Part 10 - Miscarrying?

Almost eleven weeks pregnant and our departure from Thailand was memorable simply because the morning sickness was at what I hoped would be its peak. We spent our last night staying at a rather lovely hotel in Chiang Mai itself, and in the morning we joined the main dining room for breakfast.  E loves breakfast and was incredibly excited about the extensive choice from Eastern food to the continental buffet style that we are used to back home, but it was all I could do not to throw up upon arrival. 

The smell of the Eastern food was just too much for me and I sat at our table desperately trying to chew small bites of plain toast without vomiting. I knew that without food in my stomach I was likely to feel worse during the rest of the morning but it was an effort.  It sounds crazy to anyone who has never gone through it themselves, this concept of eating something to ease the feeling of sickness, but for me it made a huge difference.

The flight back to the UK was equally challenging as the smell of the aeroplane food exasperated the feeling of nausea.  Strangely, fruity Mentos sweets seemed to help. E was surprised, he’d never seen me eat a sweet and here I was obsessed with them! It did seem like the strangest craving, all that sugar and artificial flavourings, but it made a huge difference.

Back in the UK we spent a night staying at a hotel near Heathrow airport. Jet lag and morning sickness do not combine well and that next morning I felt rotten. It didn’t help that we had to travel into central London to catch a train across the country to Manchester airport. Here we had pre-booked a hire car so that we could drive to a wedding that Saturday in St Martin’s, a few hour’s drive South.

It was Friday lunchtime by the time we got to the central London train station. The sun was shining brightly and there was a jovial-end-of-the-working-week atmosphere in the air as people milled about eating their lunch.  I left E sitting in the sun while I spent a good thirty minutes walking from one sandwich shop to another and back again, studying the sandwiches in some depth to determine which one may make me feel better.

I wasn’t used to buying myself a sandwich to eat as I don’t usually eat bread, and here I was salivating at the mere sight of them.  As a non-dairy eating vegetarian, I was particularly humoured by the fact I was repeatedly attracted to both roast beef sandwiches and cheese and pickle sandwiches. It was the strangest thing because my head was saying “absolutely no!” and yet my body was crying out, “yes, yes, yes!”.

It made me realise how much I was still listening to my head when it came to choosing food and not to my body, and therefore how much my old eating disorder was still having an influence on my present day food choices.  It seemed that pregnancy was well and truly throwing me out of my comfort zone as it was making me question my usual habitual way of eating and that was, at times, challenging. 

Needless to say E was wondering where I was and couldn’t believe it had taken me so long to buy a couple of sandwiches. The cheese and pickle sandwich won out in the end, together with a packet of crisps and a sugary sparkling lemon drink.  I kept thinking to myself, “this is ridiculous, here I am growing new life inside me, I should really be eating a super healthy diet but actually all I want to eat is unhealthy stuff instead”.

Cheese sandwich or not I felt desperately sick much of the train journey. I had bought myself one of those awful celebrity magazines at the train station that provide meaningless distraction when travelling.  This particular magazine contained an article about miscarriage, which I found slightly unnerving and which for some strange reason kept drawing my attention. Little did I realise how poignant this would become the next morning.

It was a relief to make it to the hotel later that early evening and crawl into bed to sleep. Ordinarily I love travelling but I was finding it hard work while pregnant.  It was hardly surprising; your body is going through such a lot of change that first trimester. Not only did I feel sick but my breasts were growing and my waist had thickened so that I was beginning to feel uncomfortable in my usual clothing. I was also looking pale and washed out despite the suntan.

The next morning, I awoke feeling decidedly out of sorts.  I joined E for breakfast in the small hotel dining room and attempted to eat some toast while he tucked into a hot breakfast. It was then that I started experiencing stomach cramps that had me holding my lower tummy. I was hoping it was just trapped wind but something didn’t feel right and I started channelling Reiki onto my lower tummy in the hope that the combination of this and the toast and tea may ease things.

But alas not and back in our room I went to the toilet only to find that I was discharging brown blood.  Panic quickly took hold. I immediately imagined the worst and was overcome with that horrible stomach-churning empty feeling as I started shaking uncontrollably. Everything became very real and very present-moment, like time stood still. I couldn’t believe I was discharging brown blood and I cried out to E in the bedroom before bursting into tears.

I didn’t know what to do.  I was desperately trying to feel the energy of the foetus inside me but I was too panicky to know what I was feeling. I reached for my laptop and googled “brown blood 11 weeks pregnant”. This probably wasn’t the best idea as I came across a whole host of pregnancy forums where women shared their experiences of miscarriage. Fear kicked in. That’s the trouble with these sites, they’re very fear-driven.

I couldn’t quite believe I might by miscarrying. It seemed too cruel.  Having beaten the odds to get pregnant through IVF, to then miscarry was desperately unfair. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that this may happen, I was taking the progesterone pessaries to support the pregnancy and just figured that would help to prevent miscarriage.  

I used my pendulum to try and dowse for the energy of the foetus.  Ordinarily using a pendulum helps me to check in with my intuition but I was feeling so anxious and desperate that I couldn’t determine my truth. There was a part of me that was hopeful that because the blood was brown and not bright red that all would be well.  But I was cramping and the discharge was noticeable so I couldn’t ignore that something was happening, even if I didn’t yet know exactly what it was.

We were due to collect E’s best friend from the train station later that morning and I decided that I would go with him as I didn’t want to be left on my own. I lay still on the bed, channelling Reiki onto my tummy until we had to leave. The discharge had eased a little by then but I was still getting cramps and I just felt that I needed to get it checked out.  So after collecting E’s friend we headed to the local A&E department.

It was only a small department and they weren’t able to offer me a scan to check for the foetal heartbeat until the Monday by which time we would be back home in Guernsey.  The doctor was very kind but did little to ease my concerns. My symptoms were suggesting a miscarriage and he said that there was little they could do for me and I was advised to go home and rest.

There was something that didn’t feel right about this. Waiting in the hospital environment had given me the opportunity to calm myself with my breath and drop out of panic mode. I kept trying to feel the energy of the foetus inside me and now that now that my mind was calmer, I began to sense something again.  I had a feeling I was still pregnant, but couldn’t be sure whether I may later miscarry. It was a whole new world to me.

E and I discussed whether I should stay at the hotel but I decided to join the wedding as I needed a distraction. It was a tough day though and while the wedding was lovely, a small intimate affair, I found it difficult to concentrate and engage in any meaningful conversation. My mind was distracted by the sensations I was feeling in my body and I couldn’t stop trying to feel the energy of the foetus and channel Reiki into it.

The worst bit was the vaginal discharge. As soon as I felt some change in sensation down below, I was immediately desperate to know if it meant I was bleeding.  I spent a lot of the day visiting the toilet, but it was with utter dread that I did so, praying as I pulled down my pants that I wouldn’t see blood.  I can still remember that sickening feeling that accompanied any toilet visit; little did I know that this would set the scene for the rest of the pregnancy.

By the afternoon I was heartened to find that I was feeling decidedly sick again. Never have I been so delighted to experience morning sickness!  Once again I was going through a U-turn on my perception of things. Conception and now pregnancy was throwing everything on its head.  If I was still pregnant then I would welcome all sickness from now on.  It was a sign of an ongoing pregnancy and that is something I wanted to celebrate.

