Au natural

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A bit of fig ice cream and the gorgeousness of the Plaka alleyways and shops is enough to make anyone feel like they can escape reality

This time round everything felt different. Staying in Plaka meant that I could venture out and go for walks around the alleys and streets, enjoying the touristy and local vibe, eating myself silly and enjoying that amazing coffee. I am more into savoury things than sweet, however if I would have been born in Greece I am not so sure – the incredible sweet offerings are amazing from sticky baklava, to their chocolate croissants, to frozen cream filled Greek-style cannoli, to the incredible lemon pies. Yum!

I had a massive appreciation for Athens and it’s grittiness and funkiness that I had not been able to experience last time. It could be that I was more relaxed, it could be the area I was staying or maybe the way I prepared (having a sort of ‘mini’ holiday before I moved apartments closer the clinic). Whatever it was, I was noticing more, seeing things clearly and truly enjoying life. I shopped, smiled, browsed, discovered, walked and became an accidental tourist many times over.

Doing these things and feeling this way made waiting for that appointment a whole lot easier and when Monday morning rolled around, despite the early awakening (jet lag and dogs), I was very calm and ready for whatever news the scan bought me.

I had resisted googling ovarian cysts and what that meant for an IVF round however at the last minute I decided it was probably better to know and prepare myself. I looked up a couple of things and knowing not to scare monger myself, limited it to ‘well ok but that’s not the same as me’ or ‘enough, I will find out more tomorrow, no point worrying until I know’.

Melina (the amazing driver from the airport), arrived before time and took me to my appointment, all the while making me swear to contact her to let her know I was ok and the exact time I would do the transfer etc so she could send positive energy at that time.

I didn’t have to wait too long and I was back in my favourite cubicle…sans my lovely wrap around….go the skirt….my new favourite IVF accessory (thank god I had brought two)!  I was whisked in and sitting on the examination seat, legs up, when  I was startled as the door opened and in walked an extremely good looking guy. Now, when I say good looking….I mean….phwaor!!! I couldn’t even look him in the eye, I directed every comment and speech to Penny.  I still can’t even recollect his name, as to me he was an almost perfect specimen (by my standards anyway!).  I had never gone so red in my life.  You have to remember that I live in China and my ‘type’ does not exist there at all, not even in the expats, so for me this was amazing….amazing but mortifying!!!

Basically in short, I came out extremely relieved.  I could go ahead with this cycle (I got that without looking at the hot doctor with his hands sticking a phallic shaped thing up my…well, you get the picture).

Unfortunately the cyst was still well and truly there (very dominant….poos!), and my right ovary was now only showing 1 follicle.  Because of this they decided that any kind of stimulant would risk the one chance I have of getting an egg turing into a cyst, so now it was a completely natural cycle for me. No needles, no crazy mood altering hormones, nothing (well, that wasn’t quite the case but that’s what I was initially lead to believe).

My lining was still too thin, so I had to wait until Thursday to go back and have another scan in the hopes that my lining will be thicker and ready to go – AKA accept an embryo!

It was all super weird to me as this is so different to last time and the daily scans and stimulants.  It is incredible how bodies work, you would assume that what happened the first time would be what happened the next…apparently this was another thing I had to abruptly learn.

I was going to have to further preoccupy myself until Thursday morning (9am), in the hope that my egg would stick around.  If it did, when they removed the egg they would aspirate the cyst at the same time – essentially killing 2 birds with one stone and saving me a whole lot of discomfort.

I was extremely elated that there was still a chance that this cycle was not a bust and that there was still a small chance that this could work.  As always, staying extremely positive and having booked a night away on a Greek island to feel a bit normal and to relax and distract myself, was exactly what I needed.

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Second time around

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My airbnb with a view of the Acropolis and a jacuzzi! Infertility heaven!

I always knew that the second time around would be different but I was not prepared for how much easier it was….well, day 1 that is.

Leading up to heading back to Athens for my second round was crazy busy but to be honest in my job and life -what’s new?  Working right up until the day I left gave me routine, consistency and a busy-ness that I did not have in my previous round, as it had been in the middle of summer holidays.  I still stick to my guns on the fact that I really did everything I could to minimise the stress and overthinking but going into this round I could fell the difference.

Maybe it was the busy-ness, maybe it was the acupuncture, maybe it was the counselling, or maybe I had just got my head in to a better space….whatever it was, I was just super glad.

