Prolog – My story
Trying to conceive Journal entry #1. Oct 22nd 2008
"I'm at work with the sunset reflected through the window, a handbag full of ovulation predictors and big love for my man."
It's Oct 22nd. I've just sent this email (above) to my partner Dave. Sending it made me realise that it's time. Time to start my trying to conceive journal.
October makes the 13th month of my trying to conceive journey. A journey that has been quite successful if you take 'trying to conceive' literally. As we have conceived four times in twelve months. Yay! So, we can get pregnant. At 35 that is something to celebrate.
I expected to find it difficult to be 'expecting'. What I did not anticipate were the repeated early miscarriages.
I've titled my journal 'about time' - because time is what it is about – the two week wait (X12 - which means I have been crazy for 168 days of this past year), being 35.58 years of age, the excitement of counting pregnancy weeks (5, 6, 7 the hoped for but elusive 8 ) the ached for 9 months and ... well of course I have called it about time - because its about bloody time!!!! I wanna be pregnant now!!
I've never been patient. This trying to conceive is teaching me a new humility, a new rhythm. Preparing me for motherhood? I am fighting the passage of time every step of the way, armed with a digital basal body temperature thermometer, ovulation predictor kits, and a pile of home pregnancy tests.
May the journey continue, and may it be brief! Big fat postive and sticky bean here we come!
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I remember writing these words, trying to be so brave and chipper and positive, while inside I felt so sad. I had, just days before, had the loss of my fourth pregnancy confirmed by yet another devastating scan – where the only heartbeat I could hear was my own; first racing and then breaking .
Let’s go back a bit further. When I was 33, I woke up one day and everything had changed. I have always wanted children. It was one of those things that I planned to do ‘one day’ and of course I had assumed that would all go swimmingly once I was happily settled down with the right man and … you know – ready. But suddenly, one day, in the springtime just after my 33rd birthday, I woke up and BAMN! my head was full of just one thought B-A-B-Y! From morning until nighttime, thoughts of lovely squishy giggling babies filled my mind. I really believe this was about biology, that my body was telling me – the clock is ticking, time to get serious my dear, it’s now or never. I became preoccupied. The only thing I wanted to talk about was – babies - much to the horror of my then boyfriend, a younger man with entirely different thoughts on his mind. After a few more months of trying to make that relationship work, we both realised that I could not wait for him to be ready, and he could not pretend to want something so important.
And so, I became THAT woman. A woman alone at 33 with a brain full of BABY! but an empty womb. This does not make for sparkling cocktail party conversation. I pulled myself together. I moved to Liverpool, got a great apartment, new shoes, new lingerie and set about to find a man worthy to be the father of my children. Find him I did, and I had a good time doing it too.
I went online. Ladies, let’s face it, I was 33, alone in a new city. Baby-worthy prospects do not just pop round and ring the doorbell with a dozen roses just because you decide you are back on the market. In my online profile I said that I was looking for fun and friends to explore a new city with. But that I was looking for partnership too, and that for the right guy, I had a lot to give.
Being online meant that I could set certain minimum criteria, and only go out with men who met the standard. I have a history of going out with the wrong guy. With my new system I figured if I went out with someone and feelings developed into something more – that would be wonderful! I decided that my dream man, at a minimum, had to want children, to be employed, to like to travel and be a person of faith or spirituality.
At the time I was working as a university lecturer, and writing up my PhD. I had the summer off of teaching and was concentrating on my research. I decided for the months of June and July to work half time writing papers, and spend the other half of my time dating – fun!! I met some great guys but on my second date with Dave, the man who is now my husband, I just knew I’d found someone really special. I called off the search, and decided to stay with Dave and see where our life together would take us. Little did I know then the twists and turns we would take in our journey to becoming a family.
Thankfully the internet had turned up a gem and I found a man who was not only up for being a parent with me, but also ready to deal with 24 months of trying to conceive. Not for the faint of heart. As we were to learn.
Hmmmmmmmmm. This is turning out to be quite a personal story. But then, it’s between friends. Any woman trying to conceive is a friend- no – a sister to me. Through this experience I have learnt so much about what it is to be a woman and I have so much respect for mummies everywhere. So, get comfy – make a cuppa - there’s more.
From early days in our relationship Dave and I decided to use the natural family planning method of birth control. I guess we were not as careful with our dates as we could have been because – surprise!! Just three months into using this method I woke up feeding nauseous one day and I just KNEW. (I guess this is why they warned us off the natural family planning birth control method in sex education class at school !
