It's been a while since I last posted. For a number of reasons, which I wont go into right now, A and I have not yet begun actively trying and we preferred to blog when we actually had something to say. Well, now we are looking at a change in the starting line-up, so here I am again.
When we first started talking about the practicalities of getting pregnant, A mentioned that her relative had volunteered to be a donor shortly after she first came out to him. I had been especially taken with the idea of being able to see that bit of her in our baby. From that point on, our baby talks had always begun the same way: 'if M agrees...'
Around that time, we had also started researching a sperm bank online as a back-up plan. I wasn't quite sure if the practicalities of ordering from the international distributor was the intimate experience we were hoping for and some part of me had wondered that if by looking we were admitting there would come a time when we would have to reach that compromise; and if so, at what stage we would need to decide that we were ready to do that. It was at this time that we met R.
R very quickly became a close friend of ours when he moved to England from his native Spain last year. So when he came to me one day voicing his concern at my distraction, I was able to trust him enough to confide our hopes of starting a family and my upset at the recent diagnosis of PCO that would make our attempts that little bit more complicated. I explained my frustration at how the NHS would not subsidise fertility treatment for same-sex couples and how I refused to compromise by continuing as a 'single' woman. When I told him how much it would cost privately, adding the cost of buying and shipping sperm, and voiced irritation at how much that would eat into our baby-savings when all we really needed was a healthy man to donate his sperm on the understanding that we did not intend him to be a legal parent, R volunteered to be a donor. Focused on wrestling a heavy delivery cage at the time, I didn't quite register what he had said until I stopped and took a breather.
Thing is, A and I are quite happy about the fact that our current donor is a relative of A's - thus assuring A a biological tie to the baby. So why is this even an issue? Well, to be honest, A just isn't as concerned about donor choice as I am. And the more I have time to think about it, the more I just want to settle down with A and our baby (Felix. An inside joke and the pre-birth name of our future bump) regardless of where he/she came from. As I often say in reference to my step-father, your real parents are the people who raise you. Whoever the donor is, our baby will be just as much A's as mine. So with that in mind, I took a closer look at R.
R is apparently quite attractive, if the reactions of our younger female customers are any indication (I'm a poor judge of male beauty) He's educated to university level and speaks three languages with a fair degree of fluency. He's interested in history and culture, has a healthy appetite, build and attitude and he's over 5' 5". He meets all of our requirements. Plus, he has dark hair and eyes just like A and his ethnicity is in part similar to A's. That he lives 30 minutes walk from our flat is also a point to take into serious consideration.
Though it hung in the air between us for a long time after that, nothing more was said about it till last week, when the three of us went out for a drink to mark the temporary break in R's studies. At the end of the evening, R spoke seriously to the both of us, saying that he had been thinking over the situation we were in for the past few months and researching my condition in order to better understand how he could help. He asserted that he would still like to be a donor, if we were interested and that he was willing to make whatever commitments we felt were necessary to conceive our baby. We were touched by his offer and expressed how grateful we were but I still needed to be sure he knew what he was saying - without the alcohol in his system. We agreed to meet for dinner a week later to discuss the possibility further. During that time, R could research and ask us as many questions as he needed to be comfortable with his decision.
When R turned up for dinner this week, not only had he decided to proceed, he had spent an impressive amount of time and effort researching his responsibilities as a donor, from diet and exercise to lifestyle and potential timetables. He had also attempted to visit a sexual health clinic to discuss getting his 'boys' tested but had missed their opening times. Satisfied about his understanding of this undertaking and his commitment and haven spoken about our vision of his role in our child's life as 'Tio' (uncle) we have decided to proceed with R, working with three donations a cycle once his labs have cleared.
*Waves (potentially) the last glass of wine* To the next step. Cheers!
Friday, 24 May 2013
Sunday, 13 January 2013
Happy holidays!
Christmas and new year with the family went well, despite a rough start.
Following an argument with my sister on Christmas eve - and I'm not going to get into that right now - A and I left for Spain feeling disappointed that something had happened to dampen our mood before we'd even reached the airport, for a holiday we'd been planning and looking forward to for months. Still, we had a hot drink at the airport and decided that we were just going to enjoy our holiday and use the time to unwind from the stresses of the last few months instead of brooding.
I admit, I did have to excuse myself the first time I saw A holding the new baby. I'd been fine when her brother and sister-in-law presented little S but the sight of my partner holding her brought tears to my eyes and I had to escape to the bathroom quickly. For the rest of the holiday though, I had no trouble interacting with the baby. I put it down to hormones and a tiring trip out.
