Before starting IVF treatment, we were asked to attend a pre-treatment appointment. I had to have an ultrasound scan on my uterus and ovaries as well as a couple of blood tests and hubby had to *ahem* produce a sample for analysis. After this appointment, a report is put together for us with our results and medical history. We have a consultation in March to discuss a treatment plan.
I had researched the place, planned our route and everything so I knew it should take us just under an hour to get there. I factored in 'getting lost' time and 'hubby faffing before we'd left the house' time and decided that leaving at 11 would give us plenty of time to arrive for my 12.30 appointment. When I searched for information about parking availability and charges, I came across a lot of people saying parking was really difficult because of the clinic being based on the same site as a big hospital - however, when I looked at the clinic's Facebook page (which I can't publicly 'like' because that would be a bit more out there than I want) they had information about their new site (the address on the letters) which is on a business estate just off the motorway with ample, free parking. One less thing to worry about. We had got ourselves a little wound up that morning. When stressed, I like to try and control everything, my other half gets very quiet and wound up and then stresses me out. It didn't help that he hadn't slept well the night before (apparently I'd been kicking him in the night and had woken him up, he had then woken the cat up, the cat had then kept him awake... somehow ALL my fault). So we had a mini argument but I kinda had to decide to put a cork in it and not wind him (or myself) up more than needed, especially as my role at the appointment was quite passive whereas he had a task to complete. It was sort of important for him not to be too stressed, otherwise he might not be able to... get the job done.
On the way, I tried to get him to talk about anything, to keep him distracted and chilled. We talked about oil refining... how petrol engines work... how diesel engines work... what red diesel is... how wind turbines work. Pretty safe topics because they have nothing to do with politics, economics, THE FUTURE, nagging, or anything that could be seen as fussing. Also, these are all subjects he is very knowledgeable on and I am not, so I am genuinely interested in his explanations.
The journey was very straight-forward, straight down the motorway and the clinic is about three turns after the motorway slip-road so we didn't get lost at all. Parking was great, and the building is big, well sign posted and easy to recognise - big logo on the windows.
The clinic itself is like a combination of a hotel, a spa and a posh office block. Not really like a hospital at all. Apart from the staff who appear occasionally in scrubs. It's very clean, the receptionist at the front desk is friendly and approachable but not in-your-face over cheerful. She checks us in and explains that my appointment is upstairs and his is downstairs, we can wait together upstairs as my appointment is first. Presumably wanting some peace and quiet, my loving husband chooses to wait downstairs in the 'men's waiting room' while I go upstairs on my own. Probably because he was tired, but I felt a bit like I would have liked him to wait with me upstairs. But never mind.
I went upstairs into the very spacious waiting room, still a lot more like a hotel than a hospital. Very spread out, different areas to wait in with white swivelly chairs, green comfy chairs and white coffee tables with orchids and lush green plants on. There is an area to make tea and coffee with proper branded tea bags and real cups! There are a selection of carefully curated magazines on the tables: health and fitness, gardens, home and decorating magazines. There are no gossip magazines or magazines with pregnant women or newborns on the front. This is deliberate. There are women in this waiting room who have lost babies, women who may be about to be told that there's no point continuing with the pursuit of a pregnancy. The women in this clinic waiting room do not need to see other women's swollen bellies or tiny children. There is a radio on, quietly in the corner, more as a background hum than anything, the staff chatter as they pass each other.
Every member of staff smiled warmly when they caught my eye.
It's a big waiting room, but there weren't many people there. This means that, unlike at the hospital where we struggled to get seats together in the waiting room, there is space between you and the other people, you could almost have your own area in there, you wouldn't have to interact with anyone if you didn't want to. When I came into the waiting room there was an older woman with her adult daughter and two other couples, one of whom had a toddler with them. The couple with the toddler went into one of the rooms to see someone and, when they came out, the little boy was playing on a chair in the waiting room. He was very cute, but it was heartbreaking. When his parents left with him, my eyes met those of the other couple in the waiting room and we both sighed. The woman's eyes looked so sad. I looked away from her and glanced at the older lady who was waiting for her daughter to come out from her appointment and she smiled at me with the tight lipped sad smile that people use when they know what you're feeling. She must have had the same conversations with her daughter that my mum and I have had. She must know how I feel, or at least she understands what I am likely to have been through because of what her daughter has been through.
A nice nurse came and called me through into a small, calmly lit ultrasound room, she went through a few details about me, name, date of birth, what day of my cycle am I on, have I had an internal scan before? I took my leggings and underwear off and assumed the position, on the tilted chair with my ankles in the stirrups. I kept my socks on. Top tip: KEEP YOUR SOCKS ON. Your feet get really cold dangling around in the air, these exams take a little while and it's hard to relax with chilly toes.
When ladies who are pregnant have an ultrasound scan, the technician uses that little handheld scanner on their belly. This is because they have a full bladder and the womb filled with fluid and baby is pushed up out of the pelvic cavity. When you are not pregnant, the angle doesn't work to use the external ultrasound, so I get to experience the wand.
The wand is literally a probe, and they put a condom on it. Nice. But to be honest, very little about this baby making process is romantic anymore. It's pretty clinical from here on in.