I’ll never forget seeing that beautiful word – pregnant – come up on the digital pregnancy test. We had not been trying, we were preventing, but this did not lessen my happiness. It was Dave’s 34th birthday. My whole body was shaking with joy as I ran and hopped in a taxi cab straight to Dave’s work to tell him. On the way I told the taxi driver! I wanted to sky write it! I found Dave, jumped up into his arms and told him “We’re going to have a baby!” I produced the evidence from my pocket – the perfect test with the perfect word clearly and boldly stating the new facts of life. I was utterly convinced that in just 8.5 short months I would be holding the baby of my dreams in my arms. I’d never been happier. In the past I had been afraid that it would take months or even years to become pregnant, and then, it had happened so easily, so quickly. We were blessed.
I set about to revelling in my new found joy. I told EVERYONE. I began to pat and rub my belly lovingly. I took ‘before’ bump pictures. I started pram shopping. I bought a pregnancy book and read up on what to expect. Dave and I started shopping for a new house. All of this during pregnancy week four. I know – you are probably laughing at me. When I look back now, I realize how naïve I was. I knew that miscarriage happened frequently, I’d even read that about a quarter of pregnancies end in miscarriage. A friend tried to warn me, telling me to maybe hold off telling people just a few more weeks. But somehow I believed that miscarriage would not happen to me. I’d always been healthy; active, fit, no smoking or drinking, healthy eating – all of that, and so much love for my little embryo – of course we would make it!
When I started spotting pink blood during my fifth week of pregnancy, I was in scared. I went straight to the doctors. I was shocked to learn that if I was going to miscarry, there was nothing that they could do about it. ‘But my precious baby! You have to help me’, I thought. The doctor told me that the neck of my womb was closed (that was good, if it were open, then miscarriage was inevitable). He told me that this was a threatened miscarriage, and that I needed to try to stay positive. Well positive was exactly what I was trying to stay. Positively pregnant. I gave him a shaky smile and tried to feel brave.
The doctor began a series of beta HCG tests on my blood. The hormone hCG (human chorionic gonadotropin) should double every 48 hours in early pregnancy. My levels were low, but they assured me it was the doubling that was important. Forty-eight hours later (after me spending many many hours spent on the internet, getting an education in all that can go wrong in a pregnancy) my levels had more than tripled. My bleeding continued on and off, but I was feeling everything my pregnancy book told me I should be feeling: nauseous, needing to wee frequently and very tired. My mum told me that she had also experienced some bleeding in her pregnancy with me and that everything had turned out fine. I was so hopeful.
It was not to be. By pregnancy week seven it was all over. My levels of hCG had dropped right back down and the nurse told me she was so sorry. That was it. There was nothing they could do. A few days later, as I lay in bed with Dave, pain and cramps started coming over me in waves. We lost our first little baby bean. Dave held my hand and I found that when I just relaxed and breathed, the pain went away. We cuddled and cried a little, and then it was over.
Oh how I grieved! I blamed myself and went over and over everything in my mind looking for a cause. It must be from having sex during pregnancy I thought. My mother suggested that it might be from wearing high heels. I knew this was not possible, but I had to google it, just to be sure. Just an hour before I started spotting, I had been walking in the park and been stung by a bee. I wondered if this set off some kind of physiological reaction in my body causing my womb to reject my little one. I wanted any reason, anything other than just another unexplained loss. I wanted something I could control, something to do differently next time.
Dave and I spent lots of time talking. The loss had been a real test of our relationship. Although I think that Dave was surprised by the depth of my grief for the loss of a little one we only called our own for a few weeks, he too had become very excited about the idea of becoming a parent. We both agreed – next cycle we would start trying for real!
There was some good news, after all. I could become pregnant. That was wonderful as I knew that so many couples spent years trying and never even got a positive pregnancy test. We were confident that next pregnancy everything would go wonderfully well. Many people came forward to share their story and it seemed that every woman I knew, and her mother/aunt/sister-in-law/cousin/best friend and hairdresser had experienced a miscarriage. Hmmmmm that was not something they told us in sex ed. I’d spent much of my life trying not to get pregnant. I never realized how difficult all of this was going to be.
