What happens when you find out you’re prego with twins


Only kidding.  Tongue in cheek.  All this grey is a result of being pregnant though.  And also disorganised before pregnancy.

I really should have considered that at embryo transfer, I was due a dye, and dyed it before I was going to become all paranoid about chemicals.

I’ve not read anything that directly tells me not to dye my hair, but I have read things that suggest I should avoid it unless necessary (?), and if i do do it, I shouldn’t let the dye be in contact with my scalp for too long.  These things suggest to me that dying my hair is not good.  I am not going to do anything that is not good for my babies, while they are still at this super delicate stage.  You can be sure though, that after 12 weeks (ok, maybe 13, or 14 … wwwaaaahhhhh) my hair will be returned to it’s youthful shiney brunette self.  In the mean time, I feel like a bag lady.

Now having looked at this photo, I’m wondering about googling ‘Botox when pregnant’.

All the tears – 7 weeks pregnant

I cannot tell you how much I have cried since Friday morning.  For two reasons:

  1. I am pregnant.  With twins.
  2. I am pregnant.  With twins.

those may seem one and the same, but they aren’t, let me assure you.

Number one is about the utter utter shock of learning I am going to have two babies.  Two children.  I have two babies.  I am a mother of two.  I have two hearts that aren’t my own, beating away in my belly.  I mean, we had two embryos transferred, and I have said all along since I fell pregnant that I thought there were two in there.  But there’s ‘knowing’ and then there’s knowing.  Nothing prepared me for knowing for realsies.  The enormity of it.  How big I’m going to get.  How they are getting out.  How will we afford two sets of university fees at once?

Also number one, and as an extension to my own shock, I am also having to witness everyone elses shock as we yell “SURPRISE!!!” with our news.  That’s making me cry every time, too.

Number two is about the CRAZY coursing through my veins because of these two lovely little nubbins.  Hormones have hit and I am no longer in control.  Anything that previously might have made me feel perhaps a bit happy or a bit sad is now inducing shoulder shaking snotty sobs.  Example:  I was walking to work yesterday and imagining what my wifes and my first date after the babies might look like, when we feel comfortable leaving them with Grandma for an evening.  I was sitting at a table in a nice restaurant knocking back margaritas one moment and the next moment, leaving the table with a clatter and demanding a taxi with mascara/tear streaked face as I wail about needing to see my babies.  This fictional scenario produced by my own imagination caused actual sobbing on the way to work.

Guys.  Listen.  I’m having twins.  That’s two babies.  At once.  I want to both press pause to allow my brain to catch up and to allow me time to research ALL OF THE THINGS IN THE WORLD (I feel like I need to do a few years of thesis style research), and to press fast forward so that I can be someone who actually has two babies and knows what to do with them.

You should know:  I am over the moon.  I am so excited.  And I am also confident that we are going to totally smash being twin Mums, because my wife and I are an awesome team.  But you can feel all overwhelmed at the same time as that.

This is not complaining; what 6 weeks pregnant was like

Not a lot has gone on this last week, except that I slipped from 6 weeks something days pregnant in to seven weeks pregnant (and if I want to wish my life away and make myself appear to be ‘more’ pregnant, I could tell you that I am now in my eighth week of pregnancy! Woo!)

Scan tomorrow.  I am half crapping myself, because of course there is always a dark and horrible thought that wonders what will happen if there is no heart beat.  But then, there better bloody well had be a heart beat, given how shitty I’m feeling!

Urgh.  I resolve not to make this whole post a whinge fest.  Perhaps just this paragraph then*.  I am tired, so tired I feel like crying.  Every muscle in my body is begging me to get back in bed.  The walk to the bus stop after work is like wading through treacle.  And I feel so sick.  Any sudden movement and I can feel the colour drain from my face, probably in to my stomach where it acts all toxic and bad.  I haven’t been sick.  I have contemplated sticking my fingers down my throat on occasion to see if puking will ease the feeling, but I don’t think it would.  It’s just constant “I might be sick” but I never am.

Though, there are good days and bad days.  Yesterday wasn’t terrible.  Today is.

This might sound like I’m complaining.  I’m really not (ha ha!!)  I would stay this way for the rest of my life if I had to.  Honestly, I wouldn’t give any of this up for anything.  And I’d gladly take more.  So much more.