And there's good news: our potential kd is now our official kd. We didn't want to say anything earlier in-case we jinxed it but the kd is a relative of A's. I, in particular, am excited about the implications of this. Yes, it means that we likely wont be able to try every cycle, as he lives abroad but the idea that our baby will have both my and A's genes is so wonderful that we are prepared to go longer between attempts. I'm feeling positive about this. I'm choosing to believe that since my pco symptoms are pretty mild, it may be that the metformin will do the trick relatively quickly (yes, I said relatively. I know it will still take a while)
The next steps are meeting with Dr. D to discuss putting me on metformin, arranging well-timed holidays with kd and ... oh yes, the wedding in May :D
Wednesday, 19 December 2012
All those little things
So here it is. I am officially moved in with A.
It's taken a long time for the last box from storage at my parent's place to make it here but I finally opened it last night. It was the hardest one to open, as this one contained my china baby doll. I know it's silly to get myself worked up at this - and once we start the tww, it will probably pale in comparison - but fresh on the heels of a family birth announcement, in the week I expect to be ovulating...I had wine with dinner and cookies for breakfast. Screw the diet.
Well, actually the diet has been going rather well. I don't track my weight pound by pound - never have - but people at work have started commenting that I've lost weight. I guess in this way I'm lucky; I seem to have only the mildest form of most of the presenting symptoms of PCO. My weight can usually be managed by cutting back on the indulgences and only a little extra exercise (physical job and all)
We'll be flying to Spain on Christmas eve, to spend time with A's side of the family. I'm not sure how I'll manage being in such close quarters with our newborn niece. Still, there is an upside to this: we'll be meeting with our potential k.d before Christmas. Hopefully, he'll have an answer for us and we can make arrangements or finalise alternative plans for our first attempt in the new year.
It's taken a long time for the last box from storage at my parent's place to make it here but I finally opened it last night. It was the hardest one to open, as this one contained my china baby doll. I know it's silly to get myself worked up at this - and once we start the tww, it will probably pale in comparison - but fresh on the heels of a family birth announcement, in the week I expect to be ovulating...I had wine with dinner and cookies for breakfast. Screw the diet.
Well, actually the diet has been going rather well. I don't track my weight pound by pound - never have - but people at work have started commenting that I've lost weight. I guess in this way I'm lucky; I seem to have only the mildest form of most of the presenting symptoms of PCO. My weight can usually be managed by cutting back on the indulgences and only a little extra exercise (physical job and all)
We'll be flying to Spain on Christmas eve, to spend time with A's side of the family. I'm not sure how I'll manage being in such close quarters with our newborn niece. Still, there is an upside to this: we'll be meeting with our potential k.d before Christmas. Hopefully, he'll have an answer for us and we can make arrangements or finalise alternative plans for our first attempt in the new year.
Thursday, 15 November 2012
Venting, the lighter alternative to a venti
Had a bit of an 'up and down' week. Mostly down.
Whilst looking for a place of her own, a friend has moved into our flat. She's paying a little towards rent and utilities and some of that is going into the baby fund but I'm getting frustrated with the changes that are happening because she's around. My folic acid supplement - with it's unmistakeable pregnant woman on the label - is hidden in a cupboard instead of next to the kettle (my first stop of the morning) and I'm taking it at random hours of the day, when she wont walk in - like I'm carrying on some illicit activity. The baby conversations have reduced drastically, as well. At the start of the week, I was finding it difficult to handle the increasing evidence of a co-worker's pregnancy, and not being able to come home and talk about it the way I wanted to sometimes because J was in the next room was frustrating. I've been looking through blog archives of happy-ending pregnancies, trying to add some positivity to this situation and hopefully pick up some ttc stress relief tips (quite a few out there, btw. Such amazing, positive women)
My colleague miscarried (24 hours before news reached us of our team manager and his wife having their first baby) so emotions are running a little high at work and at home at the moment. Between that and another colleague's injury, there's only been the two of us to cover duty manager shifts in the evenings. In the last week, I've been covering a lot of late evening shifts at work. Naturally, the store chooses to pile it on this week - from dangerous stairwells with no lighting, to produce delivery arriving twenty minutes before closing on a day when there's no available night-fill crew and I have to lock down completely. My caffeine intake has been higher this week than even when I was studying at uni. 250 mg a day may not sound like much to most people, but in my terms this is a binge.
And the cherry on the cake? A works morning shifts and studies three days a week, so I've seen her for less than an hour each day. I'm really missing her.
