My IVF Diary 3 – 11 weeks pregnant (part 2)

2 Apr

5/1/14 – At about 7am, after another few hours of silence, tears and restless, exhausted sleep, my Mother in Law phoned my husband. She had obviously awoken to find the 37 missed calls on her phone and, not knowing I was pregnant, was in a hurry to find out why he was so desperate to talk to her in the middle of the night.

I didn’t hear the conversation, but I did see my husbands tears as he relayed the events to her, and his cries of “why does it keep happening to us?”. It broke my heart.

Not long after, a new group of doctors started their shift and began touring the ward. The on duty gynae doctor entered the room and first disappeared behind the curtain of the cubicle opposite. I winced as I heard her calmly recite the notes of the patient, “7 weeks pregnant, early bleeding, getting heavier…” and then coldly tell her that she would have an ultrasound by lunchtime which was likely to confirm she was miscarrying and that she had just a 5% chance of carrying a healthy baby to term.

I flinched as she walked over to my bed and pulled the curtain around, anticipating much the same callous conversation.

She introduced herself by name matter of factly, I don’t have any recollection of what it was, I wasn’t listening. Then she looked at me and my husband with tears in our eyes, and her demeanour changed. A warmth spread across her face, and she placed her hand on my shoulder as she said… “I have looked at your blood test results and the level of HCG in your blood is still high, so don’t panic just yet. We will have to see what the scan shows, but let’s hope this is just early bleeding and it will calm down and your baby is ok. Just hang in there.”

Having been told so bluntly just a few hours earlier that I was miscarrying, I didn’t know what to make of her more hopeful opinion, but I appreciated her humanity.

None the less, I turned to my husband and said “I don’t know what the blood results mean, but I won’t get my hopes up until I see the scan. I just don’t see how I could bleed this much and the baby survive. Can you contact my mum and tell her to come back to London? I need her.”

My mum of course promised to leave Somerset immediately, and expected to be at the hospital in about 2-3 hours.

About an hour later, a nurse finally approached the cubicle to confirm that they were ready for me in the ultrasound department. She fetched a wheelchair and asked one student nurse to push me down to antenatal, and confirmed to the other patient that she would return to take her down whilst I was in the scan room.

As the young lady pushed me down the lengthy corridors, into the lift, out through the double doors and across the car park into the maternity building I chatted to her breezily to distract from the bile that was building in my throat with the anticipation of what was to come next.

As we entered the waiting room I fell silent, unable to contain my fear any longer. Being a Sunday, the room was empty of any regular patients. I sat tapping my feet nervously as my husband sat beside me and the nurse sat opposite smiling. I stared at my twitching fingers, I stared at the ceiling, I took audible deep breaths. Anything to pass the time until the sonographer called me in.

And then she did.

This is it. No going back.

I pulled myself out of the wheelchair and slowly shuffled into the scan room with my hubby’s support.

I lay on the bed and hitched my hospital gown up towards my chest, revealing my delightful disposable pants and the nappy like pad underneath.

I felt obliged to apologise for my state of dress, although god only knows why. It must be the Britishness in me.

The sonographer began by explaining that the ultrasound would be performed internally to locate the cause of the bleeding.

The thought of any more objects poking up there whilst I was bleeding profusely and in pain was just too much for my stomach, so I hastily brought it to her attention that I had had multiple scans conducted abdominally since 8 weeks and was told the view was excellent.

Seeing my distress, she relented and agreed to start with an abdominal ultrasound and move onto an internal method if she couldn’t gather all the information she needed.

She asked me to move closer to her and after squirting some gel on my stomach, she placed the probe on the same area and fell silent.

Not wanting to look at the inevitable, I tried to focus on my husband sitting next to me. But as much as I tried to look away, I could see something large and unmistakeable out of the corner of my right eye.

It was this:


And quite the clearest and most beautiful heartbeat I had ever seen.

I jolted my head towards the screen and breathlessly panted to the sonographer, “Oh my god! I can see the heartbeat!”

“Yes” she said, “your baby looks really rather happy in there”.

I watched it wiggling around on the screen for a second before turning back to my husband open mouthed.

“Yes, I can see it too!” he said, looking delighted and yet nervous all at once.

The lady measured the baby, who was right on track for dates, observed the hands, the feet, everything… All as it should be.

Then she turned the probe to the rest of the womb, and there, without question, was a pool of blood, about the same size as the baby.

She explained that it was a hematoma, and that it was unclear where it had come from, but that the baby was so far completely unaffected and oblivious to it.

Concerned that my earlier internal examination by the gynae doctor had concluded that my cervix was open and I was miscarrying, I asked her to check on the scan. She showed me the inside of the cervix on screen and confirmed that it was closed and normal in appearance. Another positive sign.

She told me that I was likely hemorrhaging because the hematoma was located directly above the cervix and was therefore finding the quickest route out.

She took a picture of my baby waving and handed it to me, before handing me a report for the consultant and wishing me good luck.

Too shell shocked to ask any further questions, I practically skipped out of the scan room babbling incessantly at my husband.

