And I've been holding out on you. Sorry about that, I just didn't have it in me to post.

Tuesday the 26th was beta day. So of course I went in on Monday. And of course it was positive. Again. But not very. Again. However, despite previous experience I spent the whole of Monday in a delusional state where I believed - and I mean really believed - that this was it. I worked out my due date. I fretted about how to break the news to my cycle buddy, Jules, who that same day was picking up the pieces of another failed cycle. I decided to sleep on it.

On Tuesday common sense returned. Today I had a followup beta. hCG is dropping. Again. This time, unlike in the past, I've had morning sickness. It's still here. Just a little dry retching at the start and the end of the day. The spotting has continued at a constant rate.

I don't want to do another transfer. Not yet. I've lost my faith and I need to go wandering in the desert for a time. And the clinic agrees - they want me to wait things out pending further investigation. I am currently sticking with the plan of investigating in October, and going to Singapore in November. I don't know when the next cycle will be. I think it would be best to give it a rest until next year, but we all know how tempting it is to come back for more. I guess I'll still be around. You might have to put up with stories about my normal life.

Overall, I'm ok. I'm crying a little, but my tears are gentle and there is peace in this letting go.

I asked Mr Bea what his game was.

Yes, he knew about the pregnancy. Found out six months ago. His not mentioning it to me was, in his words, "One part tact, twelve parts cowardice." I asked him how many parts lack of forethought over the fact that I was going to find out sooner or later and the fickle hand of fate does not always have the sense of time and place that I expect from him.

But I hit the roof once, and I have calmed down. I think I've been waiting for that announcement all year. Common age gaps between siblings, you know. And I was preparing myself to spend the entire second and third trimesters sitting on the edge of my seat, thinking, "Surely... surely she can't get to point X in her pregnancy before ours even gets started." And then getting all upset when that did, in fact, happen. Suddenly, I find out it's done. I don't have to worry about it now. The race, you might say, is well and truly lost. I don't have to run it any more.

It also reminds me how much of my social life has gone. We last saw them in January. I was starting to get excited about my first round of injections. I was pissed off at them because they invited us around for a BBQ but asked me to leave my dog at home. So pissed off I petulantly refused to go to said BBQ and instead stayed home with the dog, thinking up lists of child-unfriendly places around town I could invite them to, just so I could feign disappointment when one or both of them had to decline on baby-sitting grounds. I blame the synarel. I'd snorted a couple of weeks worth by that stage. Maybe I should blame my innate childishness.

But mostly it gives me a guilty start, because of all the white lies I tell Mr Bea.

That I wasn't scared about the SCSA, because it's not the end of the world except I didn't know if I could do enough IVF cycles to have the child of a man whose DNA was unravelled and dishevelled and I was frightened about having to discuss donor sperm like it was something that applied to us immediately, because what if we couldn't decide or agree?

That I was looking forward to living in Singapore when I was also worried about all the uncertainties and IVF-related complications involved, and terrified of being on my own.

That I didn't think I was pregnant when, in fact, I did, because I didn't want to get his hopes up just to bring them crashing down.

That my blog is full of the kind of excerpts I send to him, and not the kinds of things I never let him read, because I don't want him to see me like this.

That I'm ok, and I believe I'm going to be ok, and I believe it will all be alright in the end...

So our language of love has become a language of little white lies. Life never used to be like this.

This email (with attached pictures) just landed in my inbox:

M., born 9.24am on September 22 by C-Section.

Weighed in at 7 pounds 12 ounces or 3.540 Kg for the metrically minded.

Same length as I. was when he was born (48cm) but an extra 800g
heavier (I. was 2.7kg/6pounds).

Everyone's happy and healthy and expected home on Wednesday morning.

B.

B is one of Mr Bea's friends from uni. They drink together every Friday night. Every fucking Friday night. And unless I am much mistaken, he just had his second child. So either... that was the shortest pregnancy ever to produce a baby that looks suspiciously full-term or...

And here it is.

First of all, my erotic dreams suck.

Last night, I dreamt I was having phone sex with Mr Bea, who was/is in a foreign country. I mean, it's a dream, for fuck's sake. It could have been on the beach of an exotic and deserted island, with the tropically warm waves crashing over our naked bodies and the sand magically not getting into uncomfortable crevices. We could have at least been in the same room. But no, because, see above re sucking.

And it gets worse.

Because in my dream I wasn't even listening to his sweet and stimulating eroticisms. In fact, I spent the whole time thinking, "Ooh! That's some great fertile cervical mucous! I wonder if that means..."

Anyone want to analyse that?

In real life, I don't have great fertile cervical mucous. I have the type of mucous one might expect to get when taking three pessaries a day. Every second day I also have bright red spotting, accompanied by what can best be described as a burning sensation in my pelvis. I also have a strange stitch on the right, near where I imagine my right ovary to be. It comes and goes. I've had a stomach upset, which seems to be have resolved now, so I've had the joy of nausea and diarrhoea without the suspicion that it means anything pregnancy-related. I'm tired. I'm emotional. I'm alone. I feel, in short, like a big pile of shit. On the plus side, my pores are fairly refined.

So, in general, I'm much, much better than the previous three FETs. Seriously. I'm coping well compared to them. I say this without sarcasm - I think I've actually stopped expecting things to be any different.

