What were you doing…?

What were you doing…?

If I asked you what you were doing at 5am on May 3rd 2020 would you know? I certainly would and it is a day I don’t think I’ll forget for the rest of my life.

I was sat in the bathroom, distracting myself from looking at the pregnancy test I had just taken, trying not to take a sneak peak for fear of jinxing it. It took me 20 minutes for me to pluck up the courage to put my phone down, take a deep breath and wonder over to the shelf where I placed it while it worked it’s magic.

Before we delve any deeper into my story me give you a bit of background for all those who are new to this blog. My husband and I had been trying to make little Baby Bloomer for 29 months at this point. We’d tried it naturally, we tried medicine, we’d had countless blood tests and scans and sperm counts and doctors appointments. I had my tubes flushed and still nothing had happened. Our next appointment with the fertility specialist was booked for 2nd April 2020 but the pandemic hit the UK and it was cancelled. It felt as though luck was not on our side at all after endless bad news, rearranged meetings and negative pregnancy tests.

*cue humming B*Witched – C’est La Vie to myself*

Back to May 3rd. At this point my period is 4 days late which isn’t unusual. My cycle, for the most part, fell between 28 and 32 days. Those extra few days you spend just waiting for the inevitable to happen. But something felt different this time. I had a bottle of Prosecco the night before and got pickled far too quickly, my boobs felt heavy and ridiculously sore and I was beyond exhausted. Despite this Morgan encouraged me to wait as long as possible. So I waited until the very next morning and here we are, caught up with the story.

I don’t think I actually believed it when I first saw the bright blue plus sign on the pregnancy test. I grabbed the box to make sure it meant what I thought it meant. There was absolutely no mistaking it, we were pregnant! I grabbed the stick and ran to the bedroom shouting for Morgan to wake up. I jumped on the bed and practically waved the test in his sleepy face, shouting ‘we’ve bloody done it’ much to his utter confusion. Realisation set in, he saw what I was shouting about and crying over, gave me a hug, told me he loved me and then said ‘get some sleep.’

Needless to say, with the adrenaline and excitement pumping throughout my body I was not going to be going back to bed any time soon. And if I wasn’t sleeping, neither was he. I downloaded a bunch of apps, ran internet searches for everything pregnancy related and started reeling off facts and figures and comparing the size of our little Baby B to various teeny tiny animals and foods.

I’ve never felt anything like it in my life. The feeling is completely overwhelming when you have been waiting so long for everything to just fall in to place. So many concerns and worries creep in to your mind. Did the bottle of wine I guzzled the night before make the baby boozy? What if the test is faulty and actually there’s not a little water bear in there? (Seriously, Google what a water bear is because that’s the stage we were at on May 3rd and the name has stuck with us) How is this pregnancy going to work during a pandemic? Will the cats get on with the baby?

We agreed I’d take a second test the next day and for now we would relax, put our phones and apps down and just enjoy this moment together. Our little secret growing inside of me.

For everyone who has read my posts, followed our journey, sent amazing messages of support over the last year since I started this blog, all I can say is thank you. Fertility issues are tough to deal with at the best of times, but when you bare all on the internet for the whole world to read and open up about an extremely sensitive subject, there is just no where to hide. You’ve all been incredible and we are ridiculously lucky to have so many amazing friends and followers who have helped us along the way. The next stage of our journey has begun and we are going to let you all join us for the ride. So buckle up and get ready because we’re in this together!

January 1st 2020…

January 1st 2020…

Today marks the start of new beginnings. The time to reflect on the past. The amazing highs, the almighty lows and all the bits in-between. The time to share resolutions you’ll set with good intentions but struggle to keep beyond the first month. A new day, a new year, a brand spanking new decade.

So why do I feel so damn flat?

Let’s just say 2019 was character building. I’m a stronger woman after enduring challenge after challenge whether personal or work related. But I’m tired. Tired of getting my hopes up, tired of constantly putting a smile on my face and muddling through, tired of pretending everything is ok when actually it’s not.

‘2020 is going to be my year’ I keep telling myself. But what if it’s not? What if I’m sat in the bath January 1st 2021 writing the same ‘woe is me’ post because abso-bloody-lutely nothing has changed once again?

This isn’t a cry for help by the way. I’m just feeling particularly sorry for myself. Maybe it’s because my period started yesterday? A fabulous way to end the year *virtual thumbs up*. A middle finger from Mother Nature. I mean, at least it was bang on time though. No pissing about like last month. Note to self: I must remember to remain thankful for small mercies and avoid constantly sounding ungrateful. Repeat after me ‘you are healthy, you are happy. You are healthy, you are happy.’

This month, more so than last month, I had completely convinced myself we were pregnant. That the spotting I got Christmas Day and Boxing Day was a sign that 2020 was going to be ‘The One.’ I had obsessively Googled implantation spotting, timescales, cycles. Thoughts constantly whirring around my head for 6 days. Wondering how I go about cancelling the consultation we have booked with a specialist in January. Staying up until 5am reading post after post telling me not to get my hopes up until I’d done a pregnancy test after my period was due. Looks like one of my resolutions needs to be ‘follow other’s advice’ because I did the exact opposite.

Yes, 2019 had it’s struggles but life would be boring if everything went the way we want it to right? 2020 will no doubt have its own hurdles to overcome and we will get through whatever is thrown at us.

But today I’m a little down so I’m going to get back in my pjs, drag the duvet to the sofa and watch back-to-back rom-coms before I have to head back to work tomorrow. Let me wallow in my hormonal sadness for a few hours and then I’ll be as right as rain.

So cheers everybody! Here’s to 2020! New Year, Same Me. Just 34lbs lighter and a little more exhausted.

4 days late…

4 days late…

That’s how long it was before I was woken up with cramps at 5am this morning. 4 long days of silently hoping this was the one, that we would be starting the New Year with some amazing news.

I hadn’t told my husband that my period was late until yesterday. I didn’t want to say it out loud for fear of jinxing it but I dragged him in to the pharmacy to buy some tests ‘just in case’. I told him I wouldn’t do it until the morning, that I’d give it one more day. I guess I just saved myself £10.99. Every cloud and all that.

This news, or non-news, shouldn’t come as a surprise to me. Our third round of Clomid was quickly followed by a bout of pneumonia which had to be treated with some very strong antibiotics. Let it be known that there is nothing less sexy than someone coughing up their lungs constantly.

Yet this time I feel completely betrayed by my body.

I don’t know whether it’s because I knew this was our third and final round of Clomid, or whether I was hoping for some sort of Christmas miracle, or whether I consciously hoped to be pregnant before I turned 30 in a few days. Maybe it’s just that I don’t like to feel like I’ve failed at something.

This just means that the start of 2020 is going to look very different to how I imagined. Don’t get me wrong, we both knew this was a possibility, our doctor outlined next steps in our last appointment to prepare us. I just hoped we wouldn’t have to start the year with more trips to the fertility specialist. It also means I definitely have to shift those last 14lbs before we move forward.

The last two years have been incredibly difficult but Morgan and I are most definitely stronger for it. He keeps me going with his positive outlook on life and is overwhelmingly supportive no matter what. Whilst I’d rather not be on this particular pathway I’m glad I have him by my side, keeping me going when it is all too easy just to say “I give up.”

So for now I’m going to stick on some sad music, have a little cry, get it all out of my system and then I’m going to relax and enjoy the festive season. I have birthday celebrations planned over the next couple of weeks, too many Christmas parties to attend and I intend to eat and drink my way in to the New Year.