Our Story

So, the long and short of it was that we needed fertility treatment. 

Firstly we embarked on IUI (inter-uterine insemination). We did 8 rounds of IUI in total, most of which were back-to-back, over the course of a year. 12 exhausting, draining, emotional, expensive, stressful months when every one of our treatments failed. Eventually we came to the conclusion that we had to move on to IVF.

Like most people I had my own perception of IVF and to be honest I was absolutely dreading it. All you really hear about is how many cycles couples have had to do in order to get pregnant, so to say I was skeptical about our first is an understatement. 

I started a programme of drugs to firstly halt my own natural cycle, and then to stimulate my ovaries to produce as many follicles as possible, each one potentially containing an egg. I had an ultrasound scan every other day to check how many follicles were growing and measure how big they were. When they were nearly ready to pop I went in to the clinic to have the eggs removed. Or so I thought...

What had actually happened was that I had reacted early to the final injection that I had taken the night before, causing the follicles to pop before I got to the clinic. I was sedated for the egg collection so I didn't know anything about what was going on, but was told afterwards that the consultant started the procedure and the 20 or so follicles I'd had the day before had ruptured and were empty.

That could have meant abandoning the whole cycle, but luckily our consultant was able to alter the procedure and after a lot of looking around he found 7 follicles that were still intact, each containing an egg. 3 days later 3 of the eggs had fertilised and become embryos. We decided to have 2 embryos implanted and freeze the remaining 1. Then we waited 2 weeks to take a pregnancy test.

The morning of the test I woke in a foul mood. I'd had some bleeding from around day 9 after the embryos were put back, so I really had no hope whatsoever that the treatment had worked. I grumpily did the test and left it on top of the toilet, not even wanting to look at the result. As I was brushing my teeth my husband came in to the bathroom and glanced at the test. In the mirror I saw his eyes widen in disbelief and I knew I was pregnant.

5 anxious weeks later we had our first scan and saw 2 tiny flickering heartbeats. Crazy.

So you know the rest of this story; I had twins and started writing a blog to myself. The end? Not quite...

For me there was always a feeling that the journey was unfinished. I often thought about the embryo in the freezer and so 3 years after the initial treatment we decided that we would investigate putting it back. We were told that the chances of success with an FET (frozen embryo transfer) were less than a fresh IVF cycle, but that as our embryo was good quality it was worth a shot. Once again I started taking drugs to halt my cycle and booked in to have the embryo transferred. We got a call that morning to say that it had defrosted successfully and all was looking good. The transfer was very straight forward and overall the experience was a great deal less stressful than the last time. Then we waited 2 weeks to take a pregnancy test.

It's funny, but this time I knew that it had worked. I remember sitting on the sofa thinking "well, clearly I'm pregnant", but I've no idea what gave me that idea. This time when I took the test and climbed back into bed I barely needed to look at it before I passed it to my husband and we both started giggling. 

5 weeks later (and a sleepless night) we were more than a little relieved to see just the one tiny heartbeat flickering. In all honesty if it had been twins again I would have been devastated!

So, there you go: one (nearly disastrous) cycle of IVF, 3 embryos and 3 babies who are sort-of-triplets, born 3 years apart.

And baby makes..errrrr... FIVE!

Yesterday we had a really lovely family day out. The sun was shining, the picnic was delicious and no one fell in dog poo. We arrived home at teatime, unpacked the car (pram, changing bag, wellies, picnic remnants) and it was only when I'd taken off my shoes, been for a wee and had a beans-on-toast/cheese-on-toast debate with the twins that I realised we'd left something in the car.

The baby.

We'd left the BABY in the CAR.

Now I know that this wasn't a major disaster (she was sitting patiently in her car seat, looking disapproving when I went to get her. I get the feeling that had she had the neck strength she would have been shaking her tiny head). I also know that having mentioned "the incident" to a few friends we're definitely not the first parents to have done it, but it just highlighted to me how although loads of things have changed hugely since the we went from 4 to 5, compared to the overwhelming impact of going from no babies to two babies, our third baby has slipped virtually unnoticed into our lives. Possibly a little too unnoticed if I'm leaving her in the car like a forgotten umbrella.

It might seem like having twins and then a singleton has made me into some sort of super-experienced uber-mum, but funnily enough in many ways I feel like I'm doing a lot of this baby stuff for the first time. Until recently I'd never carried a baby in a sling before, gone to a breastfeeding group, slept with a baby next to me in bed, or pushed a pram one-handed whilst carrying a latte. I'm really grateful that, although I've got two other children to think about, I've also had a taste of what it's like to have a single baby. I don't think I enjoyed having the twins much at first, and the first few months (OK, OK, 12 months) were a long, slow slog of sheer hard work. Now don't worry, I'm definitely not turning into an earth mother, but this time I find myself picking my baby up because I fancy giving her a cuddle, lingering over her bath, entertaining her with my tuneless singing and well, dare I say it, I'm sort of enjoying it.

