Well. I can’t believe I’m actually posting this.
There is a tiny baby growing inside of me.
It feels so surreal to type that, to say it. To believe it, even.
Dave keeps calling me Mama Bear. Mummy. His beautiful wife that is carrying his child.
It doesn’t feel real yet. I’m still in shock to be honest.
I’ve been waiting for this day for 637 days. 20 cycles. Oceans of tears shed.
And now it’s finally happened. It’s finally my turn. Our turn.
We’re going to be parents.
I am not naive to the fact that 1 in 4 pregnancies sadly don’t make it. I am well aware that I have 8 more weeks to go until I am out of the woods. But even then there are no guarantees. Late miscarriage, stillbirth. I’m not thinking about it.
I’m realistic. But I’m positive. This baby is for keeps. This baby is sticking around. I’m going to hold this baby in my arms in May 2018.
I should go back to the beginning, really.
On Tuesday, my temperature dropped. Quite significantly so. I thought it could be implantation so I kept my positive pants on. But then on Wednesday, my temperature dropped even more. I was devastated. It was a sure fire sign that my period was imminent. This cycle was a bust. And to top it all off, it looked like I was experiencing a luteal phase defect with it only being 9 days long.
I spent most of that day sad. I met a new friend for coffee, a wonderful, kind lady who blogs about her own IVF journey. She had sadly experienced a miscarriage very recently and it was heartbreaking to meet her and talk. I cried. A lot. She barely cried at all. I wasn’t worthy of her company. I felt selfishly sad, both for her and for me. She was supportive and strong and so deserving of being a mum. We hugged so tightly when we parted. I know she will be a friend for life, even though my news is extremely difficult for her to process right now.
I spent the rest of that day in bed, watching TV and crying. I just felt so sad and low and helpless. Dave laid with me and cuddled me for a couple of hours. He even went out specifically to buy me a chocolate cake to cheer me up. I went to bed that night feeling emotionally exhausted.
On Thursday my temp jumped up a little. Not massively, but enough for me to know my period wasn’t coming that day. I’d made it to 10DPO. That wasn’t too bad. But I was fully expecting my temp to drop again the following day, bringing with it my period.
On Friday, it raised a tiny bit higher. Again, I wasn’t getting my hopes up. But it WAS making me suspicious. By now my boobs were hurting A LOT. But then they do before my period comes anyway. I put it all to the back of my mind and enjoyed a takeaway and a few drinks with friends and Dave that night. I had 4 lemonade-mixed alcoholic drinks with ice and a Chinese takeaway. It was scrummy but a tad greasy. And I took the leftover prawn crackers home for breakfast (one of my disgusting habits).
On Saturday, my temp shot further up. I’ll admit I felt a little bit excited. I told Dave and asked whether I should test or not. He said to do what felt right for me. My instinct was to wait. I hadn’t made it to 13DPO since June 2016 and I thought if my temp is still high tomorrow (Sunday) and I had made it to 13DPO, then I would.
I also didn’t want to test because we were going to be at lunch and at a football match with friends all afternoon. If it was negative I would be in a bad mood, and if it was positive I wouldn’t be able to focus, and I wouldn’t have felt comfortable jumping up and down screaming and chanting in the stands like I normally do.
So I didn’t test.
Dave went to work and I went to a local museum to pick up some (rather heavy) topic boxes for school. I didn’t think anything of it, loading them all up into my car. In fact, they were that heavy that my shoulders, upper back and biceps KILL today. But I’m kind of regretting it now…
We walked to our friend’s house, called by to pick him up and made our way to the bus stop (we get free travel as season ticket holders). But as we rounded the corner and saw the bus already at the bus stop at the top of the hill, we had to leg it. The bastards that are my husband and mate sprinted off without even looking back once to check I was keeping up or even alright!
It wasn’t far, what we ran. Barely 50m, but it was uphill and in the warm sun. I sat on the bus and that’s when I started feeling sick in the pit of my stomach. I tried to distract myself by chatting to Dave and our mate but there were times that the queasiness overcame me. I had to sit back and focus on my breathing.
Once we were off the bus and walking to the pub for lunch I felt much better. But as soon as we got there, which was heaving with supporters, I felt claustrophobic, hot and sick again. I went to the loo and felt better so I went back to the table. Whilst waiting for the food, I found that talking made me out of breath, and again – nauseous. It was weird.
When the food came I was able to eat it, so long as I didn’t think about it. It was simply a tuna melt panini and a Diet Coke but there were times I thought I couldn’t finish it, but I knew that if I didn’t I would be hungry in the middle of the match.
When we started walking to the stadium, I just felt more and more queasy and hot. Like I was going to shit myself or be sick, or both. I asked Dave and our mate to slow down (they’re both ridiculously long legged and I have to trot to keep up with both of them at the best of times!) because walking so fast wasn’t helping my nausea. At one point I had to sit on a wall with my head between my legs breathing deeply. I borrowed my mate’s magazine to fan myself to try and cool down, and then I started feeling weak and shaky. Like my legs were jelly. And my mouth was so dry.
Fortunately we were close to the stadium by now, but then I could start smelling everything. Like salt and vinegar chips and sausage rolls from 200m away. I commented to Dave how it stank and he said he didn’t think it smelt any more than normal. Normally the smell of greasy food like burgers and hot dogs make me salivate, but all I could think about was that I didn’t want to have to smell it for 90 minutes – minimum!