The day I left I held it together nicely and felt incredibly loved and supported with so many well wishers dropping by my class or leaving messages for me.  It wasn’t until I had to wait 30 minutes in the bank to pay my electricity bill with nothing else to do, that it all hit me like a tonne of bricks….Holy shit, I’m going to do this all over again!  The panic rushed in- my heart raced and I suppose technically it was probably a mini panic attack.  Managing to get it under control with some tough love, I was able to push through it and with the distraction of a dinner date with a friend pre flight and the fact that I had managed to procrastinate packing (a very un-Amy thing to do, which I now realise was on purpose….at the time I thought I was just being either laid back or lazy! lol), I managed to calm down.

The airport was the craziest I had ever seen it and apart from a quick stop at Starbucks for a tea, I had no time for anything else and was on the plane.  Despite not having slept through the night since being back and not managing more than 6 hours sleep (I usually can only function on 8), I was out like a light and in and out of consciousness for a good 4-5 hours.  Major win for me.  Istanbul’s quick change and hideous lines, got me straight on the next flight and again I was out to it, arriving in Athens early with my bag making it all the way through and was the first one out.

My Airbnb host had been amazing and had organised a driver to take me to my appointment straight away , wait for me and then bring me to the apartment.I forgot what Greek people are like and a smiling woman greeted me with a hug and then straight away, after saying she had bad English, began to talk my ear off and worriedly asked me what was wrong that I needed to go to the hospital.  I have since realised that it was not a Maria thing (my Airbnb host from last time) but a Greek thing.  They are the most caring, non-judgemental, passionate people – they are incredible.  I need to either move here or marry into a Greek family!

I was early to my appointment and dare I say it, it was almost like coming home.  I even gave the driver directions to the clinic.  I walked in like I had never left, had a bit of banter with the receptionist, feeling like ‘old-hat’, as I looked around the waiting room at the nervous faces.

Feeling ‘old-hat’ meant that when I waited 40 minutes I wasn’t surprised or bothered and when I was asked to change in the operating room, as they were super busy and needed to get me done quick, it did not phase me.  A stark contrast to the last time I was in that position.  When I was asked to confirm that I was doing a’Natural Supported Cycle’, I knew exactly what that meant.

My favourite skimpy wrap around cloth on and in came Penny, just another day back at the clinic for her, so no big reaction to me being there.  It was down to business, or should i say, all up in my business.

My right ovary had decided to come to the party this time and had 1 (13mm) follicle and a half. Yippee.  They made sure I saw that, as last time the right ovary was not so excited to produce anything.

Next we looked at the left ovary and she asked me to tell her what I was seeing.  It was a big and very clear follicle.  I got excited.  That was incredibly short lived.  Turns out, it really wasn’t such good news, it was too big which meant that is was probably an ovarian cyst.  Crap!

This then meant that if they gave me stimulants there could be too many risks – one, that it would over stimulate and burst and two, that it would compromise my other egg.  Not having stimulants means that my chance to grow that half follicle in the right ovary is pretty much gone.  I now had to wait until Monday at 8.45am (it was Saturday at 10.30am), to see how this cyst was going and to maybe investigate more which could mean a cancellation of my cycle. Crappyity crap crap.

Choosing not to worry until I had to, after a phone call to my parents, it was off to my Airbnb.

They had rushed the cleaning for me and I was able to have access straight away to the house – which was insanely amazing by the way – stunning balcony, view of the acropolis and a spa on the balcony!!!  Just what I needed for those first few days….to feel a bit of normalcy in this ‘not so normal’ situation.

So, it was off to play tourist and wander the streets for the next few days, spending money to make myself feel better, stumbling across ancient ruins and soaking up the sun on that balcony.

And it all came crashing down

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The aftermath of rock bottom

Sucking up the possible cost and realising that I needed to do this to help things progress and leave no stone unturned, I booked an accupuncture appointment one Saturday afternoon in August.

After not hearing back from an acupuncture specialist recommended by a friend who used her for fertility, another friend recommended an international hospitals TCM department.

I had woken up that morning and felt really weird, a bit off, which is weird for me but not unheard of.  When I am like this I need to either keep to myself or get out and about and do things.  After lazing in bed for a few hours, I decided that the latter was the best approach….hmmmm……wrong move Martin, wrong move!

I was already a bit dark at the hospital as they had not responded to my online appointment request I had done earlier in the week but being the stubborn person I am was determined to forget that and get this started.

After an easy Uber ride over I was greeted by a very stark, hotel like vibe, with absolutely no other patients around.  Very strange, nothing like the private hospitals of home.  I had to ‘check in’ and show my passport, fill in some forms – standard – and then was picked up by a concierge type person and escorted through the hospital and onto the elevator….I think I saw one other person on that journey….and they worked there.

I was told how much the appointment would cost (around Y700), and was happy to pay that to see what would happen.  I was expecting more to be honest.  After a 30 minute wait, I was finally able to see the doctor.