Those next few months were, for the most part, a jolly good time. We had lots and lots of sex and knowing that we were making love to make a baby was a wonderful aphrodisiac. By trying, we just meant that we stopped using birth control. We smugly giggled at other couples we’d heard of, taking daily temperatures and testing the quality of cervical mucus! No thank you! Somehow, a year slipped by, bringing with it two more early miscarriages. We weren’t laughing anymore. After our third loss we were referred to a consultant for testing. I remember being so hopeful that finally we were going to get some answers. Instead, after waiting eight nail biting weeks for results, we were told that nothing was wrong. All our tests had come back normal. The doctor suggested we just go and “have a bash” and that we still had an excellent chance of carrying a baby to term. I left the hospital in tears. I knew this was supposed to be good news, so why did I feel so devastated? I wanted someone to help me. Someone to tell me what I needed to do, and I would do it, and all would be well. I was aching to be pregnant, aching for a baby to call my own.
I had become a crazy woman for two of every four weeks. On alert for every sign and symptom I was convinced I was pregnant every month. I was obsessed with pregnancy tests – taking several each month, each time convinced this would be my lucky stick. I kept my test taking behaviour a bit secret, as I knew that friends not trying for a baby just would not understand. I barely understood it myself. I know I was a bit mad but I did not care. My quest for two pink lines won out.
And so, as any smart girl does when the going gets tough, I went shopping. I bought myself a basal body temperature thermometer, with two decimal place accuracy – check! I went out a bought an ovulation predictor kit – fun! More sticks to wee on! I found a website for mums, mums to be and wanting to be mummies. I found a group of cycle buddies and we cheered each other on through the ovulation, two week wait and testing.
I signed up with a website to track my cycle. Finally – we would unravel the mystery of my cycles. Well it worked! Yipee! The very first month of charting my cycle we saw a definite thermal shift indicating that I had ovulated, confirmed by my trusty ovulation predictor kit. I dutifully ticked off the days of the month we had sex and the website gave us an excellent chance of conception. They were right! Yay! A triumph of science. I announced my pregnancy with joy to my nearest and dearest, both in real life and online.
Surely this was the bean that would stick. Coincidentally, my cycle had started on the same day as my very first pregnancy. I had a new due date, a year to the day later than the baby that should have been our first. We were overjoyed. The lines on my tests were faint, but as the package insert assured me, a line is a line! I was pregnant.
A year had brought new technology to the pregnancy test market. New tests allowed me to monitor the buildup of hCG in my urine. These new tests were able to estimate how many weeks pregnant you were ‘pregnant 1-2’; ‘pregnant 2-3’ and pregnant 3+. I dutifully waited until I was certain that my hCG should have doubled enough to give me a ‘pregnant 2-3’. It never did. A few tearful phone calls to the pregnancy test helpline, and I was convinced it was over. A few days later, and the bleeding started. That brought us to October 22nd, and my 13th cycle of trying to conceive, and my journal entry #1 .
The next few months were so hard. I did my very best to be cheery, and most of the time I was, but I actually found myself dreading the company of pregnant women. If one more friend gleefully announced their pregnancy on facebook – I would scream. I saw a beautiful woman with a lovely big round bump on campus one day, and I wanted to go over and hit her over the head with my handbag. For the very first time in my life, I didn’t even want Christmas to come, because it would just be another Christmas without a baby for me. I found solace in my online journal and spent my spare time learning more about fertility.
Something else was happening too. As I left the hospital on the day the scan confirmed my fourth miscarriage, a nurse stopped me in the hall and asked if I was aware there was a miscarriage study going on in that hospital. She thought I might be a candidate. It seemed that women with elevated levels of NK (natural killer) cells in the womb had increased chances of miscarriage. We had to take a month off of trying, and a wonderful doctor named Dr. Quenby did a uterine biopsy and confirmed that I had elevated levels of NK cells. I was enrolled as a patient in her research study. A double blind, placebo controlled, randomized control trial of the effect of daily steroid doses on preventing first trimester miscarriage in pregnant women. Double blinded meant that neither the doctor nor I would know if I was on the steroid or just a pretend tablet.
Joy oh joy – we got pregnant in January! And at week seven, we finally saw what we had waited so long to see. A little baby heartbeat on the scan screen! We were over the moon. Dave videoed the little heart beating away on a baby bean about the size of a grain of rice. We named our baby bean ‘lil apple’. The doctor assured us that once we saw a heartbeat the chances of miscarriage were less than 5%. I still had my fears and doubts, but I put them aside and hoped and prayed for the best with my family, friends and online bump buddies. I called up my dad and told him – you are going to be a grandpa! This time our baby is going to stick.
