My IVF Diary 3 – 7-8 weeks pregnant

11 Mar

7 weeks pregnant

9/12/13 – 7 week scan

I’m not sure I could be more nervous this morning. I wake up shattered after an unsettled night and try to snooze while my hubby gets the boy ready for school. I’m feeling hungry and sick but my appetite is nowhere so I nibble on some apple and within no time it is time to get ready.

We jump into the car, armed with my now ever present tuck bag full of snacks to satisfy random urgent cravings.

Sitting in traffic, my heart is pounding but I and hubby attempt to distract ourselves with the radio. It works. I focus on the banal chatter as if it were a deeply profound topic. We make it through the rush hour a few minutes late and walk at speed from the car park to the clinic. I am so exhausted I feel nauseous. When we arrive I am desperate for the loo. I urge hubby to ring the bell quickly whilst I hop up and down. As we arrive at reception, the chirpy receptionist asks how I am. All I can mutter is a hurried “need the loo” before rushing into the cubicle and breathing a sigh of relief.

I rush out and take a seat in the waiting room. Within a minute, the consultant appears and beckons me into the scan room. She asks how I am and I say “petrified”. She asks whether my right sided pain is still there and I explain that it moved to the other side the next day, but then gradually disappeared. I tell her that I am convinced there will be nothing in there and she smiles and says “I’m sure there is, just think positive”.

I climb on the table and position myself in the stirrups, I ask my husband to stand next to me and ensure that he doesn’t look at the screen until the consultant has confirmed all is ok.

She warns me that she may be quiet for a while whilst she has a good look around to see what she can find. She inserts the probe, I clench my eyes shut as hard as I can and grasp hubby’s hand. My heart is pounding through the silence.

Within just a few seconds she confirms the presence of one sac. I’m not excited as we saw the sac in my last failed pregnancy, I want to see a heartbeat. Just a short while later she smiles and confirms the presence of a fetal pole and heart beat. At this point my hubby looks at the screen and with some relief confirms he can see it too. I strain my head, but I can see nothing but a blob.

She turns the screen further towards me, but still I can see no heart beat. Finally, she hovers the Doppler over the heart and tracks the pulsation and sound. Now I can see it. Bodum, Bodum, Bodum.

Then she says something that floors me. “I can see two pulsations, so I’m just going to check that there is only one fetus in the sac”. What? What? There must be only one in that sac… Surely there is no identical twin!

After a few more minutes of searching she confirms the presence of just one fetal pole and suggests that the other pulsation may be the beginnings of the umbilical cord forming. She switches on the colour to measure blood flow and finally I am reassured as I see a flood of red flashing on and off within the baby’s chest.

She measures the blob and confirms that baby is measuring 7 weeks 2 days. Slightly ahead of date and so much bigger than my last last baby measured at 7 weeks.

We leave exhilarated and hopeful that this time we have a keeper.

Week 7 symptoms have been a little more obvious than week 6. I am now carrying a bag of snacks with me everywhere I go to prevent nausea and am craving all manner of junk foods. I am as before, right off chocolate, but developing quite a fondness for sausage rolls and pork pies.

My breasts have been abit sensitive this week, although not growing a great deal, much to my disappointment. I am also sporting a rather bloated belly which I like to convince myself is a baby bump, even though it is more likely gas. It does mean that I’ve had to start wearing my maternity trousers already to avoid the waist cutting into my stomach. I am refusing to purchase any maternity clothes until 12 weeks for fear of jinxing the outcome, but I figure I may as well make use of the stuff I bought last time. No harm in that.

Week 8 – a really hard week. Am feeling really low in energy and hungry/nauseous all the time, but work is really busy and on Tuesday I had to go into the office followed by a trip to Windsor for a Christmas conference with overnight stay. I knew I would have to go well equipped to fulfil my cravings and stave off the nausea as well as carry a case full of clothes to disguise the bloat.

The event itself went quite smoothly. I managed, I think, to secretly snack from foods under the table, but did experience many questioning comments at the evening party about why I didn’t finish my main course, why I got a different pudding, why I wasn’t drinking and why I wouldn’t dance very much. I slept well in the room for once and managed to drag myself downstairs in time for breakfast, however my nausea was hovering and I could barely face any of the foods on offer and had to make do with a sausage and a few spoonfuls of beans.

Same again at lunch. I was shaking with hunger, and yet eating seemed almost impossible.

I left lunch promptly and jumped into my car to make the short trip back to Ruislip to see my son’s nativity play. And that’s where it all went wrong.

The journey back from Egham to Ruislip should have taken approximately 30 minutes, so I felt confident that leaving 75 minutes to get home would be plenty. I pulled out of the hotel, following my sat nav instructions and moved to the end of the road. I turned left onto a dual carriage way and just 3 seconds later, came to a grinding halt in stationary traffic. At first, I didn’t panic, I still had more than an hour to get home and this traffic would hopefully ease up at the end of the road, so I phoned my mum to tell her I was on my way but would meet her at the school directly as I didn’t know how long the traffic would take to clear. Then I waited, and waited, and waited….. 10 minutes, 20 minutes, 30 minutes…. Barely moving. There was no end in sight and no break in the central reservation anywhere to turn round.

