Shock and Awe

Spring break (aka Easter holidays) is usually a time for most people to get away from this frozen island and go some place warm. Last year I went on a cruise with my friend Heidi, and it was just what my soul needed. This year Nathan and I decided to schedule our third and final IVF procedure instead. It was a three-week window when I could go to doctors' appointments and have the egg collection, embryo transfer, and a week of bed rest. 

Back in February I traveled up to Newcastle to collect all of the medication from the Royal Victoria Infirmary and started the injections on the last day of our half-term holiday in Scotland. It was really difficult. I mean, really difficult. The drugs made me feel like a crazy person. I was anxious, fearful, weepy, weak. I felt overwhelmed constantly. It was worse than both of the previous IVF cycles combined. I cried every day and told Nathan that I didn't even want to do IVF this time. However, I knew I would regret it if we didn't. It was our last open door to parenthood in the UK, and it was free. That's the only reason I stuck with it.

***Warning: reproductive health talk***

After three and a half weeks, I went back to our fertility clinic in Newcastle for an ultrasound. It was the first of a series of three that they do before egg collection. The nurse doing my scan asked me how I was handling the injections. I wanted to cry and tell her that I was really struggling, but I just said, "Fine, I guess. I've been kind of emotional, but that's probably due to a few life circumstances right now." Like having to move across the ocean in four months' time but not knowing where with neither of us having jobs... on top of going through our final round of IVF and wondering what the heck I was going to do with my life if I wasn't going to have kids. 

She started the scan.

"When was the date of your last period?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't really know. I haven't had one since I started the drugs, but I didn't have one my first cycle of IVF either." While it's unusual (1/10 women don't) it wasn't abnormal, so I wasn't too concerned. I took a pregnancy test when I was quite late and had already started the IVF drugs, just for peace of mind, but it was negative.

"Can you try to estimate?" she said.

"Ummm... I miscarried our second IVF embryo in the middle of December, so I'm guessing the middle of January?"

*Silence*

"Is something wrong?"

"Well, I'm supposed to be seeing a uterus lining that is quite thin, but if you'll look here, it's rather thick, and that looks like a pregnancy sack." 

*More silence*

"Does that mean I'm pregnant?" 

The nurse kind of helped me come to the realization in stages, first telling me that it was possible I was pregnant. Based on my estimated dates, the pregnancy should have been eight weeks along, but it was only measuring between five and six weeks. She said that we needed to confirm it with a urine test (a positive sign straight away) and a blood test (anything over 50 for the hcg hormone is considered a positive test, and my number was 14,960). I was shocked. There were lots of tears. I'm sure the poor nurses wondered if I actually wanted to be pregnant. They told me to come back in a week for another scan to see if things had progressed normally. In the mean time, IVF #3 was cancelled and I was to stop taking the drugs immediately. 

***End of reproductive health talk***

I took this picture when I got home from the doctor's office. It pretty much just says, "Whoa."

I was alone, and Nathan was out of town at a church retreat and not reachable by phone. I had to keep the news to myself for two and a half tortuous days. It was awful. I was crying all the time. I was having major anxiety and irrational thoughts that I was going to die in a car crash or get stabbed and no one would know about our baby. Thankfully, as soon as I finished work at the end of the week I took the train over to meet him in the Lakes District.

When Nathan and I were finally alone that night, I took out the camera and told him to close his eyes and hold out his hands for a present. This is not unusual for us, so he was not suspicious. He was hoping for chocolate, but instead it was the positive pregnancy test in a plastic bag and the ultrasound photo. 

He was stunned. STUNNED, I tell you. I went back and forth about videoing the surprise, but now I'm so glad that I did. I've watched it so many times that the sound on our camera isn't working any more. 

The following week Nathan and I went back to the fertility clinic together. I came loaded down with the remaining drugs as well as a sharps container full of used syringes. I could not have been happier to get ride of those. The same nurse who did my ultrasound the week before was with me again. Within seconds of starting the scan she said, "Everything looks great. Your baby is healthy. Look, there's even a heartbeat right there." Nathan and I were so grateful to enjoy that moment together. And - we will never go back to that fertility clinic ever again. Wahoo!

We're still amazed and praising God. A lot of people have been praying for us in this area of struggle for years, even more so than we have, but I'm sure that most of them were not praying for this. If you're one of those people who has supported us, I can't thank you enough. You have carried us through some tough times. Times of grief and loss and confusion. Please continue your prayers for godliness throughout this time of upcoming change. Even though this news is now public, I am very aware that a take-home baby in November is not a guarantee. But you know what? We will still celebrate now. No matter what happens, even if we lose the little one, God is still good and worthy of worship.

The fact that I am pregnant still doesn't feel real sometimes, but my aversion to avocado as well as the smell of Nathan's cologne (and lots of other things!) tells me that I am not my usual self. We recently had our 12-week ultrasound, and there's an actual person in there. I think I was expecting him/her to still look like a little alien, but we saw arms, legs, face, brain, everything. It was crazy cool.

To those who are still waiting and longing for little ones, I'm sorry if this news has been painful. I want to be sensitive to you and care for you in a way I would want to be cared for. If I've messed it up, please let me know how to do that better. Infertility is hard. It's hard because you're happy for someone else and yet sad for yourself at the same time. I don't know how to balance being in both camps, but it's much harder than I imagined. After so many years on the outside looking in, I don't at all feel like I belong in mommy world, but I clearly don't belong in the infertility world anymore either. Hm... something to keep praying through.

Next up... how our families took the news. :)