Whilst looking for a place of her own, a friend has moved into our flat. She's paying a little towards rent and utilities and some of that is going into the baby fund but I'm getting frustrated with the changes that are happening because she's around. My folic acid supplement - with it's unmistakeable pregnant woman on the label - is hidden in a cupboard instead of next to the kettle (my first stop of the morning) and I'm taking it at random hours of the day, when she wont walk in - like I'm carrying on some illicit activity. The baby conversations have reduced drastically, as well. At the start of the week, I was finding it difficult to handle the increasing evidence of a co-worker's pregnancy, and not being able to come home and talk about it the way I wanted to sometimes because J was in the next room was frustrating. I've been looking through blog archives of happy-ending pregnancies, trying to add some positivity to this situation and hopefully pick up some ttc stress relief tips (quite a few out there, btw. Such amazing, positive women)
My colleague miscarried (24 hours before news reached us of our team manager and his wife having their first baby) so emotions are running a little high at work and at home at the moment. Between that and another colleague's injury, there's only been the two of us to cover duty manager shifts in the evenings. In the last week, I've been covering a lot of late evening shifts at work. Naturally, the store chooses to pile it on this week - from dangerous stairwells with no lighting, to produce delivery arriving twenty minutes before closing on a day when there's no available night-fill crew and I have to lock down completely. My caffeine intake has been higher this week than even when I was studying at uni. 250 mg a day may not sound like much to most people, but in my terms this is a binge.
And the cherry on the cake? A works morning shifts and studies three days a week, so I've seen her for less than an hour each day. I'm really missing her.
Wednesday, 31 October 2012
Preconception Consultation 2 - Let's talk ttc!
Another day, another visit to Dr.D.
She asked how everything had gone over the last week and we told her that I had been a little emotional for a few days, but that we were ready to continue in our efforts towards trying to get me pregnant.
She started going over the potential impact of PCO on my future health but once she asked us if we had done any research and I gave her the essay worth of memorised material, she just touched on the basics, asking us to let her know if we weren't sure of something. I guess in this way, A and I have always been pro-active health-wise; we get a diagnosis, we go look for information.
We covered that for best fertility results, as well as managing PCO symptoms, I should probably get a little closer to my ideal weight. I've never been a big girl - my 5'2 frame makes it harder to hide extra pounds - but I have put on weight since I moved to be with A. I'm currently 4.5 kilos over my ideal weight. I think my new (attempt at a) low-GI diet may help that, and I'm looking towards re-joining the gym.
The next point we covered was Dr.D's recommendations for managing PCOS whilst ttc-ing. She suggested metformin, which is an anti-diabetic drug that works by suppressing the liver's glucose production. It is also used to treat potential insulin resistance linked to PCO. I'm currently researching contraindications, side effects and cost but we think this is likely our next step.
The next step also involves confirming whether Annie and Sally will meet Harry in his fresh or frozen state. We have been checking out sperm banks as a back up to our current potential k/d and have been pretty interested in one donor in particular, that has the same mix of ethnicities as A. Part of me gets warm and (dare I admit it?) fuzzy inside at the thought that our baby might look a little like A, too. A also seems keen on a donor we are currently nicknaming 'the Viking,' on account of his height/build and hair/beard colour. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, though.
She asked how everything had gone over the last week and we told her that I had been a little emotional for a few days, but that we were ready to continue in our efforts towards trying to get me pregnant.
*Let's charge that mountain!*
She started going over the potential impact of PCO on my future health but once she asked us if we had done any research and I gave her the essay worth of memorised material, she just touched on the basics, asking us to let her know if we weren't sure of something. I guess in this way, A and I have always been pro-active health-wise; we get a diagnosis, we go look for information.
We covered that for best fertility results, as well as managing PCO symptoms, I should probably get a little closer to my ideal weight. I've never been a big girl - my 5'2 frame makes it harder to hide extra pounds - but I have put on weight since I moved to be with A. I'm currently 4.5 kilos over my ideal weight. I think my new (attempt at a) low-GI diet may help that, and I'm looking towards re-joining the gym.
The next point we covered was Dr.D's recommendations for managing PCOS whilst ttc-ing. She suggested metformin, which is an anti-diabetic drug that works by suppressing the liver's glucose production. It is also used to treat potential insulin resistance linked to PCO. I'm currently researching contraindications, side effects and cost but we think this is likely our next step.
The next step also involves confirming whether Annie and Sally will meet Harry in his fresh or frozen state. We have been checking out sperm banks as a back up to our current potential k/d and have been pretty interested in one donor in particular, that has the same mix of ethnicities as A. Part of me gets warm and (dare I admit it?) fuzzy inside at the thought that our baby might look a little like A, too. A also seems keen on a donor we are currently nicknaming 'the Viking,' on account of his height/build and hair/beard colour. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, though.
Tuesday, 30 October 2012
PC-Oh!
The flat is quiet today; I sit in the front room, checking my e-mails and A is studying in the office. It's been almost a week since I came home from the clinic with the test results and we still haven't spoken about it. I sometimes find myself wanting to say something about it to her and then stopping because I can't decide what it is I want to say. I know A doesn't like seeing me upset but I can't even get my head around the PCO and what it means for our ttc attempts, let alone verbalise how I'm feeling.