Sadly, we lost him.
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Trying to conceive Journal entry #1070, March 6th 2009
It was not good news. We had an external and two internal scans that confirmed that the baby stopped growing about a week ago. There was no heartbeat. I am certain of this diagnosis. I have decided to opt for the tablets which will bring on the bleeding and will take the first one tomorrow. I will then go into the hospital next week when I will be given the rest of the tablets and stay on the ward for a day. They want to try to save the foetus in a bottle so that they can do extensive genetic analysis to try to determine if there is something genetically wrong with lil apple. If so - that is actually somewhat comforting to me, as I hate the notion of my body simply killing my little ones.
The genetic analysis will take several months. So - we have some waiting before more answers come.
We cannot find out if we were on the steroids this time, but we can be guaranteed them next time.
Dave is so sad. He really believed with his whole heart that things would be ok this time. I'm so sorry to see him looking broken. He is being gentle and kind and wanted to be sure to let me know that he is so glad we found each other and that he does not blame my body for all of this. He is such a good partner and friend.
I'm at work believe it or not - as I have been at the conference all week and my desk is piled high. Only doing the essentials today - and then will clear off. Heading home for a snuggle on the sofa with a DVD tonight.
And me....... oh walking back through three waiting rooms of pregnant women after my scan just broke my heart. I was trying to keep the tears from my eyes, but I knew that any one of them in the room would probably love to hug and comfort me - having no doubt been through fears themselves in the early weeks.
Now we are left to wait for a week ahead that promises to be grim indeed. And then to make plans to start all over again..... when we are ready.
Today I even shudder at the flowering crocuses because I was loving spring so much thinking that I too was blooming inside. But yet I still hope. Still believe. And I know, that in some way and soon my babies will come.
With love and much much much baby dust to all.
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Getting over the loss was hard. We the genetic analysis came back and told us that our baby was a boy. We named him Ewan. They also told us that he had a genetic disorder that meant there was no chance he could have survived. After another batch of tests for Dave and I they confirmed that this generic abnormality was just bad luck, and that there was nothing wrong with either of our DNA. We picked ourselves up - and kept going.
Thankfully I had a wonderful partner Dave and best friend Nicole to lean on. Nicole gave me a little stone fertility statue and a meditation CD to encourage conception. I took up belly dancing to ‘connect with my inner goddess’. Dave and I were closer than ever – and having quite a few intrepid adventures in the bedroom. I decided that we would try something new every month – to keep trying to conceive interesting and new. For example, I read somewhere that taking cough syrup withthe active ingredient guaifenesin acts as an expectorant and increases the quantity and quality of cervical mucus. I’ll try anything once – as evidenced in my journal:
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Trying to conceive Journal entry #1586 April 17th 2009
Sooooo - we are into the ovulation phase : )I totally forgot to take the cough medicine yesterday - and I think that made my cervical mucus totally dry up!! Last night, we were in bed, getting ready for the baby dancing. I was willing - but not ready!! Nothing - dry as the Sahara.
Dave said - we've got some lube... ? I reminded him that lube is not sperm friendly. Saliva also against the rules : ( Tried a toy - nothing. In a moment of shining brilliance - I hopped out of bed and into the kitchen. Straight to the refrigerator.
I grabbed an egg. Separated the white neatly into a glass. Great. Trouble is – it’s freezing COLD!! In another flash of brilliance I popped it into the microwave for 5 sec. Ummmm - by the time I opened the mic door, it was 7 sec - and a tiny bit of the white had started to cook!! Oh no!! I just pulled the (tiny) cooked bit out with my fingers, and headed back the bedroom.
We shared the egg as lube - just using fingers and hands - which was fun! It felt great but at one point - thinking about the egginess of it all - we both started to laugh and giggle. Now it was OH's turn to lose his 'ahem' readiness.
Thankfully that was sorted quickly enough with a little attention - good - because that egg was starting to cool down!!
And so - lovely cuddly WET sex ensued. I really did love the egg white as lube - and would certainly recommend it for the texture- now here's fingers crossed that I end up with a big fat positive and not a horrible infection!
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Looking back on that journal entry now I hear all the love and hope coming through loud and clear. Through all the losses, we never gave up. I like my experience of trying to conceive to playing a fruit machine. You can’t win if you don’t play. Every month is another chance. Every month could be your month. All it takes is one lucky egg, and one lucky sperm. We just had to keep going.
