I Tempted Fate

"In fact the last four months have seen me ovulate on time and to order ... If all goes according to plan I should ovulate in the next day or so."

Even as I was writing those words for the last post I knew I was tempting fate. Challenging my recalcitrant ovaries to defy me, and sure enough ovulation does not appear to be forthcoming.

I've long come to the conclusion that sex for procreation is an urban myth spread by horny young men when trying to shag as many nubile wanna-be-mothers as possible. So I am impatient to ovulate, less because of the progeny possibilities, but more so I can start to plan.

Once I know when I've ovulated I can work out: when my next periods is due, when I can start the clomid, when I'll have to slip out of work for pre-IUI scans, when my December IUI is due to take place, when I can test to see if it works, whether I'll know if Christmas boozing is out for the right reasons or just-in-case, when I would have my 12 week scan, when I can announce my pregnancy to the world at large, when I'll give birth, when I'll celebrate Junior's 21st birthday ...

I had an acupuncture appointment yesterday and discussed the uncooperative nature of my ovaries.  My acupuncturist decided the time for little pricks was over, he bought out the big guns.

Four pins stuck in my stomach just over my uterus isn't enough, it seems.  He hooked them up to some battery operated system (like clipping mini-car battery cables onto the pins). Then he gave me the dial, "You should start to feel a little electric current between 2 and 4." 

At four there was a distinct fluttering.  He made me increase the current until it felt like a deeper pressure in my uterus. Then he left me to it for twenty minutes, telling me to keep turning up the dial as I got use to the sensation.

I'd like to tell you I cranked that baby up to 11 but I was petrified of feeling any pain so only got as high as a sedate 6. Whether it'll jump start my ovaries in the manner of Frankenstein's monster remains to be seen ...

Still, its nice to try something new for a change.

Tantalising

There is a Greek myth about a dude called Tantalus. I say dude, he was actually a pretty nasty bloke. In order to prove that he could pull one over on the immortals, he killed and cooked his own son, Peplops, and fed him to the Gods to see if they'd notice they were eating a human. For Peplops the story has a happy ending; the Gods realised what had happened after a mere nibble of his shoulder, and he was revived and given and ivory replacement.

Tantalus, deservedly, wasn't so lucky.

He ended up in the underworld and was cursed with an unquenchable thirst and stomach-cramping hunger. His personalised version of hell was to be surrounded by fruit trees dripping with ripe juicy fruit just a fraction out of reach, and water lapping round his ankles. Whenever he stretched out to grab a peach a breeze tugged the fruit a little further away. When he bent to cup water in his hands to drink, it would instantly recede leaving him dry.

Much as I am sure you enjoyed that little lesson, I'm sure you are wondering what it has to do with me.

Pregnancy to me is like Tantalus' fruit. It is so near I can almost taste it (if that isn't too grim a metaphor). There is no reason why I shouldn't be pregnant. In fact the last four months have seen me ovulate on time and to order. This is the first time this has happened since I started trying to conceive and makes me hopeful that the mirena coil might have whipped my hormones into shape during its six month tour of duty.

The feedback I've had during my IUI's about how I have responded to clomid has been fantastic, as has the husband's sperm analysis. No one has said anything to make me believe that a pregnancy is out of reach.

But every time I try and grasp it it floats away.

I yearn for a child in the same way Tantalus yearned for food and water. We are both in our personal hell.

The difference is, as far as I can tell, I haven't done anything wrong.

I feel like my ovaries are tantalising me.

If all goes according to plan I should ovulate in the next day or so, and then I'll be ripe for the plucking (and for any rhyming slang you care to insert at this juncture). I hope the fruits of our labour will be a fruitful labour.

Some People Shouldn't Be Allowed Kids

I bought a pillowcase today.

The plastic wrapper carried a health and safety announcement:

WARNING: To avoid danger of suffocation keep this bag away from babies and children.