Back home in Guernsey the specialist confirmed that I hadn’t miscarried. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was but surmised that it may have been the passing of the embryo sack from the embryo that hadn’t made it. It was a huge wake up call to take things a little easier and slow my life down, to appreciate the new life growing inside of me.  But this is easier said than done and the Universe nudged me time and time again…

The IVF Journey Part 9 - Morning Sickness in Thailand, Doulas and Independent Midwives

Long haul travelling during the first trimester when you are already feeling quite yucky is certainly no fun. I was 8 weeks pregnant and feeling decidedly nauseous and ever so tired at this stage.

I loved the idea of resting for twelve hours in an aeroplane seat but in reality even this was exhausting. It was challenging too simply because of the terrible aeroplane smells and the fact I couldn’t elevate my ankles. E was going through his own challenges; his back was still playing up so sitting in an air-seat for that length of time was certainly not easy for him either.

At Bangkok we had to transfer up to Chiang Mai. We’d both just settled into the seats of the smaller internal plane when E started panicking that he couldn’t find his wallet in his bag.  He’d taken it out of his pocket only minutes earlier to put through the scanner at security before we got on the plane.   He called the airhostess over and before I knew it he was leaving the plane and arranging to join me in Chiang Mai on the next flight.

Without really thinking, I quickly handed him my wallet with all my cards in it in case anything happened to him and sent him off on his way, thinking to myself how crazy that here I was now travelling up to Chiang Mai on my own, pregnant, and with no wallet.  One does silly things in the heat of the moment!

At Chiang Mai airport I was met by the driver who would be taking E and I to the house where we would later be joined by my folks and my brother and his family.  I’m not sure the driver was that delighted to hear that we now had to sit around the airport waiting for E’s plane, which was due to land within the next 2 hours, but alas there wasn’t much we could do about it. 

By then I was feeling surprisingly ok, it was like the jet lag has somehow managed to shift the sickness I had previously been feeling.  It was incredibly humid and I sat trying to read my book and feeling thankful that at least I had a bottle of water to drink because I had no money to actually buy anything – this is a really horrible feeling that makes me feel very vulnerable.

After 20 minutes or so I had cause to rummage in my bag and lo and behold there was E’s wallet.  Arghh!  My phone wasn’t working at that point so I wasn’t able to call him and let him know and I hoped that he’d still gotten on the next plane and wasn’t trawling Bangkok airport for his supposed lost wallet!

Fortunately, he arrived on the next flight from Bangkok and we both laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation.  It turned out that the kind staff at Bangkok airport had replayed the security camera footage showing E putting his wallet through the security belt so they’d been able to see that he’d popped it into my bag at the end of the belt. Crazy man with his short term memory and me completely unaware of the fact he had put his wallet into my bag, which doesn’t bode well does it, at least for personal security!

In any event all was resolved and sorted, and we were then driven the hour or so up into the hills to the house we had rented for the next 2 weeks.  The house was situated in a marvellous spot in the middle of nowhere really and had its own staff, which was pure luxury for me as it meant someone else was cooking.  However, what I hadn’t factored in was the fact that we would be eating Thai food at every meal, and that no one had thought to tell the staff that I was essentially a vegetarian so the meat dishes upon arrival were a touch challenging!

Those first twenty-four hours were relatively easy going for me.  There was a welcome outdoor swimming pool where we could all cool off from the intense humidity, and the rooms had aircon (when they were working) while the house itself was relatively cool if you did need to escape from the sun. I was beginning to think that perhaps the morning sickness had eased but after that initial twenty-four-hour period, I was left with no doubt that the morning sickness was still very much still there.

Morning sickness sucks!  Yes, I know, I should have been very grateful for the fact that I was even experiencing morning sickness because that meant I’m pregnant. And I was grateful, truly I was, and I’m quite sure that when I was having trouble conceiving, I got sick of hearing other pregnant ladies moan about their sickness and about their indigestion and tiredness and all the other stuff that pregnancy entails.

But the truth is, morning sickness is the most debilitating thing I have ever experienced.  And to be honest unless you’ve gone through it, I don’t think you can ever quite understand how absolutely awful a feeling it is. For a start, the term “morning sickness” is utterly ridiculously.  Whoever thought this one up was clearly someone who has never experienced it because yes, while I did indeed feel sick in the morning, I was also feeling sick throughout the rest of the day too.

I’m not usually one for eating breakfast but in Thailand I just absolutely had to have something inside my tummy and fruit just wouldn’t do the job.  Ordinarily I give bread a wide berth as it doesn’t agree with me, but this was probably the only thing that made me feel even slightly better – tea and a piece of toast with jam and butter, two other ingredients that never usually pass my lips – and I admit to feeling guilty about this.

It’s crazy really this whole guilt thing and I know that I’m not alone in feeling it. I’m a keen fan of good nutrition and I’ve done a lot of work on myself with this in terms of discovering what works best for me in how it makes me feel – we are what we eat after all. So the fact my cravings were challenging that was actually challenging me too. While it may seem like no big deal to many, the fact I was eating bread was a big deal and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being unhealthy somehow.

It got worse though because about an hour after breakfast, lying by the pool, I would start feeling incredibly sick and absolutely the only thing that seemed to ease his feeling was drinking a very cold can of sparkling lemon pop which no doubt contained vast quantities of sugar, let alone all the other stuff that gets added to soft drinks.  I just couldn’t believe that a drink like this could possibly make me feel better, but amazingly it did – and this was before 10 in the morning, yikes what was going on with my body!

Now ordinarily, up until that point, I had always loved Thai food.  But lying out by the pool those first few mornings, the smell of the Thai food being prepared for lunch was enough to turn my stomach and make me feel wretched. Let alone then sitting at the dinner table and being offered a full cooked Thai meal.  In fairness even E and my folks were challenged by two Thai meals a day and it was with some relief that we agreed to prepare our own lunch and just eat one main Thai meal in the evening. 

All I really wanted to eat was bread with goat’s cheese and tomatoes.  Fortunately, the Western supermarket that we found in Chiang Mai provided all of these ingredients, so we stocked up and that pretty much kept me going at lunchtime. In the afternoon I’d get a full on fruit craving, the sweeter the better.  I recall E and I being in Chiang Mai one afternoon when it was particularly hot and all I wanted were smoothies with as much ice as possible, the colder the better, but they never seemed to be cold enough.

Late afternoon and I would experience a lull in sickness, which was a welcome relief and I would look forward to aperitif time, not for the wine, I certainly couldn’t stomach that, but for the salted nuts and crisps that were on offer.  Now all I wanted to eat was salt, washed down with ice cold sparkling water. The water I may have drunk previously but the salted nuts and crisps were always a big no, no on my list, but now I couldn’t get enough of them!

And then dinner time would come and my stomach would turn once again. I don’t know what it was but the smell of Thai food just made me feel sick.  It didn’t help that my brother’s partner developed a love of textured soya protein, so we ended up having various kinds of it as the base (if not the only constituent part) of our vegetarian meals throughout our stay, and I just absolutely could not stand it.  Even now the thought of it makes me feel sick.  Thankfully I was able to eat rice and that was really the main staple for me at those meals.

Still nausea and food aside it was a great trip. I was incredibly tired during much of it but of course I could indulge in lying by the pool and chilling out without having anyone else to think about but myself. I even managed to enjoy a few massages and I got to attend a few yoga classes in Chiang Mai, which always eased my sickness. I also joined E and the folks on a walk through a National Park, although sadly I had to give the zip wire/tree walking a miss as it wasn’t suitable for pregnant ladies.