So she 'gently' inserted the wand - fyi I don't think medical staff understand the idea of 'gentle' - and an image appeared on the screen. Which is kind of fascinating, I've never seen an ultrasound of my insides. The technician talked me through the image on the screen, showing me the outline of my uterus, the lining that's in there. She said the lining is pretty thick which could mean I was due to have a period (since I was on day 40 something at that point, it could well have been), she took a couple of measurements of the lining and then moved on to the ovaries. She moved the wand to look at my ovaries in a way that I can only describe as 'trying to find reverse gear in an unfamiliar car'. Not painful but... a definite pulling sensation. So, right ovary appeared on the screen and there were lots of little bubbles. She explained that these are cysts and there are a lot of them. That may mean I have polycystic ovaries. I asked if this would be a problem and she said not really, it might just mean that they will give me a lower dose of stimulation drugs so as to not over-stimulate my ovaries. Hyper-stimulation can be painful and cause problems. She took several images of my right ovary and said she'd count up the cysts later. Side-note it seems that cysts, follicles and eggs are very similar things. Eggs are microscopic and are inside follicles. Cysts can be follicles or cysts can just be little sacks of water. And they are little, each of these cysts were less than half a centimetre. So, changing gear again, she found my left ovary. On the screen, there appeared a clear picture of one massive follicle - about two and a half centimetres, this egg looks ready to drop. Apparently this is a good thing. The size of that follicle looked like I might expect to ovulate shortly.
The confusing part of that is that: ovulation should occur two weeks before a period, on a random scan (at a point outside of a normal 28 day cycle where there's no way of knowing what stage of the cycle you're in) you should see either a maturing follicle or a thick uterine lining. Not both. So thanks for that body.
Anyway, the technician finished the scan, removed the probe at the perfect angle not to generate a fanny fart (they really have that down now, it is so stressful to worry about, but it never happens anymore, because they must teach the technique now). The technician left the room and I got dressed.
Then, I had to have a blood test and a chlamydia screening. The chlamydia screening involved peeing in a tiny bottle: pretty challenging to be honest.
So, I have scars from years of self-harming which was my - granted, unhealthy - coping mechanism for mental health issues. It has been a long time since I have self-harmed and there are a lot of people supporting me, one contributing reason to me stopping was that I wanted to have a baby, I knew I shouldn't even try to get pregnant while I was still having trouble with hurting myself. Although it has been a long time, and self-harm is something I have under control now, I do have lasting scars, particularly on my arms. I have very pale skin, hubby calls it thin skin, and scars appear very red and don't heal well. This is the same for accidental cat scratches, grazes and scrapes as it is for my self-harming scars. I still have visible red scarring from childhood injuries. But, I do understand that it probably looks pretty recent on my arms. The nurse saw some of the scars when she was taking blood. I don't try to hide them, I just don't show them off either. I wear long sleeves around all but my husband and occasional VERY close friends. In a blood test, you do have to roll up your sleeve, so she saw it and asked about them. She asked what they were, I said I used to self-harm. She said that they look quite fresh, I explained that I scar badly, and that it's been years since I self-harmed. She asked if it is still a problem, had I had any counselling or support. I explained that I have a very supportive GP, a psychiatrist who knows about the fertility stuff and who has already assured me that I will get psychiatric support during pregnancy and after the baby is born, a very supportive husband and family. I am actually in a better position than many women at risk of Post-Natal Depression, because I will be given pre-emptive support.
I did feel judged. I felt frustrated with myself. I'm angry with me from thirteen years ago who decided it was a good idea to start hurting myself. I'm worried that this will represent a barrier to me being able to have a child. It upsets me that if I could get pregnant without medical assistance, this wouldn't even be an issue, but because I can't, every decision I've ever made is being weighed up to decide whether I should be allowed to have a child.
Looking back at it, and having discussed it at therapy, I don't think she was trying to find reasons to block me from treatment. I think she cared, and wanted to understand what was going on for me. They offer counselling at the clinic. I think we may take them up on that.
After I was done being probed, stabbed and peeing in a bottle, I was allowed to go downstairs to see my husband. He was still waiting for his appointment, in the men's waiting room. This area was a lot smaller, with more men focused magazines like FHM. He was taken down to the 'comfortable, private room' to produce his sample by a friendly, and pretty, nurse. He came back about ten minutes later looking as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.
Then we were done and could go home. On the way home, I coaxed him to tell me about the 'room'. He said there's a porn audition style couch and posters of bikini clad women on the walls and proper dirty magazines. As in, the ones where you can see EVERYTHING. He said in a way it was kind of sleazy, but maybe that's what some men need to help them... perform in unfamiliar surroundings. I guess that's why it is out of the way, where it is, and the nice bit of the clinic is upstairs, open clean and comfortable. Also, the labs are down the corridor from the 'room' so they can wiz the jizz straight into the lab - time is of the essence you know.
We went out for lunch on our way back home. We don't eat out together very often. It seems like we mostly have lunch or dinner out as a debrief session after fertility appointments and I cry at him across the table. I did get upset. As I said, I hold things in so that I can get through the hard bit, then I have a bit of an emotional purge. He was totally fine, really great in supporting me and making me feel better. It's just the emotional exhaustion of so much hope and expectation and worry and then it's all just over. Until the next appointment. So now I can build up to that.
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