# 16 Pregnant and heartbroken

Forgive me, there is no way of telling this blog quickly.

With the never ending thoughts of lockdown back in the spring, I managed to get my husband to agree to talk to a doctor regarding our infertility again. After searching the internet like a mad woman, I found a clinic in a town about 40 minutes away from our home.

We took all our notes from previous treatments. The doctor laughed as he turned the pages and discovered I’d even kept my surgery hat from my first round ( I know, I’m a geek). He sat there and openly admitted if he hadn't known our previous outcomes, he would have done exactly the same as our Devon rounds. However he would suggest a milder treatment so that the eggs would hopefully be better quality. He also recommended IMSI, which we had never heard of. It’s basically using a super magnified microscope that can see every individual sperm in pure detail, selecting only the top quality ones. After a short chat, I knew I wanted to give it one more go, I knew my body was born to be a mum. I knew I needed to feel that baby wriggle!

It was booked! IMSI was our choice, so we were booked in with our clinic and their fellow clinic where they have the microscope (Liverpool women’s hospital). In October I was put on menopur and fyramadel injections after my next period, this time the medication was so mild I barely felt any side effects and it was less than a fortnight of medication. “I've got this” I kept telling myself.

Before they could go ahead with the egg removal surgery, as normal they had to check with an internal scan to see how the follicles were growing, I had 5! ”5!” I was completely gutted, but I had my husband keep telling me, “it’s better quality Zo, not quantity”. After the nurse had a discussion with the doctor, they still decided to go ahead with the egg removal booked in for a couple of days later. That night I took my trigger injection and it was no longer in my hands. The worry continued though, the day we were due to go to Liverpool is when the city went into lockdown again. It was a scary time, but They were incredible. I felt so safe. Unlike in Devon, I was put to sleep and had no discomfort whilst they were piercing through my womb and sucking out my eggs. I was told once I was coming round that they managed to get all 5. A cup of tea and biscuits later, my husband helped me get dressed and we were back in the car travelling home. Then it was the dreaded wait to find out our outcome this time. The next day the embryologist informed us 3 eggs were of the quality they could use, out of the 3 eggs inserted with the best possible sperm, 2 made embryos. 1 was of a really good quality and the other one was chasing behind it. It was our choice, we could have a 3 or 5 day transfer. We could put in 1 or both. We asked the embryologists opinion, which they can’t officially do, but we all came to an agreement, we decided to put in the best quality one on day 3, as it’s natural habitat could be better for it and hope the other embryo could make it to a blastocyst and could be frozen for future use. We were booked in and our embryo was inserted the next day. A couple of days later I still hadn’t heard from the hospital, I rang and sadly was told the other embryo had made it to a blastocyst but sadly was not the quality to be used. They were now leaving it to perish. All was riding now on this little one inside of me! Our last chance!!

The 2 weeks wait felt like forever. I had a little bleed 2 nights before my test was due. As soon as I noticed, yep, I cried, my previous rounds I had always bled early. But this time it was different, it stopped. It's strange, A woman really does know her own body and something was different. Early the next morning I was doing my usual staring at the ceiling and woke my husband to ask him if I could take a test a day early, I flung the test in his hands when it instantly came up with a negative line...but watched as he flustered with the instructions a minute later...”what are you doing” I harshly said...he was still flustering around making a crumpling noise with the paper instructions, he then asked me and showed me “well what does this mean” looking at me completely puzzled... my reply “it means I’m pregnant!!!!”

We stood there in disbelief! The day was a bit of a blur, I just remember a day that we both had smug smiles on our faces.Those who knew that we were going through it again knew that our test was due tomorrow, for just a day, it was our little secret. Our happy time was finally here. The next morning was the official test day, we both rushed to the toilet and took the test again. PREGNANT! It’s finally happened, we have our miracle, I’m pregnant, luck is finally on our side.Now it’s time for our happily ever after.

Well, wasn’t that a stupid thought! Due to Covid spreading again, restrictions were put back into place. I lost my job and a couple of weeks later my husband lost his. “I will not lose this baby“ I kept telling myself, we will get by as long as we have this to get us through.

The weeks passed, the nausea started and I was back in the clinic making sure there was a baby in there. At 7 weeks and 1 day pregnant, there was our little peanut. It was there on the screen, my husband was kissing me and yet I couldn’t take my eyes off of the screen.

We booked in a private scan at 10 1/2 weeks knowing we wanted to tell friends and family at Christmas to cheer up a pretty crappy year! Now the baby was waving at us and lying down using me as a trampoline. All over Christmas, we messaged, video called or sent cards informing our nearest and dearest. The day flew by and if we possibly felt any happier I’m sure we could have flown high in the sky.

New years eve was booked as my dating scan at the hospital for 2.15pm. My husband wasn’t allowed in as he’s only allowed there for the 20 week scan. At 3.30pm I still hadn’t gone in and now was bursting for a wee. I squeezed out a little knowing they needed a full bladder. I got called in just before 3.45pm and she got to it. She was quiet but I didn’t care, I was in my own little world smiling at what an awkward position my baby had got comfy in waving at me like normal. So matter of fact the sonographer said some words I didn’t understand and I was told to go back in the waiting room to speak to someone. I sat in the waiting room on my own not knowing what to tell my husband. I started to shake and could feel my eyes glazing. My name was called and an outer body experience came over me. I knew I was walking but felt like I had no control of my legs. As soon as she looked at me as we sat down I burst out crying. My husband was called in from the car, as I couldn't take anything in. This was not the celebration I thought we we’re going to have to see in 2021. This isn't how this year was supposed to end!

Really long story to short(ish) our baby has a lot of fluid on its neck to chest and cysts in its neck. There is a lot of concern and we need to be prepared that there is a chromosome problem. They took my blood and told me that there were no specialists or doctors around to take a look or speak to me. As the next day was a bank holiday and then it was the weekend, no one could take a look and the blood tests couldn’t be sent off until Monday. Every hour over that long weekend felt like a day.

On Monday when we still hadn’t heard anything by 11.30am, my husband phoned. After a change from the initial appointment they were trying to give us on Thursday (which would have been a week of despair) they gave us an appointment for the following day.

We tried to stay positive, my husband was allowed with me this time. Holding each other’s hands so tightly we watched our beautiful baby wriggling around. The specialist consultant sonographer was looking around and very very quiet. After maybe 5 minutes, she put the scanner down and said she would like a second opinion because she wasn’t convinced that she could see anything wrong. I told her I loved her and we were taken to a private room to wait for another consultant. My husband and I were trying to hide our smiles and were trying to keep calm. 15 minutes later we were called back in. This time this sonographer was slowing the pictures down and pointing at her screen and whispering. After another 5 minutes I started to shake again and said “ I guess there is something “ , “ yes, cystic hygromas, I’m sorry” they said. I felt my world crumbling. At 13 and half weeks pregnant, I already have a bond with my baby. I feel like I’ve let it down. They reassured me that there is nothing I’ve done, it’s a chromosome problem. I still feel responsible, I want this baby so badly. MY little miracle.

The baby is still too small to check it’s heart chambers, but it’s likely to suffer heart defects. They talked us through chromosome abnormalities, genetic syndromes, the high risk chance of a miscarriage and our options of what tests we need. We now face endless diagnostic testing as long as the baby doesn’t die before then. With the baby having cystic hygromas, the chance of survival is less than 10%. Only after 26 weeks does it have a fighting chance. The prognosis remains guarded.

After 10 years of trying, succeeding and then dreaming of our future, we did not expect to have to discuss termination. Please say this is just a bad dream. This could not be happening!