It was whilst I was in Thailand that I started reading up on birth. A few years earlier I had trained as a pregnancy yoga teacher with a lovely lady who lived in Surrey and who was very passionate about home and vaginal delivery.  She had certainly inspired me with her tales and had directed me to a few books which she highly recommended on the subject.  One of these was called “Birthing from Within” by Pam England, which I had read previously in terms of educating myself to be able to assist my students and I had lent the book to a number of them who found it very inspiring.  Now here I was reading it for myself and I too was inspired.

I had been given another book called “Gentle Birth, Gentle Mothering” by Sarah Buckley, which was also interesting, especially in terms of the various scans and tests, which are carried out during pregnancy, and she also advocated a natural approach to delivery.  My brother’s partner is also a pregnancy yoga teacher and helps to facilitate pregnancy training courses. She is also very passionate about home birthing, having birthed my niece at home with an independent midwife and doula present, so she was keen to educate me on this too.

I was aware that I was now entering a whole new world and that there was a lot yet to learn. While I had the time, I emailed our local doula, Anita, back in Guernsey to share news of my pregnancy and to enquire into her availability for the birth and to find out more about access to independent midwives in Guernsey. Little did I know how much she would inspire me and how passionate I would become about birth.

The word doula comes from the ancient Greek meaning “a woman who serves” and is now used to refer to a woman experienced in childbirth who guides women and their partners through the process of preparing for birth, supporting them during labour and the birth, and subsequent bonding with the new-born. A birth doula recognises birth as a key experience that the mother will remember all her life.

She understands the physiology of birth and the emotional needs of a woman in labour, and assists the woman in preparing for and carrying out her plans for birth. She stays with the woman throughout her labour (if this is her choice), providing emotional support, physical comfort measures and an objective viewpoint, as well as helping the woman obtain the information she needs to make informed decisions.

She also facilitates communication between the labouring woman, her partner and her clinical care providers. She perceives her role as nurturing and protecting the woman’s memory of the birth experience and allows the woman’s partner to participate at his/her comfort level. Studies have shown that when doulas attend birth, labours are shorter with fewer complications, babies are healthier and they breastfeed more easily

She can also offer her services postpartum so that she provides companionship and non-judgmental support during the fourth trimester.  Here she can provide evidence-based information on emotional and physical recovery from birth, infant feeding, infant soothing and coping skills for new parents, as well as making appropriate referrals when necessary.  In short she is an angel and I was keen to have as many angels as I could in my life.

An independent midwife is also an angel but just in a different capacity. She is someone who has chosen to work outside the hospital service in a self-employed capacity to provide pregnancy care. The legal role of a midwife encompasses the care of women and babies during pregnancy, birth (and home birth) as well as the early weeks of motherhood. Usually one private midwife gives care to a woman and her family throughout a pregnancy.

Thus, having established a trusting relationship, the same independent midwife cares for the woman as she births her baby and supports the family afterwards. Research has shown that many women want this type of midwifery and pregnancy care, which they do not always receive from their local health care provider, and that it helps women to cope with the challenges of labour and the transition to parenthood.

The vast majority of births attended by independent midwives are home births, but they can also be present at planned hospital births too. Independent midwives have more freedom to practice individualised care compared to those working within the hospital environment, who may be restricted by guidelines and protocols.

Independent midwives are still regulated by the Nursing and Midwifery Council and they’re subject to the same supervision as those midwives working in hospitals. They’re required to keep up to date with their practice and are only allowed to act within their sphere of competence as midwives.

For me as the conception had been so medicalised, I was keen to ensure that the birth was as natural as possible. I wanted to avoid any intervention, especially as I was aware that intervention can lead to more intervention and to a potentially medicalised birthing experience. I was very aware how over time birth has become a medicalised experience and as a result of this, the emphasis has shifted from the mother to the baby, so that the mother was – and in many cases continues to be – overlooked in the whole birthing experience.

As Dr Christiane Northrup writes, “Labour and delivery often go well. Yet as a society we continue to treat the normal process of birth with hysteria. High anxiety about pregnancy and birth is partly the result of our collective unresolved birth trauma – nearly every one of us has unfinished business about her or his own birth that we keep projecting on to pregnant women. Most baby boomers, after all, were born drugged and were whisked away from their mothers to the glaring lights and sterility of the hospital nursery. The Second World War generation was born at home. Then birth became medicalised and moved into the hospital. Though the mortality rate fell we lost a great deal of birthing wisdom with this shift.

I have seen cemeteries strewn with the headstones of women who died young, surrounded by the graves of their dead children. Most of these deaths and traumas resulted from poor nutrition, overwork and lack of maternal support, not necessarily from lack of sophisticated medical intervention”.

The trouble is, these days, birth often involves some form of intervention, which in many cases is probably unnecessary but sadly part of what’s accepted as normal.  For example, studies show that most of the women in the UK will have experienced at least one of the following routine medical interventions:

·      Caesarean section

·      Induction

·      Artificial rupture of membranes

·      Continuous electronic foetal monitoring

·      Epidural anaesthesia, episiotomy and recumbent birthing position.

The more I read the more I began to discover that childbirth has become an increasingly medicalised phenomenon whereby the majority of women no longer experience or have knowledge of what it is to give birth to their baby without interference. It would seem that almost all women who give birth in hospital are subjected to a cascade of medical and technological interventions throughout pregnancy and birth.

I researched a little further and discovered that since 1985, the international healthcare community has considered the ideal rate for Caesarean sections to be between 10-15% (see World Health Organisation). However, statistics collated by the NHS for 2013-14 showed that the Caesarean rate was nearer to 26.2%.

I also discovered that when medically necessary, a Caesarean section can effectively prevent maternal and new-born mortality but two new studies show that when Caesarean section rates rise towards 10% across a population, the number of maternal and new-born deaths decreases. However, when the rate goes above 10%, there is no evidence that mortality rates improve.

As Dr Christiane Northrup further writes, “The medical system participates fully in treating childbirth as an emergency needing a cure. Because of its addictive, patriarchal nature, the medical system becomes the symbolic ‘husband’ for all women crying, “Jerry, do something!” And believe me, doctors are trained in many ways to ‘do something’. Each of our doings has a price.

Some studies show, for instance, that epidural anaesthesia increase the rate of Caesarean section because this anaesthesia relaxes the pelvic floor muscles, causing the baby to engage with the head in what’s called the occiput posterior position – facing up. It’s much harder to push a baby out when she is in this position; it also slows down the process and may add to the baby’s distress. Epidurals are also a metaphor for current mind/body split approach to childbirth: ‘I want to be awake and intellectually aware, but I don’t want to feel my body”.

I researched further and found that NHS statistics for the period 2013-14 also show a continuing upward trend in induction rates, increasing by 1.7% during that year to 25%. The World Health Organisation recommends induction of labour should only be performed when there’s a clear medical indication for it and the expected benefits outweigh its potential harms.

In applying the recommendations, the World Health Organisation says that consideration must be given to the actual condition, wishes and preferences of each woman, with emphasis being placed on cervical status, the specific method of induction of labour and associated conditions such as parity and rupture of membranes. They recommend that induction of labour should only be performed with caution since the procedure carries the risk of uterine hyper-stimulation and rupture and foetal distress.