She asked me why I was here, felt my pulse, looked at my tongue and promptly told me that my kidneys weren’t functioning properly and that they are linked with my uterus.  She also told me that my liver is linked with those also.  Ofcourse it is!  She then proceeded to tell me absolutely no alcohol.  I should have left right then and there.

The next thing I knew, I was in the next room, changed into loose clothing and had 20 needles in my stomach and legs.  The ones in the legs hurt the most….apparently my channels were extremely blocked.

I was supposed to be left for 20 minutes……5o minutes later and one very interesting consultation (I could hear everything from the room next door – very inappropriate), she was back and finally removing the needles.  20 minutes with 20 needles seemed doable but 50 was not so fun to a needle phobic.  She was not my favourite person at this point.

The doctor proceeded to tell me that I needed to pair this with Chinese medicine and I was happy to do what she recommended (I was in China, so why not go the whole hog, it shouldn’t be too expensive).

Kindly she recognised that my insurance was about to change and told me that she would charge me for the acupuncture on the 1st and for now I would just pay for the Chinese medicine.  I was so grateful and super relieved – this took a lot of pressure off me and especially off my credit card.

Next I was asked to wait for a short while, while she prepared the list for my medicine so she could tell the pharmacy downstairs what to ‘boil up’ (her words,not mine).  Another 30 minutes later and my patience was wearing very thin.  An appointment that should have taken an hour tops was well on it’s way to becoming 3 hours.

Finally they had it sorted and I was again escorted down to the cashier.  I was annoyed at the time everything had taken but was very thankful for the delay of payment so was happy to pay and get out of there.

The cashier then announced my bill total of over Y2000 (NZD$400).  Wide eyed with surprise I asked him to repeat it.  That poor, poor boy!  I then open mouthed (open and closing like a fishes does), asked him for a print out.  You should have seen the list of ingredients in the medication  AND I have also been charged a fee for the appointment.

Tears welled up and I was DONE being punished.  I had no idea what to do.  This is time that I really felt the effects of doing this on my own.  I had no one to bounce this off to see if I was being absolutely played.  Already feeling the financial brunt of the change in insurances and also not being able to verbalise how I was feeling, everything came crashing down around me.

I managed to collect myself enough to say – “No way” was I paying that.  The poor boy gave me a discount on the appointment price (20% off….what the hell….how can they do that…I found that very weird but took it anyway…usually I would be super embarrassed and say ‘don’t worry about it’….but stuff that!! I took the discount).

 Quickly I realised that maybe the medication was for a month or 2, so after I told them to stop ‘boiling it up’, I went to check with the pharmacist to see and turns out it was only for a week!!!  Later, on reflection, I was very proud of myself that I had said no and not paid for that.  At the time though, I had felt awful about it all and had thought the doctor would think badly about it – god, I need to stop caring about others and more about myself!

On the way out I stopped to try and get good wifi to get an Uber home (that wasn’t happening) and I broke down in the deserted hallways.

Collecting myself I managed to get to the front desk to ask for a taxi – that would take anther 15 minutes, sick of waiting and upset I walked out….onto a busy and congested road and willed Uber to work.  I started walking towards places I knew (I wasn’t anywhere near my house, so that was out).  The best stroke of luck I had all day was an Uber was stuck in traffic literally 10 metres from me and I was able to jump in.  After 10 minutes of being stuck in 200m of traffic, we were on the highway and I was home within another 10 minutes.

Closing the door behind me, I burst into tears and proceeded to hyperventilate and cry.  I had finally reached the pinnacle of what I could take.  I could be pushed no further, I had finally after all this time reached my absolute breaking point.  I now knew my limits and the consequences weren’t pretty.  This was like nothing I had ever experienced before, this was a first for me.

After a few hours of on and off crying and hyperventilating and a call to my sister (thank god for her being able to help pull me out of the pit of despair), I was able to calm down.  I never want to see the bottom of that pit of despair ever again.

All I could think about was why the hell was I being punished for trying to do the right thing?  It’s a hard thing to grasp and to come to terms with and even though I constantly try to see the positive in everything, I’m not sure I ever will understand why.

At least it had happened – I had hit rock bottom and there was nothing to do but climb out.

**On a lighter note – If you know me you will know that the fact that I missed seeing an All Blacks rugby game demonstrates how rock bottom I was that day!

Paving the way

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Amongst all the crap I had to wade through I was supported so amazingly by so many people.  I was truly humbled and thankful. Flowers from a lovely friend.

Apparently going back to reality and trying to do all the best things for myself to ‘right’ myself and get myself into a positive place meant that I needed to dish out a whole lot of money.

The good news, working internationally, you have medical insurance.