I am an emotional mess.  Quite literally.  I was just thinking about Mothers day plans next weekend (we have plans with My mum and Bec’s Mum/Gran/Auntie/Sister too) and then realisation dawned on me … mothers day.  Mothers day.  And then I started crying.  At my desk, fat unstoppable tears plopping all over my paperwork.  There is literally nothing I can do.  I am also stuck on a bit in the book I’m reading at the moment, I can’t get past the page I’m on because I keep ugly crying and I do all my reading on the bus.  Bec has read the book before so I might just have to ask her if the dog dies and then skip ahead to a safe bit so I can continue on.

We talked about breaking the news before we found out we were pregnant, just to make sure we were on the same page.  We agreed immediate family (parents and siblings) right away, plus one friend each (my best mate rang me within five minutes of his wife’s BFP – I had to tell him!)  Then after the seven week scan (er, now 20 hours away!!) we’d tell close friends.  Then after 12 weeks we go public.  What an absolute load of rubbish that is! My wife and I have big fat mouths.  We’re sharers.  We love the people we love and we want to share our lives with them.   So, apart from one or two members of Bec’s family, we’ve no-one to tell now after the scan tomorrow!  I’ve even told one of my colleagues because I need to retrieve something next week from archive, which involves lots of box hauling, so I couldn’t ask for help without explaining why.

My wife is a beautiful beautiful hero.  She is doing such an amazing job of looking after me.  She just makes me feel all safe and warm and like she can hold back the world outside.  And now I’m crying again. I can’t wait to see her be a Mum.  She’s going to be amazing.

* fail.

Being 5 weeks pregnant – the Valentines edition

*You should read this blog accompanied by Jess Glynne’s ‘Real love’*

So I’m 5 weeks 6 days, which means that tomorrow i’ll have made it to 6 weeks!  This feels huge!

This week has seen me sleeping and turning green.  Literally.  My wife helpfully told me last night that she can tell when I’m not feeling well, because my face turns a kind of grey/greenish colour.

Last Friday, I woke up to spotting.  ARGH, are you freaking kidding me!?  The feeling was horrible as I sat on the loo at 6am and noticed, my stomach and my heart kind of just turned gloomy and blue and sank, ready for despair.  I got back in to bed and announced I wasn’t moving for the rest of the day. Turned out it was fine.  I actually read something that was really helpful about bleeding in early pregnancy.  I mean I’ve heard over and over again about how people bleed and go on to have a healthy pregnancy, but it just didn’t compute with me.  Bleeding was something to be worried about.  Until a kind lady on a form decided to explain it.  I’m going to copy it here in case it’s useful to anyone else:

When the blastocyst is embedding itself, it does so by sprouting little things like roots – they are called the  chorionic villi.   These roots, (like the roots on a potato) dig their way through the endometrium  (your lining) and into the wall of your uterus, where they locate the blood  vessels and force their way into them, like when ivy roots push themselves into  weak spots in a brick wall.  Once they have done this, oxygen and  nutrients from the mother’s blood are taken to the blastocyst to nourish  it.

What can happen, is that some blood can leak out of your blood vessels and form  a clot or blood blister type thing near where the blastocyst/embryo has  implanted.  The ‘blister’ can stay there for some time undisturbed, but  with the embryo growing and embedding further, it may be ‘burst’ or part of it  get dislodged, and the blood travels out of the uterus and down through the  vagina.

Alternatively, sometimes the embryo just dislodges part of the endometrium  itself, and that appears like a brownish clot.


SOURCE: http://www.fertilityfriends.co.uk/forum/index.php?topic=266378.0

So there we go.  All safe.  And it only lasted that day.  But I do not regret taking the day off work.  I managed to squeeze a 2 hour sofa nap in, that day!

I haven’t been doing too well with feeling sick.  In fact yesterday it took me about 30 minutes to build up the courage to leave the house to get the bus to work as I was convinced I was going to be sick.  I wasn’t, and haven’t been yet.