And keep going we did. As I type to you now, my partner, now husband Dave is asleep in our bedroom. Next to the bed is the crib where our tiny, precious three months three weeks and one day old baby daughter is sleeping. She has filled our home and hearts with joy and I’m honoured and blessed to be her mummy. We finally got our sticky big fat positive nearly one year ago. I took the steroids. I still don’t know for sure if that is what made this pregnancy different from all the others, but I do know we now have a perfect little baby.
She is just waking for a night feed, so I’m going to go in and breastfeed her. Before I go, I will sprinkle a little baby dust for you all, and share her birth story. I truly wish the same joy for each of you. I hope this book can help to make it happen.
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Pregnancy journal post #3475, May 17th 2010
Fearne Mei!!!!!!!!!
The (poop) scoop!
Soooooooooooooooooo we have a confession to make. Fearne arrived on her due date, just like to little super miracle baby she is. She did have a wee nudge tho. ; )
As you remember, Nicole, my beautiful best friend and second birth partner came down last week to be with us for Fearne Mei’s arrival. When she arrived she told me, with some tears, that her much beloved 94 year old grandfather had a major stroke the night before. She, in her infinite loveliness had still come down to be with us, but we all agreed that she would go home for the funeral. As the week progressed it became obvious that sadly, a funeral was imminent. It became almost a race between birth and death.
On the eve of Fearne Mei’s due date, our birthing team (Dave Nicole and I) got together to plan. For the past 10 days or our natural induction has been progressing beautifully with acupressure, long walks, African dancing. But- we decided that for the due date, we would give it everything we’ve got. Enter- the (somewhat) controversial castor oil natural induction.
I know this method gets some bad press, but I read several scientific papers on the subject, decided there were not any serious risks, and it was worth a ‘shot’. I put my faith in my body to handle the castor oil, and in wee baby Pippin to come if out only if she was ready.
So – Thursday evening meal, we sat round the table, Dave and Nicole ate steak and salad, and I had 60 ml castor oil and a chaser of orange juice.
I can say- I drank it calmly, and it just tasted like vegetable oil. I went to bed about 10:30pm, expecting a night of frequent trips to the loo – and not much else to be honest!!
The game is on!
At midnight, I woke up with my first bout of diarrhoea. Went back to sleep. Another hour later I woke up again, and with another trip to the loo- I was completely cleared out. It was not so bad at all. I got tucked up in bed, next to Dave. And felt another cramp. Hmmmmmmmmm . Maybe I needed to go again? No. This was a ‘frount of the house’ cramp! I went to lay on the sofa, to suss it out.
Cramps were stronger than any period cramp I’ve had, and coming regularly – about every 6 minutes! I tried going to the loo again – nothing. Tried walking around, still coming, tried a few yoga poses…. Still coming!!
I woke up Dave – ‘The game is on!’ said I.
Nicole and Dave finished packing my hospital bag, while I got dressed. Called the doctor – who said – come in! We called a taxi, and sped off through the night – arriving at the hospital at about 4:45am Friday.
We were moved into the beautiful labour room, were we met the lovely nursing staff. I was assessed at 100% effaced, 0 station, and 4 cm dilated. I stood up to go to the loo- and my waters broke with a slow (and bloody) leak on the floor – I was staying in! We told them natural childbirth – and they supported us 100% - I had no drugs in the delivery room, and no pain meds since. Just as I dreampt it would be.
A few hours later, my doctor’s office let us know, that he would be in clinic until 5pm, and so – until then I’d be under the care of another doctor. Dr. Newman came in and assessed me – I liked him immediately. Confident and positive he assessed me as being between 6-7 cm - and said he could feel the baby’s hair! He said – we are having a baby today! In the next few hours!! I was so happy I could have cried- or was that just the labour pains!! ; ) At that point, around 7 cms, the contractions were the worst I had. I stayed standing or squatting though, taking a break to lie down between pains once in a while. I felt it was important to use gravity to move the baby down – to make each contraction count.
I kept breathing and moving and - we kept progressing. We also had recordings that Dave had made from everyone in my family. Wishing me the best and letting me know how much they loved me and were excited to meet our little one.
The pains were – well – painful! I can’t say that I had a ‘pain free birth’ - not at all – but it was never anywhere close to unbearable- and as I told Fearne Mei right after she was born- it was the best day of my life.
