Sunday, 10 November 2013

Knicker Watch Officially Starts Here

Today is a momentous day.  One that will go down in the history books.  Or at least the annals of my life.

I hope.

Yes, today is the day I got a faint line on a cheap pregnancy test from Wilkinson's.  And a day before Official Test Date at that.

I celebrated in hedonistic style, dancing (walking.  Didn't want to dislodge the blastocyst) around the room for a good hour, mostly to I Need a Hero by Bonnie Tyler and a selection of the songs from Grease 2.  Then off to Pret for a celebratory breakfast of superfood salad and peppermint tea (I do hope peppermint tea is safe for blastocysts).

I am a bit scared, of course.  Correction:  I am TERRIFIED.  Have to keep resisting the urge to stand on balcony with a megaphone bellowing the news to the whole of London whilst displaying the urine-soaked pregnancy test triumphantly as though it were the FA Cup as, after all, it may be (lowers voice to a whisper in case Blastocyst hears and starts getting ideas) a chemical pregnancy.

I am also a bit worried about this whole "positive thinking/visualisation" thing.  I mean, if you can make your womb lining grow by visualising it as a big fluffy duvet, as my acupuncturist suggested that you could, does this mean that you can also make your embryo die by imagining your period starting and ruining the whole thing?  If this is the case then Little Blastocyst is in big trouble, because I am visualising blood every time I go within a mile of a toilet, and since one is never more than one mile from a toilet unless travelling through remote desert lands on the back of a camel, this is quite clearly all the time.

And with that, I am off to the toilet.  Just checking, of course.

Sunday, 3 November 2013

Get Those Adhesive Molecules out and hold on tight Little One!

One day after my embryo transfer (this is known as "1dp5dt" by those of us in the know, and by that I mean those of us who spend a lot of time in IVF chatrooms hyperventilating over getting a "twinge in the ovary") and I am already mental.

I am seriously considering putting a picture of Little Blastocyst as my profile picture on Facebook, with a caption that says something along the lines of "F*** you all smug knocked up married bores using your scan picture as your profile picture because it is SO OBVIOUSLY A PICTURE OF YOU and not a smug self-congratulatory boast.  I have a picture of my offspring BEFORE IT HAD EVEN IMPLANTED IN MY WOMB."

However, as I am not a mental person who squawks on Facebook about how unreasonable everyone else is for not talking to them, paying them attention or generally telling them how great they are by posting attention seeking status updates about how miserable they are, I am not going to do this, however tempting it may be.

Also my mother is worried that she would get a lot of questions from our more conservative relatives.

The important point here, of course, is that I have a photo.  A photo of Little Blastocyst, microscopic offspring of Me and Random American.  I actually love it.  I am going to take it to work and put it on my desk.  Other people have pictures of their children after all.  Just because Little Blastocyst is smaller than everyone else's children I don't see why I can't have him or her on my desk.  Anyway, Little Blastocyst is top grade (well, 4AB, which doesn't sound like top grade to me but the embryologist assured me that s/he was very good).  Sadly, the other three quads didn't make it, and were "slowing down," which I was disappointed about, mainly because I had been hoping to freeze one or two as an insurance policy in case Little Blastocyst decides not to implant.  Now I have nothing.  No back up.  Just a fervent prayer that LB has the stamina to hatch out of the zona pellicuda and fix itself to my endometrium using his or her adhesive molecules (this is apparently what happens).

Fingers crossed.

Oh, and surely one day after embryo transfer is too early to be having pregnancy symptoms right?