I have discovered that I feel worse, so much worse (as in sick) after not getting enough sleep (‘enough’ being 10-11 hours a night at the moment!) my two worst days have followed nights out – a birthday party in Brighton and then the following weekend, a birthday night out at the casino – both times I was home and in bed by midnight, but both times, the following days I was ill.  Before I was pregnant we used to think that I’d be able to keep on with life as it was before, it’s not like pregnancy is an illness, right?  I’m trying to think more now of the importance of listening to what my body is telling me to do rather than fighting to stay ‘normal’.  I’m hoping that I’m one of those who gets a magical burst of renewed energy in the 2nd trimester though!

I’ve also been ‘noticing’ my womb.  I feel these funny little tugging sensations.  Not like a pain, though it’s not particularly comfortable.  Like there’s a string attached to it and it’s being tugged in different directions.  A bit like stretching.  I’ve been feeling it maybe two or three times a day since Sunday (5+4).  I almost completely forgot to mention about that, but then it just did it and reminded me while I was typing.

Another pregnancy symptom, which is a little nicer; I love my wife, so, SO much.  I just want to snuggle in to her and be close to her all of the time.  Like, ALL OF THE TIME.  She’s being very patient with this new leechy version of me.  I’m wondering if pregnancy hormones have some kind of primal love potion in them, in order to cement couplings to ensure the survival of the young.   I also feel a little overwhelmed that she gave me her baby to carry.  I mean, WHOA! Her tiny little unformed baby, for me to look after, forever more.  That’s huge!

I do have a side order of dread, with all of this though.  It’s making my head spin a little.  I am terrified of going to scan next week and them not finding a heart beat.  I can’t even … just, no.Love_heart

That, and everything in between – 4 weeks pregnant!!

I’ve been getting in trouble off the Mrs for not blogging. She likes to read it. Bless her 🙂

I hadn’t realised it’s been about a month since I last wrote a proper post. Since then, I have swung violently from fear to joy to anxiety to joy and more joy again. I never feel that any of those are the right place to write a blog from, but I suppose, thinking about it, those are the best ones. I kept thinking ‘tomorrow’ but then you know when tomorrow comes!?

So let me fill in the gaps.

Wednesday 20th Jan, Bec had her eggs retrieved, it was uneventful and all went completely smoothly. She wasn’t wheeled out of theatre this time in tears because she thought they didn’t get any eggs! She was a lot more chilled, probably because she told the anaesthetist she thought she’d woken up last time so he sent her under a little deeper! We went home and watched some lovely telly on the sofa together under a blanket with our pooches, and Bec got her KFC (her ultimate takeaway – my least favourite.)

We talked to the Dr this time about our worries about the fact that I had been bleeding since 2 days after the transfer on the last round, and although she felt it probably wasn’t anything to worry about, we agreed between us that we would up my progesterone to 3 times a day instead of 2, to give my endometrium a bit more support.

Monday 25th Jan (my Mum’s birthday!) was the embryo transfer. We got a call from the embryologist in the morning at about 10am to say that we had three stage 3 blastocysts, a stage 2, and two blastocysts that appeared to be developing abnormally. Up until then, we had agreed (or it was assumed between us) that we were having one transferred. I don’t know if you remember previously we had a stage 1 blast frozen and transferred (on our second go) – which we had always felt was a little bit of a waste of our time and money, we never felt good about that one. It felt in our hearts that it was a foregone conclusion, and it was hard to part with £1200 only to be proven right. I didn’t want to feel like that again, and that stage 2 blast was worrying me. Do we freeze it? Nope, put it back, along with the best stage 3! It just slipped out of my mouth, all unexpected. Well, it wasn’t quite that simple. We called the embryologist back a few times and had many rushed chats between ourselves and him, in between trying to blow dry hair and get ready to leave the house. We initially decided that we would transfer one back because we are scared of the possible medical complications of twin pregnancy, but then both realised that it didn’t feel right, we both had a niggly voice inside us telling us we should transfer both. Head said one, heart said two. We had to make the decision quick (as the embryologist had to prepare the embryo/s for transfer) – so we landed on two, and make a pact that we would take, head on, any implications of the decision.