And yet it seems that induction has become common place.  I’ve lost count of the number of times I hear of women being induced and being deprived of the opportunity to connect with their body wisdom and allow their body to do what it needs to do naturally.  They are continuously monitored and in effect strapped to a bed so that they cannot move nor can they allow their bodies the opportunity to find the optimal position for birth.

Before they know it they have agreed to an epidural and then can’t feel what their body is doing, they are full of fear and the baby senses this and the medical staff are concerned about the signs of foetal distress. Hands then begin probing to check for thinning/contracting of cervix and electrodes are placed on the baby’s head.

Is it any surprise that the baby gets distressed? It’s been happy in there for 40 weeks (or whatever the term is) of its growing life safely protected by Mum and now here it is being probed before it has even entered the world. Plus of course it can sense poor Mum’s fear and the stress which accompanies this.

Thus it follows that the mother is no longer capable of birthing her baby and she is wheeled down to theatre to have her baby extracted, born into the bright lights and sterility of such an environment in front of strangers who know nothing or her and nor her of them.  Welcome to the world baby, what a way to begin!

By this stage, as the mother you’re just delighted and relieved, your baby’s arrived safely and everyone keeps telling you this. You try to put aside any concerns that there’s something wrong with your body which means that it cannot birth naturally and try not to reflect on how different things could be…the baby’s safe that’s all that matters…

But here’s the thing, of course it goes without saying that you want to birth a healthy baby, but at some point the care shifted from it being also about the Mum to just being about the baby and that’s unfortunate really. The medical model of childbirth assumes that the female body is always ready to fail.

Childbirth is now seen as a highly risky business. The majority of women who give birth in hospital do so because they assume that a hospital birth is safest. However, all the research evidence that exists demonstrates that, for a healthy woman with a normal pregnancy, a planned home birth is as safe as a hospital birth (BirthChoiceUK, 2005). In spite of this research evidence, not everybody agrees, and many health care professionals insist on claiming that a medicalised hospital birth is still the safest option.

Reactions to the medicalisation of birth have been various. For some women, the technology and surveillance that is brought to bear on the birthing body is welcomed as a comforting presence to help ensure that the baby remains safe and well.

Whilst it is essential that this is recognised, one has to question the underlying reason for the practice, in terms of litigation and making life easier for medical staff. For example, a reason women are encouraged to birth on their backs, even though this makes no sense physiologically and will only serve to make the whole process much more challenging and much more painful, is because it makes it easier for medical staff to see what’s going on.

As Dr Christiane Northrup writes, “During my training, when foetal monitoring came in and the Caesarean section rate began to soar, I remember thinking, “How can it be that 25% of women aren’t able to go through a normal physiological event without the aid of anaesthesia and major surgery? How could the human race have possibly survived if this many women really need major surgery to give birth. What is going wrong here?

I was taught that I must treat everyone as though she was going to have a potential complication, as if normal labour could turn into crisis at a moment’s notice. Whenever a woman arrived in labour, we immediately put in an intravenous drip, took blood, ruptured her membranes – broke the amniotic sac (‘bag of waters’) surrounding the baby – screwed a foetal scalp electrode into the baby’s head and threaded a catheter into the mother’s uterus to measure intra-uterine pressure on the foetal monitor. Then she and her family, the doctors and the nurses all fixed their gazes on the monitor and pretty much relied on it to tell us what to do next. The women was asked to labour in a position that gave the best monitor tracing – not the one that felt best to her…

…later, studies would show that foetal monitoring did not actually improve perinatal outcome when compared with a nurse listening to the heart rate periodically. What it did do was increase Caesarean section rates – a great example of technology ‘catching on’ before all the data were in. Monitoring has its place – I’m not against it. It simply is not a substitute for caring, human interaction, though it is often used as one….

 Unfortunately, the beliefs that support hospital procedures are often so pervasive that even those women who enter hospital wanting natural childbirth often end up with some kind of intervention. This is because a woman in labour is highly vulnerable. If she is not supported in her labour process by people who truly trust labour and see it as normal, she can be talked in to just about anything”.

Taking this all into consideration, it wasn’t perhaps surprising that that I was keen to do all I could to promote a straightforward homebirth with people around me who supported me and believed in the wisdom and power of my body. I imagined birthing at home in the peace and quiet of my own spiritual space, providing me with the opportunity to truly tap into my body’s innate wisdom and trust in that.

I felt that to have the chance of achieving this I would benefit from employing the services of an independent and intuitive midwife with whom I could establish a close and indeed trusting relationship and a doula who would be able to attend to my needs before, during and after birth. Anita was my chosen doula and she was delighted to take on that role.

Unfortunately, we don’t have an independent midwife living on Guernsey so I knew that I would need to engage the services of an independent midwife from England. Anita kindly put me in contact with an independent midwife who certainly sounded ideal but I quickly realised that it was going to cost us a lot of money, not least in terms of her fee for the delivery itself (quite understandable incidentally) but in terms of the fact we would need to establish a relationship which would mean paying for flights backwards and forwards between the UK and Guernsey. 

Furthermore, the independent midwife would need to be on the Island well in advance of the due date and we would need to provide her with accommodation during this period at our expense. I discussed the matter with E but he was not keen.  I must admit the thought of having someone in our space for the weeks leading up to the birth didn’t resonate with me as I am very precious about my need for space and especially at home.

Furthermore, we didn’t feel that we could justify the expense of the independent midwife.  My mind however was absolutely set on Anita as my doula and while E was a little resistant due to the fact he wasn’t sure of the role he would play, I was keen to make sure I was booked up and could be assured of her presence on D-day!! So that was that decided while we were away!

The IVF Journey Part 8 - Twins?

It was a strange few weeks after I found out I was pregnant.

I was technically 4-weeks pregnant the day we took the test with thirty-six weeks to go until the estimated due date, based on a gestation period of forty weeks.  I found it difficult to get my head around this initially because I’d always been led to believe that a pregnancy lasts 9 months, which it does in terms of when you find out you are pregnant (and have therefore missed a period) but officially it is counted from the date of your last period, or the date of whichever part of your IVF cycle mimics this.

We were due a scan between 6-7 weeks to confirm the pregnancy and to determine if I was still carrying the 2 embryos implanted - an embryo is defined as the developing pregnancy from time of fertilization until the end of the eighth week of gestation when it become known as the foetus. Other than the scan, we had now completed the IVF process and life was strangely quiet.

I know I’m not the only lady who has gone through IVF who has found this transition challenging. You go from following a rigid treatment session and receiving an awful lot of attention to all of that suddenly stopping.  It felt a little like being in limbo land. I was pregnant, but didn’t feel any different to how I normally felt. In those early days of pregnancy post IVF, there was no indication to me or to anyone else that life was significantly changing.

In fact, life continued much as usual and the day after finding out I was pregnant, I was leading my bi-annual Yoga & Wellbeing Retreat on the Island of Herm, a 20-minute boat journey from Guernsey. Fortunately, my Mum had taken care of much of the organising for me, so it was less stressful than it may have been ordinarily. It felt like it was perfectly timed actually because retreats are incredibly uplifting, even if you’re the one facilitating.

There is something about the collective energy of bringing people together with the common purpose of practicing yoga and increasing their sense of wellbeing that always leaves me feeling high spirited.  Furthermore, Herm is a fabulous place to retreat as you cannot help but feel more deeply connected to nature and the elements when you spend time there. It’s incredibly grounding and healing.