I climbed into the wheelchair, and then, about to show my scan photo proudly to the waiting nurse, I caught sight of the lady from the bed opposite me who was now waiting for her scan. I instantly felt aware of what she must be feeling, so I kept quiet until I was wheeled out, giving her only a knowing nod.

Once in the corridor, I phoned my mother to tell her the baby was still alive, and to slow down on the motorway.

“But it can’t be after all that bleeding!” she screeched.

“It is! I have a picture, it waved at us!”

I told my husband to go straight home and collect my progesterone and some clothes, since my night clothes were ruined by blood stains and I couldn’t wear them.

The lady pushed me back to the ward and I returned to my bed, with the help of the awaiting nurses, and finally showed my scan photo to every one of them, completely elated that my baby was still fighting.

Just 5 minutes later, before I could even catch my breath, a new consultant approached my bed, clutching the scan report.

She looked fierce. Scary. And spoke quickly without pause.

“Ok, so your baby is fine, so you can go home now and come back for your 13 week scan as normal when we can see how things are looking. I will prepare your discharge papers”

“Eh?” I was taken aback. “But what about the bleeding? How long will it last?”

“I don’t know, but just come back if it gets worse.”

“And what about work? I’m due back tomorrow”.

“Sure, speak to your GP who can write you a sick note”

“And what about this hematoma? What risk does it pose?”

She leant towards me and said “how old are you?”

What the hell has that got to do with this?


“Oh, you look much younger, I thought you were in your early twenties”.

(Well I’m not young, and I’m not stupid either, so answer my questions lady)

And with that, she turned briskly and disappeared.

Feeling somewhat out of sorts, I phoned my husband to say I was being discharged, and my mother to tell her to go straight to my house and we would meet her there.

When my husband arrived, I got dressed quickly with his help, picked up my discharge papers, and after collecting some spare liners for my disposable pants, I walked, slowly, slowly out of the ward and into the car park.

When I arrived home, my mum was already there, and I showed her the scan picture before climbing onto the sofa and breathing a huge sigh of relief.

The game isn’t over.

Post Comment Love

14 Responses to “My IVF Diary 3 – 11 weeks pregnant (part 2)”

  1. ladylskey April 2, 2014 at 2:10 pm #

    Wow just wow! I admire you for being so brave through all of this. I know in my first trimester I was beyond scared of having a miscarriage and I bled some as well. But I now have a healthy and beautiful two month old baby. So keep on fighting! Your baby will be here before you know it πŸ™‚

  2. loveh3 April 2, 2014 at 11:01 pm #

    Im happy that your baby is okay. Enjoy your rest πŸ™‚ I will be sending prayers to you!

  3. KayC April 3, 2014 at 8:19 am #

    made me cry :-)) keep those feet up madam, your courage will be rewarded, know sitting still isnt something that comes easy but will all be worth it, lotsa love xxxxxxx

  4. Dean B April 4, 2014 at 9:08 am #

    This brought tears to my eyes, but I’m so glad there was a happy ending, or at least a hopeful one. A bit annoyed with that doctor, what has age got to do with it and she didn’t even bother to answer your question! Anyway, I’m hoping and praying that you and your baby will both be okay. Sending good vibes! #PoCoLo.

  5. Clare Scott April 4, 2014 at 10:04 am #

    What an incredibly brave and honest post. I hope you are keeping rested and well – and that your baby continues to thrive. Thinking of you. #PoCoLo

  6. Kim Carberry April 4, 2014 at 10:33 am #

    Aww!!! Wow!! So happy the baby is ok!! x

  7. @katgrant30 April 4, 2014 at 6:10 pm #

    Yikes, this is emotional roller coaster stuff.. I read part 1 and didn’t know how to comment, so v pleased to hear things are still on track… You have a fighter in there! Best of luck

  8. Merlinda (@pixiedusk) April 4, 2014 at 10:35 pm #

    Breathless till i read the last bit. A beautiful story. Thanks for sharing your experience #pocolo

  9. Verily Victoria Vocalises April 5, 2014 at 4:57 pm #

    You know how much I enjoy following your diary and, even though I knew the outcome, my heart still cheered when I got to the good news part. Look forward to next weeks instalment πŸ™‚ Thank you for linking to PoCoLo x

  10. thenthefunbegan April 5, 2014 at 9:31 pm #

    Wow what a rollercoaster that was! Pregnancy is so scary, even when you haven’t had trouble conceiving (it took me 15 months the first time and I was already 37 so I feared the worst and was talking to my GP about what to do next when it happened), but if you’ve had trouble conceiving, or previous miscarriages, and then bleeding – I can only imagine what a knife-edge you must have been living on. So glad it all had a happy ending! #PoCoLo

  11. mylittledreamworld1 April 6, 2014 at 12:14 pm #

    I read this a few days ago, but haven’t been able to comment due to needing to update wordpress. I’m glad that everything went okay, and hope that you are still okay. Your posts are always really well written, and I enjoy reading about your journey. Xxx

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