Perhaps IVF is the answer?

For any couple who are trying for a baby will know the feeling of test day! My heart full of hope as I rip open that clear blue in Sainsbury’s disabled toilet not wanting to wait till I got home. Some days I took more than one test and tried to hide the box from my husband who thought I was nuts!
All my friends announced their honeymoon pregnancies and little ‘accidents’ with a light hearted ‘It just happened on the first time’ and ‘We weren’t even trying’ Yeah I didn’t need to know that but cheers.
After a year and a half of ovulation kits my consultant suggested IVF was a possibility for us and it was heartrending. I always pictured the IVF patient as being much older like 45, career woman who lives in Sutton who just never got round to having a family. I was 28 and didn’t see this coming- It’ not in my life plan you see.
University degree and 3 fantastic years of fun- check
3 Bedroom house in sort after village- check
Loving husband who wants the same things as me- check
Cool job that I actually enjoy- check
Can I have a lovely baby now please- no waiting? No?
We finally walked into our clinic and I was pleasantly surprised to see some under 30’s!
No one talks or even looks at one another in the waiting room but I observed joyfully that most of the couples were young like us and I couldn’t help but wonder what their story was and how they were coping.
I need to tell you now that our first cycle didn’t work- After a week of crying and depression ‘why me’ blah blah blah we signed up for cycle number 2.
I started hormone injections on New Year’s Day 09 with mammoth excitement and anticipation of the thought that we were young and why wouldn’t it work?
On day 10 the hormones really kicked as I struggled to cope with constant mood swings and bouts of uncontrollable crying. I distinctly remember one occasion when the dishwasher was full and it felt like the end of the world. Yes the dishwasher.
How was I going to unload this after what I’ve been through? One phone call to my stressed trader friend in Canary Warf and we were both in fits of laughter! The crazy bitch hormones really were on form that week.
I always took the piss out of my mother’s menopausal hot flushes- not anymore! I was experiencing them up to 8 times a day.
As my husband took off on a work conference I moved the injection kit and myself into my folks place for a bit of TLC.
My tummy was sore from the jabs and I was off the booze so nights out with the few remaining friends who didn’t have babies just weren’t pleasurable anymore.
I felt like I didn’t sign up for this shit
Recovering from egg collection was the most painful few days I’ve experienced. My best friend took me back for implantation where I lay on the bed with my pedicured feet in stirrups (Anything to make yourself feel nice at this point is worth doing) as I waited for my little embryo’s to be inserted into my uterus. We decided after the first cycle was unsuccessful we would play Russian roulette and implant 2 this time.
The consultant asked ‘Would I mind a student observing?’- What some spotty nosed youth? – ‘Yeah why not just get me preggers and make sure they don’t fall out when I stand up’
In walks a 24 year old George Clooney lookalike-Tall, Handsome, sexy. And in the line of sight of you know what. Not my best moment- My mate seemed amused though as I tried to grasp one single element of looking demure and lovely, legs a kimbo!
As we left the clinic all I could think about was that we were going to be one of the lucky ones. After driving to the church where we got married to say a little embryo prayer (All my idea- my husband would never go for any of that shit) we went home to start the anxious two week wait.

So as I type this you are probably wondering what happened- I’m currently 10 days away from my due date- Tired, fed up, huge but that’s another blog!
Success at last, I’m expecting one healthy baby on January 30th
In conclusion all the night sweats, humiliations and dishwasher tantrums were 100% worth it!