Also, I loved the fact that the embryos were already being bathed in this beautiful Herm yoga retreat energy at 4 weeks gestation. Not that I would ever know how this would affect their development or influence their growth or personality in the future, but I liked that yoga and Reiki had been in their lives since conception. It felt complimentary to their lightness, to immerse them in the lightness of the energies of these spiritual and healing practices.

It was a wonderful weekend and I was on a massive high just knowing I was pregnant. Perhaps because of this, I experienced one of those moments where everything just felt right. It was Saturday afternoon between classes, and I was practising yoga on my own in the main studio space in front of views of the sea and the East coast of Guernsey. Deva Premal’s beautiful voice filled the room and there was the faint smell of sandalwood in the air.

I sat on my mat with my hands on my tummy so that I could feel the energy of the embryos inside me.  All of a sudden I was overcome with that incredible and momentary feeling of peace. It was a split second, it came and went so quickly. But in that moment I felt expansive and aware that absolutely everything was as it was meant to be. All was well. It’s the most magnificent feeling of utter joy and peace that happens so infrequently that the moments become memorable.

Poor E on the other hand, while jubilant that the IVF had worked, was still struggling with his back, to the extent that he was now using a stick to help him walk. The fact we didn’t know if I was carrying 1 or 2 embryos was weighing heavily on him. I was convinced I was pregnant with twins and while I was anxious about how this would play out during pregnancy and birth, I didn’t give it too much consideration beyond then.  E, on the other hand, was constantly questioning how we would cope.

Those 2 weeks between the retreat and the scan seemed to drag on. E started seeing a new doctor who was adamant that he didn’t need surgery, so he was feeling a little more positive and empowered, the fear was losing its grip a little.  Still we were both anxious about the scan and we tried to keep the energy light as we sat in the MSG waiting area for our appointment, I was then 6 weeks and 2 days pregnant.

I could still feel the energy inside me albeit denser now than it had been at the beginning so I was feeling confident.  Our Specialist was delighted that I was pregnant and didn’t waste any time in getting me scanned.  It was yet another transvaginal ultrasound as this is the safest and clearest way of seeing an embryo at this very early stage of pregnancy. At 6 week’s gestation, an embryo is generally between 5-9mm long, which is very tiny.

So there I was again, legs in stirrups as the Specialist inserted a probe up into my vagina. I was getting a little over all this by now. Still, I didn’t have too much time to reflect, because all of a sudden we were able to see a heart beating on the screen to my side. A heart beating! It was truly incredible. There on the screen, at 6 week’s gestation, was the tiniest little heart beating away very quickly, double the rate of an adult heart. I’ll never forget this.

E and I looked at each other, huge smiles on our faces, this was real, and there on the screen was the heart to prove it, a heart created by the love and union of our hearts. It’s amazing. Certainly I would never have chosen the path of IVF if we had been able to conceive naturally, yet here we were, because of the IVF able to witness new life like this, it was a privilege and a joy.

In the spiritual world we talk of all life being about love, and here to prove this – to me at least – was the image of our 6-week old embryo as a single beating heart! I was beginning to recognise the blessings in the challenge that is conception through IVF. As an energy worker I was continuously learning about the energetics of new life, of all life, of the purity of the energy of love – the heart beating on the screen proved this to me. We are all heart, there is only love.

However, we’d only seen one visible heart and while the specialist managed to find what looked like the sack of the other embryo there was no heart beating. Still there was hope as he advised that it may be just a little bit too early to detect a heartbeat, so we’d need to check again the following week. Either that or it hadn’t made it.

I knew as he said those words that there wasn’t going to be another one. But I wasn’t ready to accept it just then. I’d had my heart set on twins. I hadn’t considered that we may lose one of the embryos as everything else had gone to plan. It was a weird feeling. On the one had I was ecstatic about seeing the growing embryo, the heart beat within me, and delighted that I was pregnant with this new life, but also strangely upset at the potential loss of the other one.

We had to wait a further 2 weeks for the next scan and in many respects this was ideal.  It gave me a little time to process things. I still had hope that I was carrying twins, but at the same time, I was also aware that this was unlikely to be a reality.  It was another weird limbo time although by now I was experiencing morning sickness so the reality of the pregnancy was hitting home. We were due to go away on holiday the day after the scan, so by the time it came around, I was just keen to know.

It was a different Specialist this time so no stirrups. This was a blessing – it seems they all have their own way of doing things. I doubt there is any lady comfortable with legs in stirrups. It’s insane to me to think that women used to have to give birth in this position, but that’s another story. For now, it was all about the second embryo and sadly it seemed that it had indeed died. I was pregnant with what was now a healthy growing foetus and that was that.

I was upset. It sounds ridiculous I know.  I was very lucky, I had a healthy foetus inside me, and I realise that some ladies don’t even get that opportunity.  But for all intents and purposes, I had miscarried and this hurt. I questioned whether I had done something wrong, I had played competitive netball not long after conceiving and I wondered whether that may have created the loss. Or perhaps I should have practiced yoga differently.  All these thoughts ran through my head.

Until that point, I’d never really understood how women could feel loss over an early pregnancy miscarriage.  But now I understood.  It doesn’t matter how that embryo was conceived, or the period of its gestation, you can still create an immediate emotional bond with it, as you excitedly imagine your future with a new baby in it.  To have that then taken away from you, or at least to feel that this is then taken away from you, is heart breaking.

I’ve no idea how women cope when they repeatedly miscarry. It must be soul destroying.  I felt a new level of respect for all the ladies I knew who had miscarried. It was humbling to gain this new level of awareness. The Universe works in mysterious ways at times. The IVF journey was not something I would have chosen as an opportunity for spiritual growth, but that was exactly what it was presenting to me.

Not only was I encouraged to be more open minded and do a whole 360 turn on my perception of the medical world and science, so that I had a new level of respect for both, but I was being encouraged to open my mind and be less judgemental.  Through my experiences I was also learning a lot about the energetics of new life, initial pregnancy and loss so this may make me a more aware and compassionate yoga teacher, healer and indeed human being. 

My life was taking on a new direction in more ways than one. I was now 8 weeks and 2 days pregnant now and I was certainly feeling the changes in my body.  My breasts were heavy and achy, my nose was super sensitive to smell, I experienced an overwhelming sense of tiredness, and I felt nauseous and yucky. Urgh! It was both incredibly unsettling but also reassuring to know that the embryo was working its magic and my body was adjusting to the new growth.

I visited my GP to formally advise her that I was pregnant and to enter into another system, the pregnancy one this time.  My doctor was delighted for us and sent me away with a pack of information to add to the pile of books I had waiting for me at home. It was clearly time to educate myself on pregnancy and birth. One thing I already knew however was that I really wanted a vaginal home delivery, that was my new mission…

The IVF Journey Part 7 - The Pregnancy Test Waiting Game

The limited boat schedule meant that we had to spend an additional 48 hours in the UK following embryo transfer. This was a blessing in many respects as it prevented me from rushing around as I have a tendency to do at home.  Resting has never come easily to me, embryo transfer or not. However, it wasn’t quite the uneventful and restful time we had anticipated.