My birthing partners were AMAZING!! Dave caressed my back, and gave me kisses. We listened to the music mix that we had prepared for the birth- and Nicole and I sang along between contractions. there were even a few points were we had a labour room dance party going on. The night was gone and the sun came up and the day was here- the time flew by.
At about 9am I went into the shower for 30 minutes – heaven!! At 10 am the doctor assessed me at 8 cm and said – he’d be back at 11am to check progress – and if we were ready – we could start to PUSH!! Wow!! The lip of my cervix was hanging onto the top of Pippin’s head. And I was feeling quite a lot of rectal pressure. I was told to be careful to resist pushing- so that the cervix didn’t swell! It was hard to to, because the pushing was just involuntary – but I managed to control it pretty well with my breathing. When the doctor came back- assessed me and said I was ready to go. He pushed the lip of the cervix back manually – no problem He left me with the nurse – to start PUSHING!!
Well – like everyone says – it felt GREAT to push. I had my squat bar – I was ready to go!! Only thing was- my contractions- all the way through my labour, right from the start to the finish, were around 5 minutes apart. Slightly anti climatic! It gave me lots of time to rest – which was great, but I had energy to do WAY more pushing, and we were only pushing with contractions. This meant that my pushing phase was about 2 hours long …. But the actual number of pushes was not so many at all. I had read in the natural labour books about ‘breathing the baby down’ rather than pushing… that may work - I don’t know, but it was not my experience. I pushed – and pushed hard throughout. (btw – I was a little afraid that after all that castor oil I’d be pooping all over the delivery room! But not at all – not once, even with all that pushing ‘into my bum’ as they tell you to do.) I was never tired during pushing, and had strength and energy for more. I tried pushing in the standing position, the kneeling position, the squatting position – and my nurse was a superstar, crawling around on the floor - trying to get underneath me to assess my progress.
I LOVE information- and after every 30 mins or so – the nurse got me back onto the bed to have a few contractions where she could get a better view. Wouldn’t you know it – I progressed better on my back and side than standing! I went into the labour determined that I was not going to give birth on my back – and for 11.5 hours of labour I did not- but the last 30 mins – that is exactly where I was. For some reason – it just worked best for Pippin and me? One great thing was that the hospital had an AWESOME huge mirror that Nicole and Dave put up so I could see the birth. OMG I loved it. Dave and Nicole were cheering and Dave was overwhelmed and blown away by watching her head moving down. When she was crowning- Dave and I both touched her head! I knew she was SOOOOOOOOOO close, and I was determined to have and hold her. The doc was great – massaging my perineum with mineral oil and telling me carefully exactly when to push to minimise tearing. When the moment was right- I pushed with everything I had, and watched in joy as her little head popped out!
Blissed out
After her head, her body just spilled out no bother, and they put her straight onto my chest. Tears of joy tears of joy tears of joy. She latched straight away, and I watched her tiny body, still covered in vernix wriggling on me. It is by far the most amazing thing I’ve seen – or will ever see I reckon. I was elated – and still am. After she had her feed, had a bath, got weighed and measured:
Born: 1:38pm
Weight: 6 lbs 5oz
Length: 18.5 inches
We called Dave’s folks so they could see her on skype! Right there in the delivery room. Then we kicked everyone out, and the three of us – Dave pippin and I clung together. Dave and I cried and cried and I poured out my heart to him – telling him everything he means to me and how wonderful it has been to share this TTC and pregnancy journey with him. We named her then:
Fearne Mei Holden
Since then – we grow a little more in love, with her, and with each other each minute. Being pregnant was the best thing that ever happened to me – until her birth- and now - I can’t wait for what comes next.
I don’t know what journey you’ve already been on to get to this point. Maybe you are still waiting to try, or you’ve just begun to try to conceive or maybe you’ve been trying for years. Wherever you are at, I am so glad we can journey together for a while. I wish you all as brief and happy and positive a reproductive journey as possible. I wrote this book because it is just the kind of book I searched for while I was trying to conceive. I hope I can save you some time and tears.
Baby dust to you. Let’s get started!
 
and then 10 chapters will follow on subjects related to TTC. Each chapter will start with a creative story, and then technical information 'how to' will follow - for example: a chapter on testing. All about HPTs, how to chose a test, when to test, how to interpret your result, how to cope with 
s..... and how to celebrate 
s!! 
LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE it and defo want a copy xxxx