LIFE CRISIS

How do you juggle two little people two full time jobs two different childcare settings and try and live life at the same time ? And why is it every other thirty something manages to read the weekend papers and therefore knows 'where' to holiday, what the solution is to the latest international crisis and is tweeting blogging and cyber living like email is soooooo 1990 ? Can you believe that I have only just got an iphone, and am writing my first ever blog ?? How does everyone else have time to do this stuff and maintain a serene appearance ?
I am lucky - my fellow bloggers are dealing with multiples of small people who require feeding every couple of hours and who are also averse to sleeping through the night. I am not a first timer so have an idea of the chaos that will ensue for the next three years, and to top it off, my wee one, the oldest baba in the group, is now feeding 4 hourly and sleeping for 11 hours at night in her cot (with obligatory middle class grobag), with minimal crying at any given time. (This is a confessional as I hadn't the heart to tell my fellow bloggers this when I saw them yesterday). And yet here I am still sleep deprived because I insist on doing things like writing children's thank you christmas cards in the middle of the night and ordering my supermarket online shop as we have run out of toilet rolls and it is simply the end of the world.
My point is this - I can't keep up - with anything. How do other people ???
I have started to think about my return to work and it fills me with dread. Not because I don't want to go back to work - quite the opposite actually. I am looking forward to reinstating that part of my identity. The stomach churning worry comes from knowing that life is about to get about 100x more complicated than it already is - and that is when I am on maternity leave - ha ! I know I have a newborn but the truth is despite the sick (she is a sicky up milk babe) she is no trouble ever since we got through the first colicky 8 weeks.
Do we all put ourselves under this pressure or am I more gullible than most ?? Answers on a blog post please.... Over and out.

Identity

I finally did it! Replaced my sexy single girl car in racy red with a sensible 5 door family hatchback with boot space for a pushchair. That's the last piece of my pre-baby identity gone. Here's some of my old identity losses so far:

Collection of lovely fashion stilettos - boxed away (my feet have gone up almost half a shoe size)
Absorbing video game collection - gathering dust (as if I have time to sit down for 2 hours in front of a PS3)
Bulk box of Alka Seltzer Extra Strength - thrown out (Im not going to be able to party so hard that I need hangover cure)

Now I'm officially a mum, haha, with the family car, the oversized handbag with room for baby toys, the magnolia painted walls (cheap n easy for touch ups), and the obligatory under-eye shadows. I looked into my daughter's eyes earlier and said, look what you've done, you've made me buy us a sensible car, I hope you're pleased with yourself little lady. In response she looked at me smugly and pooped.

She's brilliant :)

Sleep is the word...

I though I was getting along fine without much sleep until people started pointing out to me how tired I probably was.

To be fair, I can't blame them for pointing it out, I was, at the time trying to turn left at a cross roads while my traffic light was still on red and I had my precious girls in the car with me. Then I reversed into an old man in his car behind me wondering what was beeping at me (the reversing beepers)

I've been trying to get sleep when I can, like when my eldest is asleep or at nursery but that seems to coincide with the youngest's feeding/ gripy times. I finally had a window of opportunity today only for next door's child to began his swan song which usually last for quite some time so blink and I'd missed my window.

So.. this may make me feel better or significantly worse, but how much sleep are you ladies getting? I suspect two under two will win this one hands down but, taking account of any and all naps in a 24 hour period, and ignoring very good or very bad nights, how much sleep are you, on average, getting? And how much is your record for one stretch?

I am getting between 4 and 5 hours a night and my best yet is 3 hours in one sleep.

x

Visitors: The Benevolent Plague

People really do come out of the woodwork when they sniff out the arrival of a new baby, don't they. Not that I'm adverse to the cascade of well wishing cards and tissue-wrapped gifts of yet more pink baby grows, but surely, this can't go on forever! All I do from day to day is breast feed, change nappies and receive guests.

I am beginning to feel like I have given birth to the Messiah. I sent my dad up on a ladder earlier to check if there's a star attached to our chimney. I'm sure Mary and Joseph never had so many long-staying visitors to deal with, all of whom require refreshments and polite hospitality. I'm beginning to run out of teabags, not to mention tolerance towards the great unwashed masses. I see every new visitor that passes my threshold as a walking talking virus mobile. I imagine shiny swine flu molecules on their hands and fluorescent flecks of the common cold strain lurking up nostrils as they paw and breathe all over my fragile newborn angel.

If this relentless visiting schedule is comparable to the birth of baby Jesus, then I wish some of my guests would take a leaf out of the Three Wise Men's book. Take a bow, leave your frankensence and myrrh and then bugger off.

No doubt I sound irrational and unreasonable. I probably am. It's a result of hormones, sleep deprivation, no time alone with my baby, and an obligation to welcome my ex partner's hordes of extended family into my home day after day.

New plan: Place sign on front door that says "Away on babymoon. Back in 2 weeks."




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Balti and a Bonk

Thats what Brenda the widwife told me to go home and do after my 2nd sweep!