The nausea kept waving over me so I went to the toilet to make myself be sick. But the ladies were full, and I couldn’t do it with people in the other cubicles. I needed privacy. Besides, I didn’t think I was actually going to be sick anyway because my mouth normally floods with saliva when that is about to happen. This time, it was just a feeling. So I decided I had to try and ignore it. Mind over matter.
And tell myself that it was simply last night’s greasy Chinese and that morning’s prawn crackers repeating on me…
I rejoined the others and went into the ground. We sat down in our seats and I just felt completely depleted of energy. I didn’t want to stand up, jump about, shout and chant like I normally do at matches. I stayed sat down for most of it and didn’t chat to the others much if I could help it.
And then I felt really bad cramping in the front of my abdomen, intense lower backache and a stabby vag. I just felt so uncomfortable. It was the feeling I get when I’m on day 1 and 2 of my period, but without the feeling that I was bleeding.
At half time when people around me were eating pies, it was torture. I had a man in front of me eating a steak and kidney pie and a chap to my right wolfing down a chicken and mushroom pie. I had nothing to cover my nose and mouth apart from my hand and wait patiently til they finished them.
When it came to leaving and walking back to the bus stop I just felt like I was out. My period was on its way. I was quiet and tired and just wanted to be laid on the sofa.
After a McDonalds for tea (which, weirdly, I was able to eat without a problem) I curled up on the sofa to try and relieve the backache and cramping. Eventually I went upstairs to watch TV in bed with a cup of tea and a Twix.
I needed a wee so I decided to go, then dipped an internet cheapie stick into the bowl just for the hell of it. Now I KNOW this is NOT what you do, and I have been given grief by my TTC mates because of it haha! The fact it was 10pm with a weak wee, and very little of it too, meant that the chance of a line showing up was very slim. But as it dried, I really thought I could see something.
Naturally, I reached for my phone to take a photo but what I could see wouldn’t show up on the picture. I inverted it to negative and that’s when I could see a shadow of a second line.
Anxious that it was just an evaporation line, I posted it in my secret K Squad Facebook group and that’s when everything blew up.
Ladies were sending me their own edited version of my picture which all clearly showed 2 lines. They berated me for pissing in the loo, not a cup, and begged me – literally begged me – to have another wee (into a cup) and stick a branded test in.
It was a struggle, I didnt need another wee for a start. But the pregnancy hormones must have already been kicking in because only 10 minutes later I was able to do a fairly decent wee in a cup and stick a magical FRER into it.
Immediately, as the strip was drying, the second line showed up. Clear as day. No squinter. 12DPO, 10:45pm, little amount.
My phone was pinging and buzzing and chiming and beeping off the hook when I posted the photo to the group so Dave texted me from downstairs to put it on silent because he could hear it and it was annoying him lol. I texted straight back:
Dave. Get up here. NOW.
I heard him trudge up the stairs. I stood there, in the doorway of the bathroom, in just my thong (I’d stripped off for bed) holding the test and just thrust it at him.
He took it from me. He said “There’s another line. You’re pregnant.” And then started crying. So I started crying. And then we were hugging and kissing and crying and sobbing and laughing and every fucking thing you can imagine.
My phone was still going off the hook. I dipped 3 more brands into the cup – both supermarket and expensive – and all of them came back positive immediately. The best one was the digital: 1-2 weeks.
I private messaged all of my friends, some of whom were already in bed so didn’t see it until this morning. I texted my brother and his girlfriend. And of course, I had to ring my parents. I didn’t care that it was midnight and my ringing them at that time would give them a heart attack!
I tried mum’s mobile first and it was switched off so I knew she would be in bed. So I rang the landline. My parents have a phone next to their bed so she answered it on the second ring, understandably sounding worried.
I can’t remember exactly what I said but it was something along the lines of “Mum, it’s me, I’m fine. I’M PREGNANT!”
Well, there was screaming and wailing and laughter and tears and everything on both ends of the phone.
Then our mate from rang me. He said he knew something was up from how I was earlier in the day. He said he welled up a bit when I texted him the picture of our tests, bless him. He’s been there for me and Dave so much over the last few months. I couldn’t thank him enough for his support. Even though he’s the one who ‘brokered’ the period sex/bum sex deal with me and Dave haha!
I eventually stopped peeing on sticks and we eventually went to bed. I couldn’t sleep of course.
I laid there til gone 1:30am, staring into the darkness, trying to process what had happened over the last few hours.
We were pregnant.
After all the waiting, it was finally our turn. Our lives would never be the same ever again.
And when I posted it on my blog’s social media platforms this morning, I pretty much broke the internet.
My Facebook post has been seen by 1423 people as it stands right now. I’ve had hundreds of comments and dozens of private messages. I have been overwhelmed by such support from hundreds of women worldwide. I’ve cried. I’ve sat numb. I’ve forgotten and then remembered and grinned liked a bloody Cheshire Cat on acid.
There has been a downside to announcing this news, namely close friends of mine who are still in the same TTC boat I was in myself only 36 hours ago, are struggling with the news. And I get that. Completely. I’ll blog separately about that tomorrow.
Tonight I shall go to bed staring at my beautiful 10 tests. I probably won’t get any sleep again tonight. I have to somehow try to concentrate on work tomorrow.
I’m on cloud nine. And my cloud is softly drifting its way to our rainbow that is waiting for us, 9 months on the horizon.
Mother of None is to become Mother of One.
And I love you all xxx