Stating the obvious, but fair enough, it makes sense. We get the message.

But, it then goes on to say:

Do not use in cribs, beds, carriages or

playpens. This bag is not a toy.

I think there should be some kinds of exam whereby prospective parents are given a plastic bag, and a multiple choice question about where the bag should be used. Anyone who ticks: cribs, beds, carriages or playpens should be automatically banned from breeding.

That's fairer than the current system of chance, innit?

***

And on a completely unrelated note, have any of you even noticed my header? That was a good 20 minutes work that was. I have now removed the header as it was seasonal, but here it is in all its glory:

Its Filmic

My film club sending me Knocked Up turned out to be less of an omen, and more of a taunt. But it did get me thinking about other films that might be appropriate this month:

• Great Expectations - As ever at the start the cycle I allow a little hope to creep in
• Some Like It Hot - an increase in temperature indicates ovulation, and that I like
• Snatch - Does this translate? Its british slang for ... ahem ... female genetalia
• Free Willy - And where there is a ying, there's a yang
• The Big Sleep - well, it is tiring all this baby making business
• Bride of Frankenstein - lets just say during the next couple of weeks I'm not the easiest spouse
• There Will Be Blood - sorry for making this sound so inevitable
• Brassed Off - that's putting it mildly.

And if that doesn't work we try intra-uterine insemination again next month, and it'll be time to add Weird Science to my rental list!

(The more literary of you might prefer this post.)

Foot in mouth syndrome

If I think something is funny I'll say it, or write it, or blurt it out consequences be damned.

You've already seen this can have terrible repercussions - remember viagra-gate? And I have frequently put my marriage at risk with many a dismissive but hilarious remark about the husband's manhood / sexuality/ performance just 'cause it seemed funny at the time (when in reality he is actually perfectly adequate in bed).

So, this post about The Fertility Show. I thought it was funny. I work in marketing, I've been to those meetings. Then today I got the following email:

Smugly, I thought to myself, at least I’m making a difference with this one. 6 months of unpaid labour, stress, a home taken over by boxes and flyers, no chance of profit and yet a looming financial risk…it’ll all be worth it. The charity [Infertility Network UK] will get some money. The visitors will hear some great talks. And if knowledge provides choice, then maybe we’ll help a few people going through a hard time.

Until I found your site. Crikey, I think I’ll go back to commercial reality. That’ll teach me.

We’re advertising so the exhibitors are happy. The exhibitors pay for the event to take place. 40 experts are giving up their time to speak for nothing. We have 8,000 seats in top talks that we’re selling for one pound. A morning spent at the show will cost the same as a movie. Everything revolves around giving visitors access to the best information.

Love your site, just want to say that the meeting didn’t go exactly as you suggest.

Jonathan

Managing Director, The Fertility Show

Ouch.

Seems I was wrong. That the organisers aren't the cynics here and they really are promoting this event for the right reasons.

Also a mate emailed me a link to this article about one of the speakers. She sounds amazing and definitely on my short list should my NHS-funded treatment come to naught.

If you are any thing like me you'll be reading this thinking "Aye, aye, what did she get? A couple of free tickets, a bag of magic herbs, a promise of IVF?" allow me to assure you I've had nothing but that charming email and a realisation that I am getting far too cynical and embittered for my own good.

Still they say no publicity is bad publicity so maybe in some twisted way I helped ...

The Fertility Show is on 6 & 7 November 2009 at Olympia, London.

The Fallout

The problem with getting a negative test is, in a true kicking you when you are down fashion, you also have to contend with the stomach cramps and general shit that comes with having a period. Which doesn't make for happy blogging.

When the first IUI failed it was a bit of a reality check. Turns out medical intervention wasn't the magic bullet I had hoped. I acknowledged my naivety, chastised myself for thinking it might work first time and got on with things. The failure of the second IUI has affected me differently. Its made me seriously question whether anything will work.

The thing is I have made some pretty significant life-style changes.

