The waiting room

Got a text message from my friend, she had a little baby boy at 5.05am this morning. 6lb's all is well. 5.05 that was just about the time I woke up with the mantra 'stop bleeding, stop bleeding, stop bleeding' going round in my head while I clenched my abdominal muscles nipping off to the loo to sort myself out and see how bad it was...... bad.

I cried going to work and I cried AT work today, a colleague was talking to me, I had confided our 'Spanish trip' with her a while back, she knew I was going off to be scanned and I explained that I felt it may not go ahead next week because of me losing the lining and the tears came, just as one of the children slipped over on some ice, I bent down and comforted them, secretly blubbing into their shoulder while they blubbed into mine. Then managed to gather myself and become 'Miss' again, asking them not to throw ice at each other, wipe their noses and line up at the gate to go in.

I went for my scan shortly after, I hate all this time off of work, I am sure they will get pissed off with me, but as I said before, hopefully they would of forgotten after half term. I sat in the first waiting room of the day. I watched all of the expectant mothers nervously carrying their 'pregnancy pack' being escorted with their partners into little rooms. A teenage mother came in with her 'fella' and her 'cousin' and her baby, patting her stomach, ''nuvver one on the way, I wanna have 4 you know, can't wait for this one to come......LILY GET YOUR ARSE OFFER THERE'.

I sat trying to stop what my uterus was doing 'Stop bleeding, stop bleeding, stop bleeding'.

My name was called after half an hour, I was dreading having to go through the whole story of why I was there again, facing the NHS riot act. I nervously went in. The lady smiled and I blurted it out my concerns and what I was doing and how I was worried and and...... She carried on smiling and seemed empathetic, 'You poor thing' she said 'Lets see whats going on' She popped the probe in 'It's fine' she said, but I don't think she understood what the situation was and how desperate I was that this cycle worked. She noticed a tiny little fluid thing on the picture and asked if I could be pregnant. I just tilted my head back and wanted to laugh like a mad person. 'No, I don't think so'.

The report was ok, not too worrying but then it didn't really tell me what I had to do next. I was so happy that she didn't judge me though, that she listened, felt sorry for me and said she would be thinking about me when I left. You see what does that cost? EXACTLY. It doesn't have to be about funding, it shouldn't be about funding, it should be about caring and making a difference to someones life if you can, making a hard situation easier if you can, not for grilling you and making you feel like a criminal, why do that? I felt better even though I had no answers and the lining was down to 8mm from the bleeding which is what it was before I started the hormones, so back at the beginning effectively with only a matter of days before Embryo Transfer.

She printed me a copy of the report and I made my way to the appointment I had made with the WD's Private Clinic for an oestradiol blood test, to check I am absorbing the hormones (as suggested by Spain).

I arrive slightly early to a newly decorated Victorian Palace, I ring the bell and a smartly dressed lady lets me in. A sweeping staircase is in the hallway, elegantly twisting its way up to the second floor. The floor was newly laminated and the whole place looked like a brand new Trendy London Lounge type affair. It was very impessive.

'I am afraid we are running late we have one nurse on today and she is doing bloods and scans take a sit in the waiting room' and she guided me through to an urban chic, living room area with fresh coffee to help yourself to and vast quantities of mineral water, the latest edition of 'Hello' and 'OK' neatly laid on the coffee table designed by Conran. Voluptiuous brown leather sofa's beckoning you to sit and pout on them with your clique of trendy pals, next to them the lime Green faux leather chairs, which added a plucky statement.

I felt I had stumbled into a London clinic to the stars. The only thing that let it down was the NHS'esque' one person manning the whole show type scenario, leaving paying customers with a 2 hour wait, not quite inkeeping with the ambient decor.

I parked myself on the lime green numbers, next to the coffee perculator and mineral water, there were some very well dressed couples and the odd woman alone, well dressed of course, except me who was covered in paint, glitter and splatters of mud up my trousers, hair a mess, face even worse. I reached for 'OK' and fixed my sights on the fact Jade was having a nervous breakdown.

We all sat there pretending not to sneak a peak at each other, all knowing why we were there but not daring to interact. Such a secret world we were probably all itching to find out each others stories, but noone did, noone ventured down the forbidden path that could quite possibly help us all.

A lady asked me when my appointment was.
'1pm' I said 'whens yours?'
'12.30'
'Is this your lunch break?'
'Oh I work from home today, but I am meeting someone at 2pm'
'oh hope you get there ok'
'yea'
And that was it, how terribly British is that, if I were anywhere else we would be discussing embryo transfers and the cryo genic process and whether my partners swimmers were up to the challenge.

Sad isn't it.

Time passed, inevitably and finally I was called by a young attractive lady in a pair of those ER blue pyjama's.

She seemed very rushed and couldn't wait to get the needle in and the vial filled. I discussed my endeavour but she wasn't interested, she knew the urgency and that was all that mattered, the emotional stuff was by the by, she had no time for that.

£25 later, the vial is full, and I am required to post it myself and hope that the results will be phoned through to me in the morning.

If I am not responding to hormones, I am buggered I think, so fingers very firmly crossed on that one.

It is either the polypectomy or the large amount of hormones that have caused this bleed I personally would say, but, one thing is definately for sure, I am bleeding and it seems to be stopping for noone. There is nothing I can do.

I get an email from Spain explaining the donor is responding well and is all on track, will know tomorrow date of transfer.

Yea thanks, typical donor is peachy, it is me that has f****d it up. I looked on internet, 8mm is not great and I am still bleeding.

Have stopped talking to the uterus now, very disappointing behaviour, I do wonder though whether Spain gave me too much hormone to take, I don't think I remember taking 6mg on my dummy run 3 years ago, maybe I did, I should of tried to find out and told them from the start, it's only a little uterus, mind you they knew that from my first scan result, they know what they are doing, my Uterus is just a little shit.

Well at least I can get drunk in Spain and eat Paella and Tapas if I don't get ET'd. Will definately try for funding for the local clinic if this goes tits up, you have got have a plan B, as long as I have a plan B my sanity will remain in tact.(I think).

x