Hi, I'm Pink. I'm completely nuts and you might start to ask
yourself why on earth I would be choosing to procreate when I am so
clearly unbalanced. Well .... it wasn't always like that. I used to
be a sane person, but then we decided that the time was right; we
were trying for a baby. Now I'm not the obsessive type - never have
been, never thought I would be. Wrong! Everyone who tries for a baby
becomes obsessed, if not purely because they become obsessed with
not being obsessed. I'm waffling.
We got married in the summer of 2000 and we started TTC in September
of 2000. I guess I already knew that I had "Women's" problems
because in the last 15 years, I'd been off the pill twice and both
times, I had no periods at all. Not quite right. So, in October
I approached my GP with three months' worth of chart data (I'd been
charting for three months before we started TTC) and told her that
I was pretty convinced that I wasn't ovulating. Only 3 periods,
37 Blood tests, 3 scans, 3 different Gynaecologists, lots of support
from my friends on the BGUK forum and an impending laparoscopy later,
I bring you my monthly journal in our quest to get pregnant.
I post regularly on the forum, so please don't be afraid to post
me a message if you have any questions or feedback.
Number of obsessive baby thoughts this month: 9,832 (and a half)
Number of hours spent on BGUK: 10 (x8)
Number of pregnancy symptoms imagined: 2
Number of symptoms DEFINITELY not imagined: 35
Why am I having so many obsessive thoughts about a drug called Clomid?
Those six letters are what I eat, sleep, breathe and dream at the
moment. I think I'm setting myself up for a fall, as it is only
the very first rung on the fertility ladder. I've been pretty good
this week - trying not to obsess so much - but then I have got a
nice week in the sun with one of my girlfriends to look forward
to this month.
I have my next Gynae appt next week, just before I go on holiday,
but that's just to get Mr.. Pink's sperm tests results (we call
them his "little swimmers"). Hope that's all ok, otherwise
we might not be considered for Clomid. Fingers crossed girls ....
Oh the great NHS. It sounds like the title of a depressive Morrissey
song and to be honest ... I feel a bit that way too. Why, oh why
does it all have to be so complex? I went to my next Gynae appt
which was just to check that Hubby's little swimmers hit the mark
(or so I thought) ... They gave us the great news that his sperm
were "above normal" in quantity and quality and we were
ecstatic. As we got up to leave, the Gynae looked strangely at me
and asked if we wanted to stay for the rest of my appointment. What
appointment? It was just test results... right?
Wrong! They then proceeded to tell me that the Laparoscopy (internal
examination done under a general anaesthetic) which I was told would
be a six week wait was now in fact a six month wait. Then, they
disclosed that after Clomid, they couldn't offer any further fertility
treatment locally and that I would have to go onto a three year
waiting list for one of the London hospitals. I wanted to scream...
instead I just cried. I think the nurse took pity on me, because
she then got some details for me of a consultant who used to work
at the hospital, but who was now private and working locally. I
got home, cried my eyes out, posted a message on BGUK, took strength
in the number of supportive replies, phoned the private consultant
and made an appointment for when I came back from holiday. Not the
best start to a relaxing week in the sun, I'll grant you.
Blissful holiday with girlfriend, let's call her 'Sunshine' because
she managed to cheer me up so much. She's in the medical profession,
which is handy for me because she understand the in-depth details
of my TTC issues. We had a lovely relaxing week in the sun and came
to a few decisions about me. I would go back, have my appointment
with the specialist and tell her to put me on Clomid straight away.
Then I would wait for my Laparoscopy, but hopefully by then, I wouldn't
need one because Clomid would have worked. Two fingers up to the
NHS. Hurrah. I was in control again and as I walked back onto Terra
Firma at London Heathrow, I was a girl with the power to get pregnant.
Well - that blew that theory straight out of the water. I got home,
opened my mail and there it was ..... lurking at the bottom of the
pile of endless mail that awaits when you get back from holiday...
a date for my laparoscopy next week. NEXT WEEK?!!! I couldn't, I
wouldn't, I had plans ... didn't they know? I was that girl who
landed at Heathrow only five hours ago. I was in control again.
So then it hit me ...no I wasn't. Oh my goodness. What now?