The bad news, we were about to switch providers, right in the middle of me coming back, getting on track and starting my treatments.  Meaning that the deductible of Y7000 (roughly NZD$1400), I had to meet would be a double header because with the previous medical insurance I had not met the deductible.  Essentially, I was being punished for being healthy.

The worst news – nobody covers infertility.  It’s absolute bullshit if you ask me.  Like my circumstances, some aspects of infertility aren’t a choice, it’s not like I chose to do these procedures, all my specialists have given me a time frame.  It makes me mad but there is nothing I can do about it but deal with it and move forward.

So with counselling being Y1400 a pop (roughly NZD$300), getting medication into the country (NZD$1200), and yoga costing Y100 (NZD$20) each time, adding acupuncture to the list was pushing it but I was determined to do this right.

My medical insurance although not covering infertility still listed 20 counselling sessions and acupuncture appointments as covered (after you have met the deductible).  Preparing myself to be Y7000 out of pocket after just coming back from holiday, I booked appointments and bit the bullet, sucking up the loss for the long term gain.  I got onto the insurance company before we even started with them to inform them of what I was doing, thinking I was doing the right thing and getting it sorted early.

Almost 2 months later and I am still having to fill in forms and justify my decisions and now also release confidential medical records, even though I have been told my counselling sessions are approved.  My god! Nobody tells you about all the hoops that you have to jump through behind the scenes as well as trying to stay on an even keel and deal with the shit hand you have been dealt.

All I am trying to do is do the best thing for me and I feel like I have been ridiculously punished….guess I’m going without a few dinners and wines over the coming months!

Lol – I am counting myself so lucky that that is all I am going without and thanking my lucky stars I am where I am right now and in the job I am in to be able to figure this all out. I truly believe that things happen for a reason and that this is another reason that I am in Beijing at this point in time.

This frustrating financial and annoying insurance hell is one of the side roads that paved the way to rock bottom for me and when I hit it, it really wasn’t pretty.

Money (and insurance companies) suck!

Back to life…back to reality

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Walking back from an appointment – walking seems to help a whole lot and it helps that all my appointments are about 30-40 minutes walk from my house!

…there seriously is a song for every situation.

Being around people was what I had initially needed but then before I went back to Beijing I had definitely needed space.

Space to work through my feelings, to process things and to look toward what was coming next.  I needed to prepare myself for the questions, having to face up to the fact that although this blog has helped me in way more ways than I had expected with all the support; acting as an outlet, eliminating taboo of infertility that I had previously experienced and for the sharing of stories, it has also opened me up to having to share my most personal experiences and answer questions that I may not be ready for or prepared to answer, especially in regards to the negative result.

Coming back to the realities of everyday life in some ways was relatively easy and in some ways it wasn’t.  It gave me an outlet in the form of work and routine, returned the mask to firmly cover the real emotions and gave me a place to hide in plain sight.

I started acupuncture, joined yoga twice a week, swam twice a week, did a meditation APP as much as possible and went to counselling.  I had an appointment or something that I did everyday.  In true Amy fashion I even made a spreadsheet/table titled ‘I CAN do this’ to keep track of everything that I was doing.

I made myself so busy that I was unable to process my feelings, I could not verbalise them and I certainly wasn’t acknowledging them.

This caused many problems as people did not realise that I was crumbling.  To them I appeared totally ok…fine….dealing with it in a positive  way and moving forward.  The simple truth was that I was not verbalising how I was feeling because I didn’t even know what I was feeling.

It took me a long time to figure this out, as I had firmly decided that there was nothing that anybody else could do.  Which to be honest is the harsh but complete truth.  I am the only one who can do things to get myself into a better position to undergo the second round, I am the only one who knows how it felt to be totally isolated and alone in Athens, I am the one that this happened to and am the only one who can prepare myself adequately to go through it all again.

After a particular session with the counsellor I realised that I was completely right.  There was nothing anyone else could do BUT she made me realise that the ridiculous guilt that I was feeling because I assumed I would be ‘putting people out’ by asking them to do simple things when they offered was completely ridiculous.

So taking baby steps I asked my parents to help me locate the stimulants via online sites, I asked people on FB to give me TV series and movie recommendations and I asked people to come to a party I wanted to throw the week before I left, to let loose and to also thank them for all the things they had done for me.

Nothing too crazy but to me a HUGE ask.  The funny thing was the immense feeling of pressure being lifted after asking people to give me suggestions for TV shows and receiving them was incredible.  It lifted so much pressure off my shoulders, meaning I could easily take their suggestions and download them and not have to think, search, look up or ask around.  So small, but so effective.

Along the way I am learning and doing tiny things that can help me prepare and get myself in a good place to go through this all again and I think it is working.

Only time will tell but I am willing to put in the work.

 

 

Feeling punished

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Taken right after the negative was confirmed -Sunglasses are an amazing tool, my new best friend.