The day following embryo transfer we pottered around the South Downs visiting Stansted House which is a Grade II Listed Edwardian country house set on a 1,750-acre estate within the South Downs National Trust.  It is well worth a visit if you happen to be in the area.  It has a fabulous arboretum, which was a delight for E, not least because he’s a tree surgeon with a passion for trees, but because it distracted him from the increasing pain in his back.

From there we drove to Petworth Park which is host to incredible gardens designed by Lancelot Capability Brown.  I studied Capability Brown at University so it was a big deal for me to see his work first hand. Capability Brown is reputed as the super-guru of parkland landscaping. He was hired at Petworth in 1751 and it is said that he left hardly a square foot of the gardens untouched.  It’s amazing!

We had a wonderful day together and I was expecting us to return to the hotel for dinner that evening before lazing around on the bed watching TV - a treat as I would soon be teaching yoga again most evenings. However, E had other ideas. The pain in his back was acute and he was now experiencing shooting pains down his left leg. He became increasingly anxious and felt he needed to see a doctor.

So it followed that my imagined restful TV night remained exactly that; imagined!  Instead I found myself driving E to Southampton on the M27 at speed, in the dark, and with rain pelting on the windscreen.  Not fun! And to be honest we were silly really because we were staying just up the road from Portsmouth but E thought it better to return to Southampton as he had already visited their A&E department at the beginning of the trip.  Big mistake!

It was Sunday early evening after all, and while we’ll never know if Portsmouth would have been any better, Southampton A&E department was jam-packed. I’ve never known anything like it, we’re certainly spoilt in Guernsey. Triage prioritised E to the bottom of the list, which was positive on the one hand but did mean a long wait for us on very uncomfortable plastic seats.  This was not quite the relaxing evening I had in mind.

By 8pm I was anxious for food.  The clinic encourages healthy eating for successful implantation and here I was stuck in an A&E department with only a snack machine at my disposal or a fast-food establishment in the main hospital itself (get that, fast food in a hospital!). This left me with little choice but to head out on my own in the car to try and find something to eat and then try and navigate my way back to the hospital successfully again.

I managed it though, finding a Coop and buying myself a pre-packaged salad, which I ate in the car. It wasn’t ideal and I felt a little sorry for myself. This was not what I had in mind for adequately feeding the little embryos hopefully growing inside me! Still one does what one needs to do and I had never seen E in quite so much pain. Fortunately, by the time I returned E had moved from the waiting room into the A&E treatment area.

It wasn’t until 10.30pm however that E was finally seen by a doctor. The doctor carried out the usual tests to determine that there was no apparent nerve damage, before sending E on his way with a prescription for drugs he already had. While it felt a little like a wasted journey, at least E was reassured that there was nothing massively serious going on and he could carry on life as normal, at least until we got home and he could see his own GP. 

Being a holistic therapist it was absolutely no surprise to me that E’s back had deteriorated whilst we had been undertaking the IVF.  As a potentially older first time dad, and one who had, until a few years earlier, been very non-committal about, well commitment really, it was inevitable that this potentially hugely life changing and committed event would unground him and test his roots.

Furthermore, E’s back is where he carries his stress and if ever there was a stressful time to be had, then IVF is up there. It’s easy to overlook the stress that partners go through during IVF. While it may be us women going through the injecting and the scans, the egg recovery and embryo transfer, the men are going through their own process too. They often feel at a loss to know how to help, especially if the need for IVF is due to male fertility issues. It’s a testing time for everyone.

Leaving the hospital late that evening, I was initially irritated with E for getting himself so worked up about the IVF and his back pain.  I felt like he was stealing my thunder, which is a terrible thing to say, but I was supposed to be resting and looking after myself in that critical 48 hour-period. Instead, here I was driving us both back to our hotel at 11pm in the pitch black and the continuous rain when I should have been tucked up in bed.

I came around to seeing the funny side and we still joke about it this day; how he couldn’t cope with it being all about me and made sure it was now all about him instead! It certainly was all about him those next few days because he continued to be in huge amounts of pain. It didn’t help that we had to endure a 7-hour ferry crossing back to Guernsey the next day. For me it was ideal however as I got to rest and channel lots of Reiki onto my tummy.

It felt a little strange arriving back in Guernsey that Monday afternoon. We had gone away the 2 of us yet here we were – in theory - returning 4 of us instead. Everything looked the same, yet we had changed. Our relationship had deepened, how could it not. But it was more than that. Without having to say anything to each other, we both knew that life would never be the same again, regardless of whether the IVF worked.

I was still feeling confident of success however, although the fact we still had to wait 10 days to take a pregnancy test was unnerving. Waiting does not come easily to me. I’ve always had a tendency to impatience and this has frequently been tested these past few years. I doubt that there has ever been a single lady going through IVF who has felt calm, collected and patient during this twelve to fourteen-day period (twelve days for blastocysts, fourteen days for embryos).

I tried to keep busy so that the time would pass quickly. I returned to working in the office and teaching yoga again. I offered Reiki treatments too. No one would have known what we had just been through, it was very much life as usual to the outside world. Inside however, I was doing what I could to hold it together, dropping deeply into my spiritual practice to try and keep my faith and spirit high during this decidedly edgy time. 

I was fortunate in that I could feel the new life growing inside me, which helped enormously. As someone who works with energy it was incredibly exciting to feel such vibrant and pure energy, the spark of new life. As the days went on, the energy changed and it began to feel like running your hands over a string of pearls. It’s like the energy becomes a little more contained, a little heavier, but with movement, a circular movement as they grow inside. 

It really was amazing to be able to feel energy like this, a real blessing. I really wish every lady who undertakes IVF could feel this, not least because its like nothing else, but because at least you know then that the embryo is still alive and growing inside you and this can give you so much comfort. It really is such a horrible time, especially if you’ve suffered a failed cycle previously.

For us, this was our first time and we had no reason to doubt the process.  We had done what was asked of us and deep down I had this unwavering faith that it was all going to be ok. It wasn’t until a few years later that I discovered what it feels like when you don’t have this faith - it makes for an extremely stressful and anxious wait, at a time when you should be keeping your stress and anxiety levels to a minimum.

That’s not to say that during this time there weren’t moments of doubt and fear.  The mind is tricky like that. Fear I find particularly fascinating as it feels so real and yet it’s not real at all. It translates as “False Evidence Appearing Real” and if you can remind yourself of this when you feel it taking hold then it helps enormously in recognising it for what it is and letting it go. It’s not easy though.

I’ve no doubt that my daily meditation practice helped enormously in keeping my mind strong and focused during this time. I would wholeheartedly encourage any lady going through IVF to carve out some time in your day to just sit with what’s coming up.  Even just 5 minutes can make a huge difference to centre and check in daily. It’s in this way that you come to recognise the illusion that is fear and the negative thinking that accompanies this.

I also made sure to allow time after my asana practice for a Yoga Nidra.  I’ve mentioned it previously but Yoga Nidra really is incredible and everyone, regardless of whether they are going through IVF or not, should try and practice one regularly.  It’s incredibly grounding and centring and helps to reinforce a positive state of being.  I worked with the Sankalpa, or intention for the practice of “I am pregnant” to help to make this more of a reality.

During this waiting period I also did a huge amount of praying and talking to the angels. I love the angels and make no apology for this. Since they’ve been in my life, they have provided much comfort and guidance. I certainly felt their presence during this time which helped to buoy my spirits. I regularly read my angel cards and during this period the “child” and “new beginnings” cards kept flying out, which certainly helped!

