The road to IVF has rather a lot of speed bumps....

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I'm doing this to save my friends sanity. They have spent 18 months listen to me talk about miscarriages, blood tests, IVF, petri dishes, vaginal scans and other such niceties. I am almost like a touring biology teacher, except I don't really know what I am talking about. So, I have decided to blog - which is a medium unknown to me and will probably end in disaster but none the less, it's worth a try. I am not sure what the outcome should be - is it a cathartic experience for me? A crutch for others who could be going through the same thing or really as simple as stopping my friends going insane with my constant babble about babies and my inability to have one? Well I suppose time will tell... To get to where we are now, and start blogging in the 'proper way' - according to Wikipedia anyway - i.e daily updates and insightful comments (mental note: must work on insightful) I need to go back a little and explain what's been going on in my life. The long and the short of it is I have had 6 miscarriages in 18 months, so now the husband and I are embarking on the great IVF journey. We hope it ends well which will make it great but for now we will call it the long IVF journey. It has to earn it's greatness. I have to mention here that we are already the parents of a 2 1/2 year old son, who was born not only naturally but I was on the pill. I know. As my sister would say, bonkers. I remember distinctly  being told by my gynae after my 3rd miscarriage that a patient of her's 'had 6 miscarriages and then went on to have 5 children.' Not being able to face the thought of 6 miscarriages - nor 5 children now I come to think about it, I went on a major internet search to 'find a cure' ( I like to give myself 10 out of 10 for trying - you'd have thought if there were cure it could be found on google). When that failed, I cried pittifully at my acupuncturist office. I'm not brilliant at public displays of emotion, and frankly was mortified with myself. She pulled out the name of a truly wonderful IVF specialist who worked at  the Prince of Wales hospital here in Hong Kong, and so our journey took a left at the Multiple Miscarriage sign and followed the directions for IVF. Our problem was unravelling to be a Chromosomal one - too many chromosomes in the embryo therefore making it 'incompatible with life.' Chromosomal abnormalities make up about 70% of miscarriages in the first trimester, it's incredibly common to have one. Some women don't even know they have had one if they are not trying for a baby - it can just seem like a late, heavy period. Given that I was peeing on sticks and monitoring my fertile days as fervently as a soldier on sentry duty, I knew every time at 3 weeks that I was pregnant - could probably have even told you the exact time I conceived. As probably could most of my friends given that nothing is sacred when you are trying for a baby. At this stage in the game I had had 2 ERCP's for miscarriages, both revealed Chromosomal Abnormalities (47 XX + 16 for the last one) and one that passed naturally, so we could only speculate as to why that had happened. The obvious solution was chromosomal. I had done my own personal diagnostics as a Nearly Doctor would. To clarify, I think I could be a doctor I just didn't have the A* maths and biology GCSE's required, but if you could be such a thing as Nearly A Doctor, I would be one. I had read about chromosomal screening, but from what I knew it wasn't available in Hong Kong, and even if it were, would it help us? So we went to see the IVF specialist with a feeling of doom mixed with a hint of hope. We thought he would either tell us we had a problem that couldn't be overcome, or that we could start IVF there and then and in 9 months we would have a beautiful baby. As it happens, he didn't tell us either. He said the same as my gynae, 3 miscarriages is technically bad luck, not enough to warrant Chromosomal screening, which at the time he didn't think we could do anyway, so the only thing for it was to get back on the horse and try again. Joy. So the routine of making a baby resumed - it is routine for all those who are trying will know - romance is absolutely out of the question, marks for technical ability and speed of sperm range from 1-10, all post coital chat is centred on if that was 'the one,' while legs are positioned firmly in the air, cycling as though it were the Tour de France. All of this while trying not to feel too desperate at the thought that we were now in the high risk miscarriage category and subsequent pregnancies were highly likely to end in the same way. It does rather take the fun and to a certain extent the point out of it all, and is definitely one of those times where a real life remote control would have been useful - fast forward to the happy ending, if fate decrees there will be one.  We ARE lucky in that I fell pregnant 3 more times, but it sadly took me to lose all three babies before our IVF specialist said 'enough's enough, we need to do IVF.' He said that two days before our 6th baby's heartbeat fluttered it's last, the ultrasound still showing the tiny but visible beat, yet I was already planning the ERCP. I must say at this point - he was not being remotely cruel, he knew us well and knew how I always needed to have the next plan of attack to focus on - otherwise I would focus on the present day reality of yet another baby gone. However, I will never forget the feeling of  horror when I got home and realised that I had given up on this life before it had - what kind of mother was I? How utterly dreadful to mentally check out of the situation before it had even ended itself - did this baby not deserve hope and the support of its mother? In hindsight I see that wasn't the case. I just simply couldn't bear to say goodbye to yet another due date, cancel another already mentally planned christening and to look my husband in the eye and see his sadness. I find that almost impossible - one of the hardest things to deal with. Its a very strange feeling to see the man who protects you, provides for your family, shoulders the burden of responsibility for you when you can't, struggle to make sense of it all. Seeing this big strong man whom I love with all my heart, cry, is at times too much to take, because like it or not, there is part of me that thinks I have failed him. The echoed words of my gynae telling me 'I had a woman who had 6 miscarriages......' rang in my ears. The thought back then that was so abhorrent - to have 6 miscarriages - was now a reality. So, you can see how I could not let the grey mists descend. Instead I chose to put the all too familer wheels of recovery already in motion, turned into the archetypal Brit - stiffened my upper lip - came home and did what any Nearly Doctor would do in times of crisis - googled for a solution. My search didn't come up with much apart from lots of miracle stories of women who had had similar situations to us and their babies had survived. I did let a tiny glimmer of hope back into my heart, but I think deep down I knew it was over. Two days later and another scan showed that the heartbeat had stopped and we were devastated. This pregnancy had been a physical and emotional test of every ounce of strength we had had and we were exhausted. I had been injecting steroids into my stomach daily, had continual morning sickness and I was so tired I was beginning to forget things. We'd had scans twice, sometimes 4 times a week. Both of us were drained and felt as though the past 18 months had come together for one final blow. The loss of all 6 pregnancies hit home and we really did feel desperately sad and unhappy. Our only option was to see if we could find somewhere that did Chromosomal screening, which luckily for us they do in the UK. So we picked ourselves up, booked some flights for 3 weeks later and embarked on our IVF journey.