Celebrating the positive is all well and good in normal life but throw into the mix the devastation of my first round not working, my body coursing with hormones and all those myriad of other feelings and thoughts, it tends not to lend itself to a positive pathway.

That was me, on the corner of a tiny little seaside town in France outside the pharmacy absolutely losing it and bawling at the unfairness of life…actually, it was the unfairness of IVF drug costs but that had just been the straw that broke the camels back.

After letting me know my negative result, Penny told me to take some time to ‘allow myself to come to terms with the outcome’.  Completely ignoring that advice, as I was painfully aware that I had to get onto organising my ‘comeback’ IVF round (remember I had paid for 2 rounds…not quite for the price of one! Haha), I forged ahead with plans and quickly realised that I need to obtain some stimulants.

China and a lot of Asia do not allow single women to partake in fertility treatments and having being in contact with a few clinics in Beijing early on in the year, I had learned that they could only supply stimulants to customers on their IVF programs.  Great, just great.  The only way to get on these programs was to be married – don’t you just LOVE life sometimes.  Ludacrious.

With Serum being on break for the month of August and with Penny out after a hip operation, I was in contact with another gynocologist who told me (in a round about way), that I needed to get ahold of some stimulants, as we would start them asap when my cycle was due.

Panicking I realised that that wouldn’t be able to happen in China, so with only a few days left of Summer vacation and a quick trip back to Athens out of the picture with the clinic closed, I was left with trying to locate some stimulants either online (with a very slim hope of getting them into China), and locating them in France.

Enter into the equation AirFrance’s strike, coinciding directly with my flight to Nice and then to Paris and them not answering any phone numbers in any offices or answering their emails over a period of the 3 days, both on and after the day I received my negative results, I was livid.  Not only was it cancelled flights but it was more money out of pocket and 5 hours plus on the phone with calls unanswered.

I cursed the clinic….to me it made perfect sense to tell someone after their first round, who has made it perfectly clear that where they live has a lot of limitations, to maybe consider purchasing some stimulants to take back with them just incase.  Apparently that is not the way they think and operate because if they had done that I would have bought some.  I mean, why not add a few vials of stimulants to my already drug filled suitcase and carry on. It would not have made a huge difference to me then but the stress that it was causing me now by trying to locate these drugs was two-fold.

My friend being the saint that she is suggested we go down to the local pharmacy and see what they could do.  Having searched online already I knew the generic name for Merional – I still don’t get why they have different names for the same, or almost the same, drug in different countries…makes no sense to me.  The pharmacy had no idea what I was talking about but after my friend took over and spoke in French and we gave them the generic name, they would be able to get it to the pharmacy the following day (just in time before I flew, on my new Jetstar flight – buggar you AirFrance).

The catch of course was I needed a prescription from my clinic, which I had but it was for Merional, not the French version called Menopur.  Ok, I could do this and hopefully we could make it back with the new prescription before 7.30pm.

The second catch – 10 vials would be the equivalent of $3000 New Zealand dollars.  By this stage I had had enough.  Not only were my eggs shit for some unknown reason, my first round a failure, my finances majorly depleted but now I was being punished for wanting children, something granted so easily to others, by being charged ridiculous prices.  In Greece, the stimulants cost  E17 per shot.  Massive price difference.

I was exhausted.  Who the hell was trying to punish me and for what?

At that point I gave up – on the corner of a street, in a little seaside town in France, I bawled my eyes out, pumped full of hormones and grief, on my friends shoulder.

I am so thankful, everyday, for that friend.  Without her I have no idea how I would have gotten through those initial first days.

Never underestimate the power of a non-judgmental, tolerant and ‘there through everything’ friend.  The kind that knows how to be there and how to help without you saying anything.

Long story short – there was NO way I was paying that amount for these drugs and decided to leave them.  It wasn’t worth the financial and emotional stress and if I had to take some more time off to make sure I was in Greece earlier to get the cheaper drugs, then that’s what I would do.

Also, thank god for those following 4 days in Nice – I finally felt like I had had a holiday.

 

The full story

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Post IVF body, uncomfortable, bloated and pumped full of drugs. Baring all to seek to the positive from a ‘Negative’ day.

While in Sweden having a great time, thankful for the friends and family that surrounded me to take my mind off things, my friend mentioned that she had a few home pregnancy tests in her bathroom and that if I wanted to I could use one.

Initially hesitant, on the morning of my blood test to find out my results (AKA my HCG levels and Progesterone levels ), I gave in to temptation and asked her if I could use one and took the test.

