Written 30th October, 2014.
It’s fair to say that I am somewhat apprehensive about this morning’s hospital visit. This will be the fist scan for this pregnancy and, if it goes well (the scan and the cooperation from the prescription-giving powers that be), I will get my supply of heparin injections. Then I will have to inject myself daily, which is not particularly something that I’m looking forward to doing. But there are many bridges to cross on this quest before I get to that stage.
The weekend brought a little spotting, which was alarming, and I sent my husband out on Sunday morning to fetch a digital test (off he dutifully went to join the Whitby Goths on the walk of shame, looking for an open chemist). I was convinced that I had a) imagined the whole thing, or b) it was already over and the spotting was an ominous sign. The digi proved hopeful, however, showing that the numbers had going from 1-2 weeks to 2-3 weeks, over the time period of one week (amazing!).
The lovely RMC ladies on my regular Mumsnet forum were sending their support and advice, and many of them have had similar issues with spotting which they put down to the cyclogest, which can cause irritation (specifically, the way you take it – enough about that). Hopefully this was the cause. I also emailed Professor Brosens at Coventry who, wonderfully, emailed me back on a Sunday (!!) and told me spotting was reasonably common and to increase the cyclogest dosage from 200mg twice daily to 400mg at the same frequency.
So, today we are off to Local Services for our first scan. I don’t like this hospital. The people are nice enough, but they just don’t know what to do with me. They have protocols for MC, but I’ve been there, done that and got (several copies) of their bloody leaflet. I am taking my letters and paperwork, and if anyone there suggests that they will come blindly at me with a spoon (my description of how an ERPC is performed), I will be on the first train down to UCLH!
But let’s not be pessimistic. It could be OK. I was listening to my relaxation recording last night, and trying to visualise the happy outcome I want. The trouble is, I don’t know what that would look like. To me, the disconnect between being pregnant and actually having a bump, much less a baby, seems, if you’ll pardon the expression, inconceivable. A couple of people (pharmacists and such) have already congratulated me when I’ve been picking up my prescriptions and filling in forms. I tell them, thank you, but there’s a very long way to go yet. This is my 4th pregnancy, and I have nothing but an education in fertility and a pile of words to show for it.
Every time is different. Maybe this time is different… Dare I let the hope in?