Reassurance is human

Mum100-blog-IVF-day-3-past-embryo-transfer-spotting-words-wisdom-welcomeIt’s day 3 past my 5-day embryo transfer. I had mild cramping, low down. Over several hours, I passed a small amount of brown blood. I was frightened when it started. I went for a walk to the shop, to clear my head. A guy with a can of Tennent’s lager called out, “cheer up love”. I managed a smile, further down the road.

Mum100_blog_Doctor_Google_overgoogling_IVF_fertility_treatment_answersDr Google was at my door when I got home. He was making his usual guarantees of total certainty and fast results. I let him into my flat, having promised myself I wouldn’t hang out with him in the two week wait. Dr Google found an article that reflected back exactly what I wanted to see – this one on implantation bleeding. It satisfied me for about five minutes, but then I wanted more!

Thankfully, I soon realised that no amount of googling could solve the real problem. I needed connection with human beings, with people who have been where I have been, people who understand these strange tricks of the mind. So, I reached out to the IVF community on Twitter instead.

Some helpful and kind responses came very quickly (thank you sisters!) – reassuring me that my symptoms are perfectly normal, and more importantly, reminding me I’m not alone. I also asked Dad 100 for a hug.

I’ve learned again today that reassurance is provided by humans not internet searches. A Google search is a sprint in the darkness: I will get somewhere fast, but I might slam into a brick wall!

IVF sisters – I really appreciate your company and kindness. Thank you!



Hope snowflakes

Mother Nature performed an impressive repertoire today – bold orange sun, whipping wind, grey storm clouds and pellets of ice, with splashes of blue sky in between.

At lunch time, I sheltered from the hail in the post office doorway, thinking of our four frozen blastocysts. I still marvel that they are suspended in time at -196 degrees. How is this possible?  Today’s play fight between winter and summer symbolised their journey home from the cryosphere. An incredible adventure across 240 degrees! I pray for their safe thaw and those vital sparks of cellular sunlight.

We’re investing all our hope in this miracle!


Tick tock head. Tick tock body.

Mum 100 blog - our blastersTick tock head, weighs my decision to leave work in April. 

“Was that wise? What about the money? The security?”

Tick tock body, reminds me of the priorities. Our ‘blasters’, we call them. Our day six blastocyst embryos, suspended at -196 degrees. Two of our fab four will be transferred into my womb in May.

“They deserve your full attention.”

Writing this, I feel relief. 

And yet, still I crave the certainty of perfect decisions, perfect timing, perfect outcomes. 

If you offered me a book, however, with everything that happens in the next twelve months, I wouldn’t want to know.