomfortable, bloated and not at all happy.

Having read some forums and message boards about the effects, I finally realised that I might not actually have it so bad, some of these women weren’t getting out of bed, and many complained about letting out an awful lot of wind!

But despite the assurances, the fact that I have a full time, full on job  – this inability to keep my eyes open at times is causing me a lot of worry and stress, and the work is pilling up. So needing some reassurance and hopefully a way to keep awake for the next 8 months I called the hospital to see if they had a solution – though the word ar@e may not have been used! I was certainly instructed to stick it up my rectum to see if that improved the situation – I declined and went to bed at 6.30pm!