• Since the start of the summer I have virtually stopped drinking - regardless of the time of the month.
• I have been going to the gym three times a week.
• (As a result of the two above items I have lost half a stone bringing my body mass index down from an OK 25 to a very respectable 22 - the normal range is 18 to 25).
• I have acupuncture once a week
• I eat healthily and, probably needlessly, supplement my diet with vitamins
• I haven't had a cup of 'normal' tea since July (I've never drunk coffee)
• I take an hour for lunch every day, I rarely stay more than an hour late at work.
• I'm in bed by 11 every night
• I don't smoke
• And, you know, I've really cut back on my smack habit

In addition:

• I'm in my early thirties
• My last three cycles have been very regular
• The husbands sperm have passed every test with flying colours
• My womb lining has recently been given a clean bill of health
• I've had a couple of eggs ripe and ready for both IUIs

What more can I do?

Every day unhealthy, unfit, heavy drinking, smoking women get pregnant but I don't. I really don't believe that there is much more I can do that will increase my chances by any more than an infinitesimal amount. What happens is entirely down to fate.

And that is a pretty miserable thought.

Normal service will resume soon. I just need a bit more time.

The Results Are In

I didn't test early but my body decided to put me out of my waiting misery and plunge me into a whole new misery by allowing my period to start early.

And no, this isn't implantation bleeding unless there is an embryo doing some really major excavations going on in there. (There isn't, even though I knew, I still did a quick double-check test).

How do I feel?

Deflated, defeated, demoralised.

I'm starting to feel that this is never going to happen. I'll keep going for the moment but a massive part of me wants to give up (I don't know how I'd give up - go back on birth control just so I can eliminate any hope?).

So we go again, a month off and plan the next IUI for December.

Knowing my luck that'll lead to a dry Christmas and New Year with nothing to show for it.

This is shit.

The Marketing Meeting

“Hi Guys, thanks for coming along to this brain storm. I really appreciate it. So get your thinking caps on – it is time to imagineer.

“Right, what we want are ideas for our next big exhibition. We’ve had some real smash hits, and obviously the wedding show is massive, but then we tend to lose our customers. They come, they try on a few frocks, pick out their wedding photographer in the vain hope they’ll end up looking as good as the models in the portfolio, then, as fast as you can say ‘the honeymoon is over,’ we’ve lost them.

“What we want is a show that will keep bringing them back.

“What’s that, Arabella? Yeah, we already have lots of interiors shows. We’ve got Grand Designs Live, Homes and Gardens and Top Drawer. I’m looking for something different, something more blue skies.

“No Carl, I don’t mean flights - we’ve booked in the Luxury Travel Show, Destination 2010 and Ski & Snowboard. Think outside the box, man!

“Nah. The problem is, during a recession, people stop spending on luxuries like their homes and travel. So what we have to do is think: what will people still spend inordinate amounts of money on in these credit-crunched times?

“Yes, Jason, you are on to something there. Sex always sells. But we’ve already got Erotica. And to be honest, bondage and swinging is still a bit too niche. I want something that a large proportion of the adult population is interested in.

“How large? I dunno - if we could just get a sixth of the audience we get for the wedding show to come back, we’d be raking it in.

“So to summarise, we want:

Something that will draw back punters after the wedding show
About one in six couples
Something recession proof that will still have them digging deep in their pockets
And yeah, why not? Sex related

Oh! and what would be really good was if we could do something that didn’t involve screaming brats running all over the place.”

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you The Fertility Show.

Since writing this I have received an email from the organisers assuring me their motives are far less mercenary please read this post.

Knocked Up?

I started this two wait wait with almost no hope.

Nothing seemed right. Where as last time I had three plump folicules itching to pop, this time two meagre egg sacks had to be forced to burst early so that I wouldn't peak over the weekend.

It was my teeth that let hope in. A week after the IUI, on Friday, they were gnawing-on-ice-whilst-scratching-blackboards painful. I pride myself on my excellent teeth. This was unusual.