On my previous transfers, I’d had a diazepam, as I’m not mad keen on those kinds of goings on down there by doctors and usually end up getting all tense and stressed and make it more difficult for everyone involved, so it’s better for everyone if I’m drugged. Well this time I decided not to – not sure why, I just decided not to. We got there and our favourite Dr and favourite nurse were on duty, so it all felt right. It felt like the right team. We all had a bit of a giggle, I told the nurse I wasn’t ‘drunk’ this time and she was great, took it as her cue to natter away at me and make me feel relaxed. We saw our little embies up on the screen and the embryologist came through to tell us that since he’d spoken to us, our grade 3 had progressed to a 4, and the stage 2, to a 3! In less than an hour! Plop, plop, the embies came to live with me.
Everything went smoothly, and we were off home shortly afterwards with huge smiles on our faces.

The embryologist later sent me this graph after I asked him for more info about our embies:

Embryo grading


  • Day 0 is the date of embryo collection where they were treated with ICSI (only 11 of our 14 were mature.)
  • Day 1 is how many of them fertilised (the two little dots in the eggs show the first two cells that are created when fertilisation occurs)
  • Day 3 shows how many cells they were at the point of checking and a grading – so the first one was 8 cells and graded 3 and 4 (out of 4)
  • Day 5 are our blastocysts, they are given a stage and a grade, stage 1-5 and two grades of A-C which represents the two different cell types in it (stage 5 and grade A being the best)

So we had 1 and 3 transferred, and 2 and 9 are in the freezer waiting to become siblings!

I mentioned before that we were coming at this round from a different angle. We had been so cautious previously and always felt too nervous to get too excited. We kept our feet firmly on the ground. Well this time we let it go, let ourselves dream and let ourselves feel the joy of what was potentially coming. We had a LOVELY 2ww. We almost kept forgetting that we were still yet to test, as I think in both of our minds, I was pregnant. I didn’t have any symptoms (though all the meds I’m on mess with me and I never feel completely ‘right’ on them) but we just felt positive.

Well, the 2ww was lovely until a couple of days before our test, when the reality set in that there was something in the near future that could put an end to all the joy and happiness, and then the fear started. I found myself not wanting to test and just carry on as we were.

I woke up on the morning of 3rd February and almost didn’t want to open my eyes. I woke Bec up and she set her timer on her phone while I went to the bathroom. I got back in bed and put the test on the side behind something so that I couldn’t see it. We both were clinging on to one another and almost in tears, “Oh why can’t we have a baby” even slipped out of Bec at one point. The buzzer went off, I reached over and immediately caught a glimpse of the strong two lines. I don’t know what kind of noise I made, but I fell to pieces. I haven’t cried like that since I was a child, and I couldn’t pull myself together. I think I was in complete and utter shock. Every time I tried to snap out of it, I looked at the test again and started off again. All I kept saying was “I can’t believe it, I’ve never been pregnant before!” …. Er, what!? K.

We decided straight away that we wanted to share with our families. We had initially said we would after the weekend as we were going away that weekend, but then the news became impossible to sit on. All parents and both siblings were sufficiently excited if a little confuzzled by their 6am calls! We tried to let the clinic know, but they told us to retest and call back on our ‘official’ testing day!


Unfortunately, Bec was going away the following day which was a bummer. But I retested on 5th Feb as instructed and the result was even stronger than the one two days before it! I let the clinic know, and they booked us in for our scan at 7+2.


I took the train down on Saturday to meet Bec and we went on to Brighton for a lovely weekend. Going out on the Saturday night all dolled up in heels and staying stone cold sober was interesting – I made it to about midnight!

Sunday we went out for breakfast – I ordered eggs benedict and asked for the eggs to be well cooked through. They came runny which made me feel a bit off. I sent them back to be recooked and when they finally arrived (after Bec had finished her breakfast) they were lovely … until they weren’t. I was happily munching my way through commenting on how lovely it all was until all of a sudden, it was like the eggs had turned bad and the sauce started to split and the whole plate became something very very bad that I couldn’t even look at. I found it difficult to swallow the mouthful I was currently chewing and had to head straight outside for some air.

That feeling continued on that day pretty strong, but has since wavered in and out. It’s just a random feeling of queasiness that washes over me every now and then. I hope it stays this way – because it’s a constant reminder that everything is as it should be, but it’s not making me actually sick! I guess that rather naive of me to wish at this point!

We called the clinic this morning and told a white lie that the appointment they have given us is proving difficult with work commitments, and did they have anything earlier that week? No such luck. It was worth a try!