When I went for the test, I was kinda hoping that the ultrasound would show something - some reason to explain why I have such trouble with my cycles; something I can work with. I guess I mostly got what I wanted: an explanation, at least. I know that PCO is a manageable condition, affecting an estimated* 5-10 women out of 100 in the UK and that it is possible for women with PCO to conceive. Still, I feel a little down when I think about how much harder this makes what we are trying to do.
We'll be setting up another appointment with Dr. D soon to figure out where we go from here. In the mean time, I've been spending a lot of time going through websites looking for information about PCO and reading other couple's stories about ttc with PCO. It's good for me to see that we are not alone in this. I'm still new to blogger but eventually, I'll figure out how to put up links for the sites I've been visiting, should anyone have an interest in finding more information/support for this condition.
*Estimated by Bupa, a private British healthcare organisation
Thursday, 25 October 2012
One hand in my pocket...
I had a clinic appointment this afternoon. A had wanted to come with me to all our baby related appointments but she had to work today and I couldn't bear not knowing the result of last weeks scan, so we agreed that I would go to the clinic on my own.
I thought I had covered all the bases with my research. I was determined to take the mentality that if the doctor said it was PCO, it would just be an obstacle to conceiving not a barrier. I mean, I'm healthy, a decent weight, there are still eggs in my basket...
When Doctor D confirmed the diagnosis, I felt a little strange - like I should be reacting to something but completely numb to it at the same time. Then she started talking about options. One of the first things she asked was how open we were to having A carry the baby. To put it mildly, A does not have an interest in being a biological mother. At some point, I started having this cascade of thoughts too fast to keep up with and I got a little overwhelmed, had a bit of a cry.
Then, as is my habit, I told myself to calm down, drew a line under this and asked the doctor what comes next in my most 'I have full control' voice (which may have come out a bit squeaky)
She explained that she had intended to look up for A and I where we stood with regards to fertility treatment funding on the NHS, but had forgotten. She promised that she would find out for us as soon as possible and call me and then we could take it from there.
On the walk home, every woman I passed - I'm not exaggerating here - was sporting a big pregnant belly, baby on hip or push chair. Realising that I was alone tonight and in the mood for some comfort food, I dropped into Tesco in search of ice-cream and that's where my phone chirruped to let me know I had a voice-mail I hadn't even noticed it ringing.
Dr D was calling to let me know she had found some information about funding for same sex couples. Apparently, the NHS will fund single mothers but not same-sex couples.
I feel gutted, at this point. I know the UK has some way to go before it can be recognised for liberal thinking, but I've always had some faith in the way this country is run: that it's been working towards a fair state. We spend thousands of pounds on welfare, funding for new creative voices, encouraging more people to follow their dreams into education. This is partially what my taxes pay for and I'm proud of it. Today the NHS has let me down. And right now, I don't know if I can forgive them for that.
I thought I had covered all the bases with my research. I was determined to take the mentality that if the doctor said it was PCO, it would just be an obstacle to conceiving not a barrier. I mean, I'm healthy, a decent weight, there are still eggs in my basket...
When Doctor D confirmed the diagnosis, I felt a little strange - like I should be reacting to something but completely numb to it at the same time. Then she started talking about options. One of the first things she asked was how open we were to having A carry the baby. To put it mildly, A does not have an interest in being a biological mother. At some point, I started having this cascade of thoughts too fast to keep up with and I got a little overwhelmed, had a bit of a cry.
Then, as is my habit, I told myself to calm down, drew a line under this and asked the doctor what comes next in my most 'I have full control' voice (which may have come out a bit squeaky)
She explained that she had intended to look up for A and I where we stood with regards to fertility treatment funding on the NHS, but had forgotten. She promised that she would find out for us as soon as possible and call me and then we could take it from there.
On the walk home, every woman I passed - I'm not exaggerating here - was sporting a big pregnant belly, baby on hip or push chair. Realising that I was alone tonight and in the mood for some comfort food, I dropped into Tesco in search of ice-cream and that's where my phone chirruped to let me know I had a voice-mail I hadn't even noticed it ringing.
Dr D was calling to let me know she had found some information about funding for same sex couples. Apparently, the NHS will fund single mothers but not same-sex couples.
I feel gutted, at this point. I know the UK has some way to go before it can be recognised for liberal thinking, but I've always had some faith in the way this country is run: that it's been working towards a fair state. We spend thousands of pounds on welfare, funding for new creative voices, encouraging more people to follow their dreams into education. This is partially what my taxes pay for and I'm proud of it. Today the NHS has let me down. And right now, I don't know if I can forgive them for that.
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