It was quite hilarious. Every TV show and movie that you watch shows the woman taking the pregnancy test nervously peeing on the stick and waiting patiently for the results.  It did not conger up any feelings of that for me.  It was nothing like I expected.  It was almost normal, another part of the process and a small step forward.  Sweet step by sweet little step.  Definitely no dramatic waiting scene here.

A few days previous I had noticed that two of the horrendous side effects that I have been experiencing – bloatedness and terrible face acne had miraculous disappeared (well the pimples had cleared but the belly bloat stayed around for awhile but the feeling of puffiness had mysteriously vanished (I have since found out that those symptoms are caused by Progesterone).  I had mentioned this to my brother and said to him ‘I’m not trying to be negative here but I have a feeling that it might not have worked’.  That bloody gut feeling getting put into play again.

A few minutes later and the stick was showing me a resounding ‘Negative’.  There wasn’t even a tad bit of a faded line or a glimmer of hope.  It was a flat out ‘NO’.

Wow.  That was not what I was expecting…with an embryo actually implanted and copious amounts of pregnancy enhancing drugs in my system I expected at least a slight faded line – the dramatic part of the TV show or movie came into play here.  Much to my surprise, apparently it doesn’t work like that.

It was a crazy feeling to explain, mainly because you are warned that you can have a false positive but you are never told that there is such a thing as a false negative.  Maybe there is a reason for that and that is that maybe it just doesn’t exist.  In my heart of hearts I knew and my poor friend had to see me try to take it in and try to hold it together as I waded through uncertainty.  All credit to her (she is a pretty phenomenal person) and she was like ‘Feel it, let it out, do what you need to do and don’t worry about me or others’.  So amazing.

For absolute clarity we ventured to downtown Stockholm to a clinic to get the blood test.  After a lot of chat in Swedish we were able to determine that we could get the results rushed through and while I was waiting to board my plane to Nantes (via Brussels overnight), I could call to get my results.  We then spent a very lovely afternoon riverside eating amazing Swedish food and then it was off to the airport I went.

My amazing ‘brother from another mother’ sensing my distress after saying goodbye to my actual brother in a flood of tears, jumped on the bus with me and helped me locate the next one to the airport and was there to just help me simmer down and get ahold of my emotions.  I really am so thankful to all of my friends and brother through this time.  It was great to have such genuine and incredible people around me, looking after me, knowing me and knowing what I needed without judgement.  True, true friends that I will always treasure.

Unfortunately at the airport there was a mix up and I was not able to get my results (wrong phone number was given), and I had to wait until the next morning to call.

After a good sleep in Brussels (sometimes emotionally exhausted comes in handy), I stood outside the airport hotel waiting for the shuttle and again was denied my results as they told me they had sent it to my clinic (Serum).

Frantically, before I lost wifi, I shot an email off to Penny to tell her what was happening and that I would appreciate it if she could email me my results asap 1. Because I then would know if I had to organise another blood test in Nantes and also someone to do more butt shots for me and 2. because they were my bloody results!

Arriving in Nantes I was greeted by my bestie’s father and luckily with no wifi, a long drive and me trying to recall my rusty high school French (her father only speaks French), I was distracted long enough to make it to the tiny, gorgeous seaside town on the West coast of France.

Unfortunately for my bestie she was now lumped with me on edge and anxiously waiting for the email that would seal the fate of my first round.

It came in 2 forms.  One from Penny and one from the blood test clinic in Sweden.

Thankfully the sereneness and the fact that I had already had over 24 hours to process the absolute negative from the home pregnancy test meant that I could take it on board a bit more easily.  Not too gracefully mind you but much better than I or anyone around me expected I think.  Don’t worry – there was a side of the road melt down a few days later to prove that I actually am human!

So we did the best thing we could do and that was to take my gorgeous friends wee one down to the ocean, where after 2 weeks of no swimming and following all the other ridiculous rules that I had to stick to, I waded out and dived straight into the ocean.

Celebrate the small things and look to the positive, that’s what I am trying to continue to do.

A toast

 

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A Rose in hand and toasting with them, never a more fitting toast at such a relevant time

In the waiting area of Nantes airport I was catching up on a TV show ‘Kingdom’ and was floored when they did a toast that encaptured exactly how I was feeling. At first I had thought that what I was feeling was just numbness but then after this speech, or in reality a toast (complete with mini bar bottles of spirits), I realised that I was feeling all of these things…except maybe the self loathing part and unfortunately I have no pills to make the pain go away.

The toast went like this:

Woman: To panic attacks…and insomnia

Man: ….and depression

W: ….and rage and loss

M: ….and self loathing

W: …yeah, thats not me, thats you…..but bitterness…

M: I like it, I like it….hopelessness

W: …..oh, fuck, I’m swimming in that

M: …yeah….here’s to all the fuck’n pills that make the pain go away

W: …yes

M: …and fuck you god

Now, I’m not religious so that last part isn’t quite right but I am saying fuck you. I have no idea to who but that’s how I am feeling. I think that is bitterness speaking.

