Reading all the other blog posts of other women who are struggling with infertility is really fascinating. The diversity in detail of everyone’s stories and battles is incredible and I learn so much every day from everyone, which is remarkable when you consider we are all strangers.
In some ways it helps to give me context to my own pain and reassurance that I’m not completely crazy (or if I am, you’re all joining the crazy ship with me), and it helps me realise that this in indeed hard.
The past few days I have really struggled. I’m still struggling. I’ve tried to work out the root cause of the sadness and I think it’s mainly fear. I am so utterly terrified that this little one won’t stick in here and keep on growing. As my miscarriage in December was a missed miscarriage (or silent miscarriage) I literally had no idea anything had gone wrong until I had my scan at about 8.5 weeks. With a regular miscarriage you get all the nasty stuff like cramps and bleeding. With a missed miscarriage, the embryo just stops growing or the heart stops beating – usually due to a chromosomal defect (or that’s what they say; I actually think no one has any definitive idea).
I have my first scan coming up on Thursday and I think I’ve developed some kind of terror at what it might bring. I mentioned to someone else in one of my comments yesterday that I feel like I’ve got an embryo-based version of Schrödinger’s cat going on right now. The embryo is both alive and dead in my mind until I have the scan on Thursday, and my pea brain can’t process this.
I can’t be happy until I know everything is okay.
I found a new statistic yesterday that says if the doctor finds a heartbeat at a scan at 6 or 7 weeks then there is only a 5% chance of miscarriage. I was quite pleased with this statistic and shared it with hubby who then rightly, but quite brutally pointed out we had a scan at 6 weeks last time, had a heartbeat and still had a miscarriage. Hmmm.
I also met today with my friend who has a beautiful 15 month old son from IVF and she’s a doctor. She told me that if you can get to 9 weeks, the risk of miscarriage drops quite a bit and then drops a whole lot further past 12 weeks. This cheered me up, even though I’m only now edging on 7 weeks (two weeks is currently feeling like two years).
In the past two days I have also relented and told two people about our news. The second was my friend today, but I told her in the context that there is nothing to celebrate yet as it’s far too early. And I told my Mum on Monday. My Mum lives across the other side of the world in my home country and she has incurable leukaemia. She was diagnosed almost 4 years ago and told she has 6 months to live. Well clearly the stats are not always right as she is still kicking about and – largely – living a regular life in between treatments.
Unfortunately her blood test results came back this time and they are a whole lot worse. While not a massive shock as we have known this was possible and even inevitable for a long time, she has been doing so well that we all kind of hoped that she would keep on going forever. I have a deep and painful feeling in my bones that things may have taken a turn for the worst. But just like me and my embryo, we have to wait and see. Obviously if she does take a dramatic turn for the worse I will return home – regardless of what’s going on with me – and stay with her. So I thought our cautiously optimistic news would give her something nice to think about and perhaps dilute the impact of the bad results. Also, I’d really, really love for her to stick around and see her grand-baby.
So many things to wish for during this period and to be strong for.