So I phoned my husband, and cried……and screamed…..and wailed until eventually I was so hysterical a man in the lorry beside me opened his window and leaned out to ask if I was ok. The emotion I felt was explosive, I hope fuelled by hormones, since I’m not normally prone to throwing a tantrum fit for a two year old.

I screamed at my OH over and over, telling him how upset I was that I wouldn’t make my son’s play, and how I was desperate to see his little excited face when he saw us in the crowd. Eventually, my husband agreed that he would turn around on his route to a job and would head to the school to take my place so that at least one of Oscar’s parents would be there to watch. I howled with anger and disappointment until I was almost sick and then accepted that I could do no more.

After an hour, I finally reached the end of the congested road and with the benefit of some fairly irresponsible speeding, I eventually reached the school approximately 10 minutes late. I dumped the car and ran down the street into the gates desperate for the loo. But no time. I raced into reception to be escorted to the school hall where the play was in full swing. I passed my husband standing at the back filming and shot down towards the front waving and gesturing at my son like a mad woman. My son gave a coy smile and waved back.

The rest of the week passed somewhat more uneventfully until Friday, when I noticed that my symptoms had begun to fade. The nausea, the food aversions, the shakiness, all seemed to be subsiding. I knew I had a scan booked the next day and was petrified about what I would find.

By the morning of the scan I was a nervous wreck. I could barely talk. I sat in silence in the car on the way to the clinic and couldn’t even think about eating. My husband picked up on my anxiety and became more and more nervous also. By the time we arrived at the clinic, my husband had turned an unsettled grey/green colour… Usually a sign he was about to be sick. We entered the waiting room 10 minutes early and sat in silence. After about a minute, the sonographer called for the first patient, a lady sat beside us. Damn. Come on, come on.

10 minutes later, the lady left the ultrasound room and the sonographer called for the next patient which I was convinced would be me, but no, it was another lady sat next to us. My nerves caved and I began to tear up. I couldn’t bear the waiting. I held my husband’s hand, clenching it tight, as tight as I could, somehow gripping on to the last few minutes of this pregnancy dream. My husband stared into space, his skin now white with fear.

Eventually, the patient left the room, laughing and joking with the sonographer and receptionist. She must be a regular, yes, yes, yes, cut your chit chat lady, can’t you see I’m dying here?

At last the sonographer called us into the room. As we entered, she asked how I was feeling. “Terrified” was my only response. She asked why, and I couldn’t speak. My lip trembled, tears ran down my cheeks, and I gestured at my husband to answer her.

He explained our previous loss at 9 weeks and my recent loss of symptoms, and the lady quickly ushered me onto the bed and told me to lie down.

“Oh those pesky symptoms, they worry so many women that they keep me in expensive shoes! I guess the only way we can put your mind at ease is if we take a look”. I could see the screen mounted on the wall in front of the bed. Memories of seeing my previous baby with no heartbeat large as life came flooding back. I couldn’t bear to look.

She put the gel on my tummy, I closed my eyes and she began.

Just two seconds later she said “well there’s a lovely heartbeat”.



I heard my hubby say “yes, I see it”.

I opened my eyes startled, to see a somewhat bigger looking kidney bean right in front of me. I couldn’t see the heartbeat, but she immediately played it loud and clear on the ultrasound. Baddum, baddum, baddum…. Racing like a freight train.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief and she began taking measurements.

At 8 weeks 5 days, our little bean already had little limb buds, just as Oscar did at his 9 week scan. What progress.

Sized at 2cm now, he/she was measuring right on track.

“Would you like a video emailed to you?” the sonographer asked.


She completed her checks and then scanned about 30 seconds of footage just for the video. As if knowing he/she were on film, our little one immediately began wriggling around just like a baby cockroach, it’s tiny arm and leg buds waving around. I was so excited. I spent the rest of the afternoon playing that footage over and over again in awe of the little creature growing inside me.

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10 Responses to “My IVF Diary 3 – 7-8 weeks pregnant”

  1. emilytealady March 14, 2014 at 2:39 pm #

    I can completely understand those anxieties, I had an ectopic pregnancy and when I fell pregnant afterwards, I had to have an early scan to check. I was a nervous wreck. I am hoping all is still going well for you #pocolo

  2. afra willmore (@madmumof7) March 14, 2014 at 2:43 pm #

    gripping and fabulous!

  3. @katgrant30 March 14, 2014 at 3:41 pm #

    Congrats! Amazing to have such scan footage! X #PoCoLo

  4. Hannah | MakeDo&Push (@theREALjeevesy) March 14, 2014 at 7:15 pm #

    Eek! How exciting and congratulations! xx #PoCoLo

  5. Kim Carberry March 14, 2014 at 8:44 pm #

    How exciting! x

  6. Victoria Welton (@VicWelton) March 14, 2014 at 10:30 pm #

    As wonderful as ever lovely. I am always gripped by your posts. I was in tears reading about you trying to get to Oscars play and again when you went for your scan. I hope all is going well and you are getting plenty of rest. Thank you for linking to PoCoLo x

  7. Suburban Mummy (@suburban1mummy) March 19, 2014 at 9:37 pm #

    A lovely post, I don’t know the pain of baby loss but as someone who was told I never would have children I know the pure terror that is the scan room. I have everything crossed for a healthy pregnancy xxxx

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