Insomnia and depression are old news, present since the day I found out I had a low egg reserve and a time limit. But rage, loss, pain and hopelessness are all new to the mix. Add numbness and you have Amy Martin right now.

The first round did not work.

Who knows why. I guess there is no use dwelling on things but my mind and body are not in a good place right now.

I seriously was questioning how I could do this all over again. The pain and hopelessness have been at the forefront of things.

Hopelessness has dominated everything and it makes it hard to get to a good place.

I guess with being on holiday all I am doing is looking toward when I get back to Beijing to get my body and head in a good place/space. I’m joining up to exercises classes as soon as I get back to leave no doubt that it was my body that let me down.

I will see a counsellor, no matter the cost, to talk things out, hopefully find acceptance and get my head in a good place.

I will use my obvious easy access to Chinese medicine and start acupuncture (more needles, I know) to help aid fertility – it’s a thing…believe me. Anything to help.

At least then I will have no doubt if it doesn’t work next time that I did everything I possibly could and that it will leave no doubt in my mind that I did everything I could have done to prevent it.

It will work.

See, I can still be positive, even if it is only a timid little whisper somewhere down deep.

I will get to a good place and do it all. over. again. Sometime.  Somehow.

Sweet, sweet company

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Maypole – all about fertility – on ‘The island’ in Sweden

After almost 2 weeks in Athens and everyday filled with some medical procedure, drama or other event I was champing at the bit to leave and was starved for company.

The fact that I had stayed the extra time (I had had to guesstimate my time when I had booked my tickets as I had NO idea how long everything would take – a rough idea wasn’t quite right, so I was glad that I had booked the extra days),  meant I was able to head to Serum every 2 days after the transfer to receive ‘butt shots’ (progesterone), that I was unable to do myself.  After 3 shots, I was very happy to leave.

I must say I was pretty damn ecstatic to discover non-alcoholic beer (thank god!), to get me through the long list of rules that I had to partake in:

  • No swimming (this was a tough one)
  • No baths
  • No excess sun (a bit hard when it is between 38-45 degrees each day)
  • No getting dehydrated (again – a bit difficult…my BPA free, squishy, roll up water bottle became my best friend and was attached to my bag everyday)
  • No penatrative sex (well, I wish that was even an issue)
  • Gentle exercise: no running (definitely NOT a problem…although by the end of the 2 weeks I was desperate for any kind of exercise!)

And don’t forget the myriad of pills and that elusive injection that dictated my schedule each day.

So with a 2 week wait ahead of me and the ‘No fun list’ dictating my every move and being something I HAD to stick to, I was so relieved to be heading to Sweden to meet up with my brother, my brother from another mother and some of my gorgeous friends.

It was the best thing for me to be around so many positive, fun, amazing and caring people and to chat about what I had been through (and was still going through), was a relief in itself.  To be around people was the best feeling.

I was lucky to be busy enough to forget about my ‘ordeal’ and to have time to unwind and be myself again, not some person going through something awful.

I was also very fortunate to be around 2 people who had been struggling to get pregnant (a couple), and to talk about it to people who truly understood was such a blessing.

Sweden offered many alternatives to alcohol and I was spoilt for choice – it will be hard to go back to Beijing where there isn’t much in that respect out in restaurants and bars, unless you want fizzy drink.  I always felt like part of the group and never felt left out – apart from when we went to ‘The island’ and everyone was doing amazing bombs off the wharf and swimming.  My wading up to my thighs technique and dunking my hair in and flicking it back to get wet was perfected to a tee.  Not quite a ‘Wella’ ad but it did the trick.

My gorgeous friends had also helped line up a blood test at the 2 week mark (the day I left Sweden), to see if I was pregnant or not and how my progesterone levels were (basically if I needed the 3 extra butt shot injections I was hauling around to each airport with an ice pack attached).

That second week of waiting was exactly what I had needed – thank god for my brother and those amazing friends.  I am truly thankful to them.  If I hadn’t been with them, I think I may have gone insane.

Next stop: results

***On a side note – Sweden (Stockholm), absolutely blew me away – absolutely loved it and would recommend it to anybody!

Like a shooting star

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4 days post transfer, overlooking Athens. I finally felt up to venturing out and about.

No matter how much I convinced myself to stay calm and that things were out of my control, I had an incredibly massive pit in my stomach the closer I got to my appointment time.  I tried to prepare myself for the worst case scenario and I had even looked up flights and boats to other places so I could escape Athens and move forward as quickly as possible.