The constant buzz of the phone "any news"...do close family really not think we would let them know when baba No2 arrives! Does that really annoy you too?!

Having convinced myself that this baby was coming early and before christmas (of course to fit into our schedule), here i am on the 2nd Jan....the size of a house, with the bun still cooking! As every day passes, i am now panicking about the size of the blighter. Baba No1 was a healthy 8lb 9oz...they are saying 9lb plus....ahhhhhh!!!

Balti- tick

Bonk- tick

Oh and all the others- TICK!!!!

The Transition

When I attended my NCT childbirth class back in November in my effort to be perfectly prepared for the birth, I remember giggling along with the rest of the class when our host described the infamous part of labour known as The Transition. For those of you who don't know, it's just before the pushing part when your uterus is contracting up, your baby is heading down and women tend to go just a little bit mad.

As I heard stories of women deciding to give up and demanding to go home, I had smiled smugly at the person next to me, thinking, Oh, that will never happen to me because I am a cool calm educated woman who has nerves of steel, not to mention a fully paid up NCT subscription

In reality, as I lay there in the delivery room on Christmas Eve, sprawled out face down in a pile of wipe clean bean bags with my bum in the air, I was a little less than rational. Here's a few of my favourite transition ravings!

"Fetch me a doctor, a surgeon, I need a surgeon now! I demand to see a surgeon!"

"No, no, I've had enough of this! I'm going home to get an epidural!"

"Can't you hoover her out?"

"I can't push. You do it."

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Hormonal Rage Attack!

I have been attending weekly antenatal yoga classes since July in the hope I can truly achieve mind over matter when the big day comes. The sessions are held at a private home in a peaceful nearby village, and after an hour of guided meditation, breathing techniques and twister-style stretches, I feel like a super yoga guru, ready to embrace serenity in the face of any challenge.

That's all very well. But from the moment I leave the class it's a real struggle to maintain my spiritual harmony when I am living at home with my parents and fighting waves of pregnancy hormonal angst on a daily basis. It seems to me that every time I attempt to have my daily meditation I am interrupted, and that makes me so mad! Last night I had just settled into the bath, surrounded by lit candles and the new age trance melodies of a relaxation CD. It was tough but I really focused on breathing and positive visualisation. Then my mom shouted my name from somewhere on the other side of the house. I tried to ignore it. But she carried on shouting, because apparently that's easier than just coming to speak to me in person. After the 5th call, I snapped, and sat upright in an angry tidal wave of bath water.

"WHAT?"
"Do you want this cup of tea?"

I was near to tears. My meditation was broken. My positive birth visualisation had gone to hell. My heart was pounding and every muscle in my body was tense.

She poked her head around the bathroom door. I splashed the water in frustration, "If you had bothered to come check you would have realised I was trying to meditate, which is completely ruined now. You have completely destroyed my connection to my inner chi. Why do I even bother to try to relax in this house!"

I hooted in anguish and burst into tears. It was all too much. If only I hadn't ever started that yoga course I wouldn't be trying to meditate in the first place, and therefore wouldn't be interrupted, and wouldn't even be so dismally aware of my own inability to relax. I hate yoga.

(until next week when I will attend class once more and will love it more than anything)

Metamorphosis

When I was 29 I used to joke that I was an international woman of mystery, a playgirl who pops over to the Caribbean, runs away to sea with handsome French men, adventures fearlessly through the jungles of Malaysia, and thinks nothing of a little sabbatical in the wilds of Alaska.
Now I am a heavily pregnant 30 year old with a belly of epic proportions, temporarily stuck living with my parents on a distinctly non-epic residential street which lies on the outskirts of a slightly dismal West Midlands town populated in most part by OAPs and townies. I am single (through choice) and my biggest adventure of last week was a trip to Mothercare to purchase breast pads and nipple cream.
This time 2 years ago I was drinking cold Coronas, sporting a lovely tan, hanging in my favourite bikini on the back of a speedboat moored in the turquoise waters of Grand Cayman. Now I am sipping my decaf tea and deciding whether to watch the X Factor or the BBC's Sunday night period drama. How times have changed. It only took one heady night of careless passion and I was obliged to hang up my well-travelled flip flops and sarong in favour of sensible shoes and maternity knickers.