So, just for shits and giggles, I googled it.

Yup, turns out it can be an early pregnancy symptom. I knew it was ridiculous to get my hopes up on such a bizarre symptom so the husband and I invented a game we'd think of a possible symptom couple it with the word "early pregnancy" and see if it appeared on the list, we tried:

Sore stomach

Cramp in foot

Burping

Itchy legs

They all scored.

In fact the only ones that didn't were:

Farting (but then we realised 'gassy' does score)

Body Odour

and

Finding meaning in the lyrics of James Blunt (NB. I don't, but we were scraping the bottom of the barrel at this point).

Having just managed to laugh at myself for becoming one of those 'google every twinge' two-week-waiters I dismissed my hopes and tried to move on. Quickly checking my emails before heading to bed and I saw this from my film club:

And if you can't read that, it says:

Good news! We've just posted the following titles to you, so please look out for them.

Knocked Up

Admittedly I did put this film on my list, but I have loads of films flagged and they send them in a totally random order and this one has been in the pipeline for about a year.

Really trying not to read too much into this.

'Cause that would be just silly.

Wouldn't it?

And no, I won't test early. (I'm actually considering testing late, on Saturday, so I have a day to absorb the result rather than having to go to work immediately).

He Speaks

Throughout this whole trying to get knocked up process I have been intimately involved in almost every stage, I've had carnal knowledge of most of them. But there is one area that remains a mystery.

One lab that has been kept out of bounds.

One process that I have no direct knowledge of and have therefore been impotent when it comes to writing about it.

So allow me to present the one man who can talk you through this most base of activities. Through the power of a Q and A I introduce, well, I'll let him introduce himself:

Who are you?

The Husband.

What is your relationship to the author of this blog?
The husband.

What was your role in the IUI that took place on Friday 9 October?
I cracked one off into a cup and handed it to a man in a white coat.

Did you find it awkward when you presented yourself for your sample?
Not particularly, no.

What was the set up like in the sperm clinic?
Very clinical and eerily quiet. Also, entirely humourless.

Were you worried that you would not be able to perform?

No – see answer below…

What kind of literature was on offer to help?
A large crate full of grot. And a copy of Nuts magazine, presumably for the more discerning gentleman who prefers his women clothed (or for guys who like to get off whilst looking at pictures of footballers and/or the latest must-have gadgets).

Was there anything particularly unusual in the choice?
Apart from the copy of Nuts, there was a distinct ‘80s Euro-porn bent to the title selection – lots of permed hair, garish eye make-up and cold, smack-numbed stares. And a copy of something called ‘Plumpers’.

Were any pages stuck together?
Actually, disturbingly, yes. Someone had clearly misunderstood the purpose of the exercise.

Did you hear anyone else going about their business whilst you were going about yours?
Thankfully not.

Did you think about me at all?
Umm… look over there! A puppy! On fire! Ahem.

Did you see any other punters sheepishly shuffling around with cups of spunk?
Again, thankfully not, although I passed a nervous-looking couple in the waiting room as I left. Presumably he thought he might ‘need a hand’.

What did you say when you handed in your sample?
“Finished!”

The guy in the white coat just stared at me.

He then asked if I had got it all in the pot, and I’m happy to report that I managed to resist the urge to say: “well most of it, but you might want to clean the floor … and walls … and there’s a bit on the ceiling.”

Do you have any other reflections or comments you would like to share with the worldwide internet dot com?
Only that I would like to make absolutely clear that when I handed my sample over it was a perfectly normal sample colour, and categorically not the pinky purple that the nurse claimed was ‘my’ sample during the IUI itself. I’m not sure who’s that was, but it didn’t look natural. That’s all I’m saying.

********

So there you have it. If you have any questions for the husband please put them in the comments, I'm sure he'd be delighted to answer them - regardless of how intrusive they are.