It is a tough situation to be in when all your hopes are riding on something that is completely out of your control and that is for the most part, a right of a womans existence or life.  Unfairness at it’s peak – how do you cope with that while tying to stay positive but trying to prepare yourself for the worst, just incase?

Through this process I repeatedly and truly wondered if I was actually cut out for this.  I constantly questioned myself.  ‘I am not strong enough for this’,  being a thought that was a regular in my head, popping up and starting the emotional train wreck going again.

I had the longest wait yet in the waiting room (always bring a trusty book – though I had to re-read that chapter again later as I had taken none of it in), and then I was taken to have a blood test to check my Progesterone levels – they need to be high – apparently that’s what some of my pills had been doing.

I was getting to be a pro at blood tests now.  The mid wife laughed as she called me for it and as I proclaimed ‘Awesome, fab, can’t wait’, she told me she had never heard that reaction for a blood draw before.  No shit Sherlock.

After another wait – this was incredibly nerve wracking – more so than the wait to see if my meagre number of eggs had been fertilised.  I didn’t have another chance, I was screwed if it was not a good grade.

I was asked to go up to the illusive 3rd floor – that had to be a good sign right? – this is the procedure room floor – no offices in sight.  I went through the same routine as the retrieval with the full gown, although I was pleased I was allowed to have my top half remain covered which made the ‘hospital shuffle’ much easier this time.

The embryologist appeared – and SUCCESS!!!!  My little embryo had continued to fertilise and although it wasn’t at day 5 (which means it would be a blastyocst and have a better chance), for a day 3 transfer it was excellent quality – NO FRAGMENTATION.  Relief flooded me.  I had an internal celebratory dance party and then it hit me, my god….this was actually about to happen.

It was then into the next room and legs up into my “favourite” stirrups and Penny came in and explained how the procedure would go.  She did a ‘dry run’ of the transfer, meaning that after the usual speculum, she inserted a long, tiny catheter which we could see on the screen.  The mid wife and her really ensured that I could see everything so I was able to see how it worked and  they told me what I needed to look for when the transfer happened.

The embryologist was then told we were ready and came in with an identical catheter which contained my embryo.  It was then inserted and I was told to look for the shooting star and it was exactly that.  It was crazy cool – as they transferred the embryo it looked like a shooting star going across the screen/ my uterus.  Super cool.

The catheter was then removed and they took it away to make sure everything had been transferred and it was empty.  Penny rubbed my belly and said ‘C’mon on blue eyed baby, grow, grow, grow.  She then gave me a photo from the transfer where you can see the little light of the embryo sitting there.  I felt pure elation and awe looking at those pictures, it was all a bit insane and surreal.

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My plastic bag filled with needles and pills

I then needed to transfer to a bed and be wheeled into the nearby cubicle to ‘rest’ while I was delivered a thick wad of notes on the medication and injections (oh god, not more of those!!!!) that I needed to do, detailed right up to the 13th week of pregnancy, if I was lucky enough to make it that far.  As I tried to take in the fact that I had to do daily self injections and had 3 more ‘butt shots’ of Progesterone to do, I lay in a daze.  Thank god I was staying in Athens for a week longer and the clinic would do the shots for me (well the ‘butt shots’), – for the daily ones I was all on my own.

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All laid out – it only took up a quarter of my suitcase – lol!  Major resentment!

When I was allowed to stand and get dressed (around an hour later), I went through the pages with the mid wife a few more times, sat and waited for my supermarket bag full of medication and needles (only 1 months worth), and then asked if they would show me how to do the daily shots.  Long story short – they tried to do it, I told them that “no, I needed to learn” and then as I tried to stab myself 3 fingers from the tummy button, I got very upset (was there any doubt), only put it in a small amount and had to pull it out and then finally pushed it all the way in, pushed down and withdrew.  She told me it was like a little mosquito bite – at that point in time, my arse it was.  She also told me that it was a good idea to alternate sides for the shots in a smiley face pattern – at least something would be smiling! They are all preloaded thankfully.

As I left I was told that my Progesterone levels were excellent – another small win and I was off back to my apartment officially inseminated.

Crazy, just crazy.

Bring on the 2 week mark when I would have my blood test to see what was going on and to tell me if I I needed 3 additional ‘butt shots’ of progesterone – luckily I had trips planned and plenty of awesome people to distract me until then.  Thankfully they are fabulous friends and helped me arrange blood tests both in Sweden and France as I needed to have 2 tests, 2 days apart.  My mind could rest a bit easier with that sorted.

Pregnancy test here I come – never thought I’d be saying that being 33 and single.  My, how things change and how life works out

I AM strong enough for this.  It just took some convincing.  What’s llfe without a little (or a lot), of challenge.

 Although, I still would not wish doing this process alone on my worst enemy.