Episode 5: Diving into the Unknown
Finally, after two years and eight months, the moment arrived. Our first in person-appointment to discuss the treatment protocol for our first cycle of IVF. My hopes were building already, sure that this was the salve to our aching desire to be parents. The nurse was fantastic, explaining everything in detail and answering all of our questions, following up with a multitude of documents uploaded to a patient portal for us to read and digest in our own time. One unanticipated task was thinking about our consents, for example, what happens to any embryos if one of us dies, and would we allow left-over embryos to be used for training or even other prospective parents? Thankfully we were on the same page with our responses, but these were quite challenging scenarios. As throughout this process, my envy of couples who can conceive naturally welled once again; they don’t have to think about these things; they don’t have to worry about what happens to those precious embryos.
And so treatment began. First came Norethisterone, a synthetic progesterone tablet, taken twice daily for ten days in my case, to allow the doctors to take control of my menstrual cycle. Luckily I didn’t really have any side effects at this stage, and was able to carry on working and doing life as normal during this time. After stopping Norethisterone, you can expect your period about two to three days later and for me, aunt flo visited on day three. Now for the slightly icky part, the first internal scan comes on day two to four of your period. This was not a very dignified affair, a mess of menstrual blood and lube left on the couch roll once the nurse was finished. But thankfully things appeared as they should, my ovaries ‘quiet’ and my endometrial lining thin, the perfect blank canvas on which to commence treatment.
Next came ovarian stimulation, with the aim of creating as many mature eggs as possible, to increase our chances of achieving a viable embryo for transfer. For me, this consisted of once daily Ovaleap injections, containing a man-made version of the hormone FSH, which stimulates egg production in women. All of the injections are taken in the tummy, in the areas beside and below your belly button. I was nervous about injecting myself, even after the practice and demonstration with the nurse in our clinic appointment, but luckily Ovaleap comes in a pen-type injector that makes administering it quite straight forward. The actual needle was also much thinner and shorter than I had imagined, so starting the Ovaleap went down without a hitch, to my surprise. Five days after starting the Ovaleap, Fyremadel injections were also added to the regime, again one per day. Fyremadel stops the body from prematurely ovulating and releasing all the juicy eggs you are working so hard to grow. These were traditional looking syringes and quite uncomfortable to administer. I was soon playing a game of where haven’t I injected yet, to find the spots that weren’t already sore from being jabbed.
Alongside the act of injecting oneself, the other physical and mental side effects of the hormones began to take their toll on me and my work. At that time, I was working in intensive care and across surgical wards of my local NHS hospital, an already quite stressful way to spend my weeks. Added to that now came intense PMS-type symptoms: low mood, emotional lability, headaches and bloating, my oh my the bloating. Usually, our bodies produce one egg, from one ovary per month. The aim in IVF is to create as many as possible to increase the chances of ending up with some good quality embryos. At times, I could’ve sworn I could feel every one of those eggs developing and expanding inside me, swelling my tummy and creating a feeling of constant tightness and pain. After battling on for a bit at work, I decided to ask my GP to sign me off for two weeks, to complete the stimulation, egg collection and embryo transfer. This is the first time I have ever been signed off work for anything and it felt like a huge mental leap for me, but I just don’t think I would’ve served my patients well in that time, feeling physically ill, emotional and moody as I did.
A few days into this time off, I decided to try to walk into town, to move my body, free my mind and just generally feel the joys of early Spring sunshine and the benefits this can bring. Big mistake.. I wore my old faithful jeans, soft and supple after years of washing, and previously my most comfortable go-to for a casual day. By the time I had completed the twenty five minute walk to the town centre, I was so uncomfortable in said jeans, I headed directly to H&M, bought their cheapest tracksuit bottoms and changed in the shopping centre toilets. This rather took the shine off my little trip, so I grabbed a (decaf) coffee to go and headed straight back home again. Even sipping my coffee made my tummy feel so bloated and uncomfortable that I couldn’t finish it. I felt like a heffalump, turgid and round. I got home after what felt like one of the longest walks of my life and collapsed on the sofa. ‘If this is what IVF feels like, what must it feel like to be pregnant?’ I thought to myself. I still wonder about that fifteen months later…
