Archives for the month of: January, 2014


I had a 9.30am GP check up this morning. That might seem like no probs to most people, but at the moment I’m sleeping about 11 hours per day so that is a bit earlier than I’d prefer. We’d set this time as the husband had thought he’d come along and take me in the car, but as he came to the Consultant yesterday he didn’t come to the GP today. So, first time going to a medical appointment alone in a couple of months… but it was fine. And I got a cab so as not to have to get up too early for a bus.

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My midwife called the Consultant on Monday and got me an appointment within 48 hours of her call.  Easy.  Do not even get me started on what a massive difference it would have made to my life if this had happened nine weeks ago when my GP sent me to triage, or seven weeks ago when my first midwife told me to try some ginger… I remain oh so very angry about the decimating effect that this has unnecessarily had on my life.  So so so let down.

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Yesterday I wrote about getting the bus as one of the challenges of getting out and about a bit more now after being housebound with severe pregnancy nausea for three months.

Another key challenge for me now is going to eating and drinking places.

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Now I’m starting to become more active again, I’m occasionally going on the bus.  I don’t drive and Edinburgh has a fantastic public transport system and I used to think nothing of going on the bus several times per day.  But going on the bus is a bit more of an ordeal at the moment.  Three reasons why.

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This morning the husband and I went to an NCT ‘nearly new’ sale to see if there was anything to buy.  We came away with a box set of Mr Man books, but generally decided that we didn’t want some other baby’s smelly old vomit-stained stuff.  I’d been told by a friend that it was a good idea to get second hand things because babies grow so quickly, but having seen some ‘nearly new’ things the husband and I have decided we’d rather get new stuff from Tescos or Argos for the ‘disposable’ clothes and equipment.  Anyway, we’re not particularly short on money and it is nice for us to choose what we want rather than just taking what there is.

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Yesterday I saw my new counsellor for the first time, and had a very positive first appointment. There was a bit of going over old ground due to not having met her before, but she seemed to get me and the issue. Some interesting stuff in there about being given ‘permission to be ill’ in that because it has been so hard to be taken seriously and because I have not needed to be signed off work due to being self-employed there is no-one giving me ‘permission’. My illness has become all my responsibility. Which makes me feel unsafe. Plus as it has been such a struggle to get anywhere I have lost confidence in my ability to judge whether I am ill or not and I either worry I might be making it up or blame myself for not explaining things well enough. Plenty of stuff to be mulling over, and more next week.

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I have had three good days in a row, and today isn’t looking too bad either. This is amazing. In the last 12 weeks I’ve had no more than one good day in a row.

On Sunday we went to the shops for a couple of hours to look at home furnishings.

On Monday I had a work meeting in Glasgow.

On Tuesday I had a work meeting AND I went swimming where I swam 20 lengths (half breast stroke, half front crawl, in lane)

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Let’s talk about belly buttons!

I don’t generally spend a lot of time thinking about this part of my body but it has suddenly become relevant!

During pregnancy, a lot of pregnant women find that their belly buttons go from innie to outie sometime in the second trimester.

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Got an appointment for a counselling session today (next week) and an appointment for the 20 week scan (13th Feb).  So that’s all good.

Had to go into the GP surgery again today for the GP to check on me.  The husband came along again, and this time there was a student observing the session.  I explained to the GP that this drug combo was the best so far, but that I was having some unpredictable bouts of nausea.  I said I was working a couple of hours a day and the GP was pleased.  I tried to explain that this was difficult, and unpredictable, and disappointing so not entirely a good thing.  Certainly not what I’d hoped for by this point.

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Almost exactly a year ago I started a journal about my IVF journey, on Blipfoto.

The most important thing that I wanted to do was to be honest – to be 100% honest with myself and by extension my readers about everything that happened as it happened, and how I felt about it. I didn’t want to hide anything, or sugar-coat it. I knew there would be ups and downs and I knew that I’d write things that might seem difficult for the outsider to understand because they might appear contradictory or unreasonable. But I thought that if I shared my feelings there might be people out there that felt less isolated for knowing they were not alone in this experience, and there might be people who can learn a bit about what the process is like and learn from my experience to enable them to show compassion for others in their lives going through a similar thing.

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