I'm even entertaining the idea of doing one last transfer this year because I'm such a freaking junkie and I just need one more hit... maybe we can use even more drugs this time but then that'll be it, I promise. Just one more, and then I'll walk away.

If you have not read my last post I beg, beg, beg you to do so now and reply with anything you can think of. Assvice/secret hope stories and whatever else you are wondering whether or not you should post as a comment because you think maybe it will sound really irritating and so no, actually, let's not post that well please please scrub that thought and actually post it because I promise I won't get mad.

I've written a novella on this subject for Mr Bea, but I'm going to give you the summary. (No, trust me - it's seriously long and tedious.) What it boils down to is this:

Either there is an explanation as to what's going on, or there isn't.

So I think the best thing is to spend October investigating thoroughly and treating any problems as best we can. And if it turns out, after exhausting all our tests, that there just isn't an explanation (which is unfortunately likely) then I should blame the IVF and take a break from it, just in case that helps. And if that doesn't help, well, I guess we're no worse off for trying. Hopefully no worse off.

I still need a full list of possibilities so we can be thorough in our investigation. Therefore - please keep sending me lots of assvice about luteal phase problems. Also, I'm thinking of gathering a second opinion just so we don't miss anything.

***Thankyou to those who have already replied to the last post - your comments helped immensely. At the end of the day, I guess I just want to know that what we're doing isn't completely pointless. At the moment that's the feeling I'm drowning in.

***Cervical Mucous Update***
PART ONE
No spotting last 22 hours. Good, except now, of course, I am completely re-evaluating my whole plan, and I had just got it looking like I wanted, too. Keep sending me info and advice. There's more of this debating what should be done if this, if that, before we're through. I'm ok though, just hungry for information.

I just got an email from Mr Bea (I asked him to google me stuff too). He asks if it's worth trying clomid. I think he may have a steep learning curve ahead of him.

PART TWO
Crap. Spoke too soon.

The only thing different is it's taken two less weeks for everything to go to shit. Which I admit is nice. *Update - actually I checked my maths. Better make that one less week.*

The spotting started six days post transfer/eight days post ovulation, on day 25 of my cycle. A hCG injection did nothing but make it difficult to sit down. Now he's advising more progesterone, and trying to tell me to be less upset because this one patient? this one time? had two days of bleeding (when her period was due) but she was actually pregnant and went on to have a beautiful baby. On her very first IVF transfer, too!

Which is almost exactly like my situation.

Don't you think?

Hysteroscopy is back on. Forgive me if I just don't see how this is fucking ever going to fucking work.

***I need help***

I don't need hugs and I don't need to know you're thinking of me. Ok, well, maybe I need that too. But mostly I need to know what is going wrong, why, and how to fix it. Please, please, please give me any thoughts you, your assvice-loving neighbour or your superfertile hairdresser may come up with.

The Story For Those Just Catching Up

Prior to February I was considered to be a perfectly fertile woman, married to an unfortunately infertile man. Bloods and ultrasounds - all normal, at all times. Cycle - only irregular under periods of duress (jetlag/night shift). Luteal phase - perfect 14 days.

Feb - IVF/ISCI #1, ET was cancelled due to OHSS and I spent 10 days in hospital.

March/April - rest cycle, 46 days.

May - FET#1 - natural cycle with LP support.
No follicle growth whatsoever on scan, and E2 levels rock bottom until about day 17. Then the ovaries seemed to wake up and go about their business as usual.
Ovulated day 25, transfer day 27.
LP support - pessaries twice daily, hCG injections 4dpt (day 31) and 8dpt (day 35).
Some spotting day 38 (11dpt, 13dpo).
Low positive beta day 42.
Beta levels dropping day 46.
AF arrived day 48.

June - FET #2 - natural cycle with LP support.
Normal follicle growth and hormone levels on day 12 (10mm follicle).
No further growth by day 17 (still a 10mm follicle). Slight growth by day 20.
Ovulated day 24, transfer day 26.
LP support 2 pessaries daily, hCG 4dpt and 8dpt as before.
Spotting started day 33 (7dpt, 9dpo). Continued on and off til AF arrived day 43.

August - FET #3 - OI cycle with LP support.
Normal follicle growth and hormone levels on day 12 (as for FET#2).
Interminably slow growth between days 12 and 19 - started FSH once follicle properly "dominant".
Ovulated day 25, transfer day 27.
Pessaries twice daily, hCG 4, 6 and 8dpt, IM this time.
Spotting started day 32 (5dpt, 7dpo). Continued daily until AF arrived day 44.
Low positive beta day 41.
PROGESTERONE LEVELS NORMAL THROUGHOUT LUTEAL PHASE (high 80's, where normal range is anything above 40-ish).

September - FET#4 - OI cycle with LP support.
No follicle growth yet day 8.
Started FSH day 9, ovulated single follicle day 17 (yes, I thought it was 16 too, but apparently I was wrong) - hormone levels normal throughout. Transfer day 19.
LP support one pessary daily, hCG 4, 8dpt.
Spotting started day 25 (6dpt, 8dpo).
Extra hCG given day 26. Pessaries increased to three per day.
Spotting continues unabated, appears to be worsening.
6 days til beta.

Why why why?