I also noticed white feathers in front of my path, which are a sign that the angels are surrounding you and that all is well - there is a Divine Plan to all life! I noticed robins during this period too. They are believed to be another sign that the angels are with you and that it is time to sing your own song for a new period in your life. They will also teach you how to incorporate new beginnings with faith and trust in the process, which seemed incredibly appropriate.

I was channelling Reiki into my tummy at every available opportunity – I also wish every lady going through IVF could be Reiki attuned to be able to do this. I enjoyed going for Reiki treatments too. I was keen to do all I could to ground and balance my energy. I walked and swam as often as I could, but avoided strenuous activity like netball, which I had been playing prior to IVF. I also kept a low profile socially and retreated as best I could.

E was very much forced to retreat during this time as his back had become so bad that he spent his days lying on the sofa or floor drugged up on very strong painkillers. He had been to see his GP and was awaiting a referral to see a surgeon in Exeter. It was tough for him; he wasn’t able to distract himself from the impending pregnancy test other than by watching an awful lot of Miami Vice!

I was fascinated by his chronic condition and the mind-body connection. I truly believe that much of his physical pain at that time was a result of the mental and emotional stress that the IVF was causing. He was adrift, completely outside of his comfort zone and with that, he had zero grounding.  I did what I could by way of Reiki and yoga therapy, but I knew that it would eventually improve once our future was clearer.

As D-day finally approached I was excited about what lay ahead. I could still feel the energy of new life within me and I had this knowingness that all was well. Still that didn’t stop me sleeping fitfully the night before I was due to take the test. I woke regularly to check the time and the energy of the embryos in my tummy; I was longing for morning to arrive. It’s always the same, the more you long for morning, the longer it takes to arrive.

By 5.30am E and I had had quite enough. We were both keen to just get it over with now. I felt the energy of the new life in my tummy before leaping out of bed and almost running to the bathroom. I had butterflies and was shaking a little. I re-read the information pack even though I had read it the day before and probably the day before that too, wanting to ensure that I didn’t make a mistake and waste the kit.

There was nothing more for it than to get on with it. I peed on the stick for the allocated time and replaced the cap before joining E back in the bedroom and passing it to him.  I didn’t want to have to check the result – I remember doing the same with my degree, I didn’t want to be the first one to find out. I wanted someone else to take the responsibility!

E timed the 2 minutes on his watch as we both sat anxiously not really knowing what to do with ourselves. I suspect I fussed around a little, tidying or something, I don’t really remember.  I do know that it felt like an awfully long time.

Finally, the 2 minutes was up and I hid my head in E’s chest as he looked at the test and told me what I already knew – I was pregnant!  I could have danced with joy. The IVF had worked and I was jubilant! E was absolutely relieved. I couldn’t stop smiling and just wanted to tell the world! Phew!

The IVF Journey Part 6 - Embryo Transfer

Embryo transfer – or in this case blastocyst transfer – was due to take place late morning on a wintry March 2nd 2013. In many respects it was perfect timing. I’m a Pagan at heart and and we were a month away from having celebrated Imbolc, which in the Celtic seasonal calendar marked the beginning of the lambing season and signalled the beginning of Spring and the stirrings of new life – the reawakening of the Earth.

The original word Imbolg means “in the belly”, which explains the underlying energy of this time. All is pregnant and expectant – and only just visible if at all – like the gentle curve of a “just-showing” pregnancy. It brings with it the promise of renewal, of hidden potential, of earth awakening and life-force stirring. There is hope, light at the end of the tunnel. It is a time to celebrate the returning light and witness Life’s insatiable appetite for rebirth.

This is a time to let go of the past and look to the future, clearing out the old, and making both outer and inner space for new beginnings. It’s a good time for spring cleaning and wish-making. It’s also a good time to prepare for what you wish to accomplish in the months ahead. At this time, you will want to clarify and refine what you began to work on at Yule.

Imbolc is also a time for celebrating the Celtic Goddess Brigid. Brigid is the Goddess of Poetry, Healing, Smithcraft and Midwifery. She is the Goddess of fire, of the sun and of the hearth. She brings fertility to the land and its people and is closely connected to midwives and new-born babies. She is the triple Goddess (maiden, mother and crone) but at Imbolc she is in her Maiden and virgin aspect.

It was appropriate therefore. I was a Maiden wanting to become a Mother. Ripe with new potential and the stirrings of new-life force. I had begun the journey some time ago, but made my intentions very clear at Yule. The dream of pregnancy was now becoming more of a reality, and it felt like nature was supporting this with her Spring energy. On some level, unconscious though I had been of it, it was indeed perfect timing for new beginnings!

We were the only patients in the clinic that morning, which made the clinic feel less clinical somehow, more relaxed and personal. It helped that the consultant and nurse were both known to us too. They were the ones we had initially met in Guernsey, and who had been with us at our initial appointment in the clinic in January, the consultant having delivered the good news that we could begin ICSI.

It’s funny really how life unfolds. Initially when E and I first talked about having a baby, I prayed for a very conscious conception.  And now here we were experiencing exactly that.  Admittedly it was absolutely not in the manner I had imagined – think beautiful environment with rose petals brightening the room, candles flickering and atmospheric music playing in the background – but a conscious moment nonetheless.

It’s a good reminder that we must be careful what we wish for, and to let go of any expectation of how our wish may manifest as it is rarely in the manner we anticipate. So here we found ourselves in a very clinical environment in Southampton, with monitors and scanners and a consultant and a nurse. It certainly wasn’t the stuff of dreams and I was aware that I was going to have to dig deep to find the spiritual in all this.

Still one does what one does and the clinic being less-clinic-like than it would be ordinarily (there being no other patients or members of staff rushing around) helped enormously. Our relationship with the consultant and nurse helped too. I feel very strongly that having a positive and friendly relationship with the staff supports the whole IVF process, and certainly makes embryo transfer the intimate experience it should be.

The appointment was running to schedule, which was a relief as my bladder was bothering me.  It has to be half full for the procedure but mine felt that it was fuller than this and it was too late to do anything about it! The nurse led us from the reception down the stairs to the theatre room. Here I was asked to remove my fluffy boots and leave them by the door, whilst E had to put what looked like blue plastic bags over his shoes.

We were then led into the theatre room where the consultant was busying herself. E was directed to the stool beside the bed and me to the bed itself as the embryologist joined us from the adjoining laboratory. She asked me to confirm my name to ensure that the blastocysts she was preparing for transfer were mine. This was certainly not a time for making mistakes and I was grateful for the security even if it did feel a little silly having to confirm who I was when it was obvious who I was!

The embryologist then showed us pictures of different quality blastocysts and explained that we had produced 3 very good quality grade blastocysts. Phew, this was a relief. It was certainly the outcome I had hoped and prayed for and I felt I had done all I could to help to achieve this, but of course you never really know, all you can do is be guided by your intuition. I felt pleased that my intuition had served me well and I felt quietly confident of a positive outcome now.

The embryologist advised that she had selected 2 of the blastocysts for transfer with the other remaining blastocyst being frozen for a future cycle (if we chose). It was strange.  As the embryologist explained this to us, I just had this all consuming feeling, a sense then, that that 1 remaining blastocyst would be very important to us one day. While I had certainly never intended to have 3 children, I also knew that there was no way I would be able to just let that blastocyst go to waste.

It was a situation I had discussed this with my IVF friend - the dilemma of what to do with any extra embryos that you may be lucky enough to create. It’s a wonderful position to find yourself in, when others have such difficulty in producing 1 quality embryo, let alone having a surplus like us. But it can create an issue because that’s potential new life in the embryos and it’s very difficult to just turn your back on that and let them go down the drain.

It was soon time for the transfer. While the embryologist returned to the laboratory to prepare the 2 chosen blastocysts, I was directed to a small changing cubicle at the side of the room to remove my tights and pants. From there I was directed onto the bed and had to shuffle down to its end so that my legs could be placed up into the dreaded stirrups again. E was still positioned beside me on his stool.

As we waited for the the embryologist to return, the lovely consultant took the opportunity to remind me what I should or shouldn’t be doing while we waited the twelve days until we could take a pregnancy test.  It was a little surreal hearing her talking about pregnancy tests, and especially that I may find myself pregnant in twelve day’s time.  It was really happening. Here we were, awaiting embryo transfer…which may well lead to pregnancy. Oh my gosh!

She reminded me to take the luteal support, which I had started taking a few days earlier in preparation for implantation and indeed pregnancy.  This is progesterone which is a hormone that helps to prepare the uterine lining to accept a fertilised egg and provide support for a developing embryo. It’s administered by way of a pessary, Cyclogest, which had to be inserted into the vagina morning and evening. Sore breasts and feeling emotional are the potential side effects.

The consultant mentioned a chance of some blood spotting and ‘period type’ pains following embryo transfer, and that one can feel a little bloated too. She explained that the embryos cannot become dislodged in the womb as they are held between the walls of the womb where surface tension forces are far greater than gravity. It was reassuring to hear this, because silly as it may sound it had crossed my mind and I didn’t want to do anything which may compromise a potential pregnancy.

She also advised that there is no current evidence to suggest that full and complete rest for the twelve days following transfer will improve the chances of a successful pregnancy. However, she did stress the fact that psychologically it’s important that a woman feels that she has done everything possible to promote potential implantation. Thus it’s a very personal choice about how you spend those twelve days.

There were things to avoid however, such as strenuous exercise, hot baths/saunas that raise your core body temperature, sexual intercourse, ibuprofen, smoky environments and drinking more than 3 caffeinated drinks a day. Other than that it was life as normal and I certainly intended to get back into the swing of things when I got home. I’ve never been one for sitting around and with twelve days to wait to take the test I knew that I would need to keep busy; that’s just my way!

The embryologist returned to the room and I re-confirmed my name to her, feeling particularly silly about doing so a second time! The consultant then set about inserting a small flexile catheter into my vagina, up through the cervical canal and into the womb.  We could see this all happening on the screen positioned at the end of the bed, the nurse sliding the ultra sound device over my tummy (and full bladder) to get the clearest view.

The sensation is similar to having a smear as I had been told to expect. It wasn’t painful as such, more so uncomfortable. I think it’s more the combination of the fact your legs are in stirrups, there’s pressure on your bladder and your cervix is making itself known to you. I gripped E’s hand and dropped my awareness to my breath, practicing the Ujaii breath, in and out, deepening the inhalation and lengthening the exhalation.

The consultant found what she believed to be the optimal position and before we knew it a star flashed on the screen as she released the blastocysts inside of me. It’s an amazing sight. My IVF friend had told me to look out for it and I’m pleased she did as it disappears quickly. I shall never forget that star though, the flash of life, all parts coming together, the essence of spirit, conception. It was truly magical.

Here’s another piece of advice for anyone going through IVF. Look for that star. It’s a blessing to be able to witness the vibrancy of life like this. Magical. It’s a fabulous reminder that we are all, essentially, stars. And to see this essence with your own eyes is a privilege. It was recorded on paper for us too so we will always have the reminder, although its forever etched in our memories and we still talk about it to this day.

The catheter was slowly removed and the embryologist was called back into the room to take it back to the lab to check that both blastocysts had indeed been released. It only took a short moment for her to confirm that yes, they’d both been released. With that my legs were released from the stirrups and I was helped off the bed and guided back to the changing area to put on my pants and tights. I was then able again to relieve my bladder, oh the relief!  

Then that was that.  It was certainly not the stuff of dreams! And it was absolutely not the environment I had in mind for the conscious conception either.  Nope, this was as clinical as you could get, quite literally in a clinic and with others watching on too.  Still here’s the thing, it was incredibly conscious because both E and I were incredibly, totally, utterly, absolutely aware, mindful, present and all those other words that mean you’re very conscious of that exact moment.

In truth if there’s one thing IVF brings you, it’s awareness of the process of conception.  How can you be anything but aware with all the appointments and scans, the drugs and examinations and everything having an exact timing to it? You certainly can’t pretend what’s happening.  You feel every single step of the journey from beginning to end.  Your nerves are tested time and time again.  There’s certainly no drunken “Wham, bam, thank you Mam” moments with IVF!

There’s also no certainty with IVF and both the nurse and the consultant wished us luck as we left the clinic. It was a roll of the dice. Back in the car we sat quietly for a moment, letting it all sink in. I couldn’t stop smiling. I was feeling very upbeat about everything. It had been a little like a whirlwind but here we were, procedure completed. With that I felt this overwhelming desire to give thanks.

So we drove straight to Salisbury, which has since become something of a place of pilgrimage for us both.  On the way I started channelling Reiki on my tummy, and I suddenly realised that I could feel the energy of the blastocysts inside me. It was truly incredible. It was an energy I had never felt previously and this both fascinated and overwhelmed me.

It’s difficult to put it into words but I have since come to recognise that it was the igniting energy of pure spirit. Its like the initial spark of a lighter or the initial flame of a candle.  It’s the momentary pause between an exhalation and an inhalation, the bit that causes the inhalation to arise again…it’s the energy of Imbolc, the Pagan festival of light, full of new beginnings and potential new life.

It’s the lightest and most expansive energy I have ever felt. So new and alive and vibrant. It’s difficult to liken it to anything else but I guess its a little like bottling up the energy at the very beginning of Spring. And here we were, at the very beginning of Spring too. There is magic in all life, the trouble is we are often too busy or too distracted to notice it.  Here I felt privileged and blessed to have the capacity to feel such magic within me. It’s pure unconditional love essentially.

In Salisbury we headed straight for the cathedral. I am repeatedly awestruck by the beauty of this magnificent building and place of worship.  It pulls me in.  There is something about its ancient energy that finds me gravitating to its walls, hands held against the cool stone. You can feel the love in the structure of the building and I wanted to infuse and bathe my body and my soul in this beautiful energy, so that the blastocysts would know they had come home.

I sat on my own at the very front of the cathedral, staring up at the stained glass windows ahead of me and losing myself in their magnificence. I’m not religious but spiritual certainly, and in that moment, my faith was stronger than it had ever been. Surprisingly, going through IVF had strengthened this. I felt like we had been supported and guided the whole way. Now I knew that I just had to maintain this faith and trust in the outcome whatever that may be.

For now, it was about doing what I felt to do to support the new life growing inside me. It was appropriate perhaps that the moon was waning and leading up to a new moon, which is a time for rest and energy restoration.  I intended to retreat with this waning energy. I prayed for Guidance and gave thanks. I now knew that I was about to be tested, not only in faith and trust but also in patience.