For me the other major difference is that breastfeeding has (thankfully) been a bit of a success so far. 9 weeks in and although I still feel like I really have no clue what I'm doing, luckily the baby does and given the opportunity to feed she will just get on with it. Given that it never really got established last time, and that I gave up after 7 weeks of misery, I'm amazed that I'm actually managing to feed her myself. Funnily enough having wanted desperately to breastfeed this one I now feel that it really makes absolutely no difference how a baby is fed as long as the mother is happy. I could give up tomorrow and not feel the slightest pang of guilt or regret.

There have been a few surprises along the way, as well as a few things that I'm writing here just so that I remember them, so here is what I have learnt about having a baby this time around:

• Never underestimate the restorative properties of a really hot shower
• Leave the house every day
• Babies often sleep better on their own without a parent hovering over them
• Boots own-brand newborn nappies are rubbish - don't bother
• Compared to the performance of bottle-feeding (scrubbing, sterilising, mixing, warming, administering, burping, mopping up sick) whipping out a boob is convenient and (for me) much less stressful
• Look at the baby, not at the clock
• Shopping for nursing bras is fairly tricky when you're in constant fear of leaking milk all over the changing room (I'm offering no solution here - if you've got one let me know!)
• If someone offers to entertain your older children for an afternoon, always say yes
• The sun really will come out tomorrow (and then maybe you'll get some sleep)

And above all - always remember to get your baby out of the car.

Back in the babyhood

So, I've had a baby! How strange. She is a girl, she's very small and pink, grunty and wriggly. This is all I know so far (but she's only 5 weeks old).

Here's how it all happened: I'd been back and forth with my decision about how to give birth and after speaking to my midwife, a VBAC specialist midwife (VBAC stands for vaginal birth after cesarean) and various other mums with a variety of birth experiences here's what I had decided:

1. I didn't want to be induced
2. If I went past my due date I would have a cesarean
3. If my labour started and seemed to be progressing then I would have 10 hours to deliver, otherwise I'd have a cesarean

Overall I was fairly happy with this plan. Knowing that I wouldn't have a really long labour again, and that I was giving myself the opportunity to do what "normal" women do and have my baby naturally was the best way forward for me.

Of course my baby had other plans and all the soul-searching, VBAC research and planning went out of the window when she was confirmed as breech at 38 weeks. Gahhhhhhhhh! So we booked in for a planned cesarean 5 days later.

I'm pleased to report that my experience of having a cesarean this time couldn't have been more different. Waking up in the morning knowing that I was having my baby that day was really exciting, and the fact that we could get the twins organised with childcare was a big relief. In terms of the actual operation it was very calm and organised, there was music on, and the medical staff were all aware that my epidural had been inadequate last time and that I'd had a large blood loss. Because of this I had a spinal block rather than an epidural and the anesthetist took the time to ensure that I really couldn't feel anything. I even had that "have they started?" moment (they had!). Most importantly I got to see my baby as soon as she was out and she was lying on my chest having skin to skin contact straight away - all things I had totally missed out on last time. I was in recovery for about 20 minutes (in contrast to 3 hours with the twins) and the midwife fed me Belgian chocolates as I gave my daughter her first feed. Bliss!

36 hours later we were home and after 2 weeks I didn't even feel like I'd had surgery.

Here's my top tips for a cesarean birth:

• Don't beat yourself up about it! This is not the easy way out, you're not "too posh to push" (presumably!), this is the safest way for your baby to be born and who cares how you give birth?? Probably only you. Give yourself a break
• If you have any concerns tell the medical staff about them. I had a pre-op appointment 2 days before where I got to meet the anesthetist and talk through the procedure
• Have a really good dinner the night before as you won't be allowed to eat or drink until after you've had the baby
• Take a book -  although we'd got there at 7:30am we waited all day to go to theatre and it was the longest day of my life!
• High-waisted granny pants are a must. Buy them in a larger size so that they are nice and comfy
• Have your baby in your hospital bed with you so that you can easily pick them up when they need feeding
• Say yes to painkillers every time they are offered! Take paracetamol and ibuprofen alternately every 2 hours for at least 10 days
• The spinal block made me really itchy (particularly my face) - this is totally normal, but no one mentions it!
• If you want to breastfeed, feed all the time in the first few days to get it going. When my milk came in (day 4) it was really painful, but only lasted 24 hours until it was much more comfortable. Bear with it and ask for help
• Press your buzzer and get help with everything - I got them to wind her, change her, pass me my phone, get me a snack...
• The next morning when my catheter was out I could get out of bed and have a shower. You'll need to move slowly and stop if it hurts, but you should be fine to do this on your own. I was walking about fairly normally by the time we went home
• Take care of your back: you won't have any support from your stomach muscles so your back can get really sore. Hunching over when breastfeeding is really easy to do - put pillows behind you, bring the baby to you and drop your shoulders (mine always seem to creep towards my ears)
• When you get home take your baby to bed and stay there for a couple of days. I didn't do this the first time and my recovery was a lot slower
• If you don't want visitors, just say no!

Right, now to work out how to deal with 3-year-old twins and newborn. I feel another post coming on!

"Watch that stick!"

I've recently realised that I'm guilty of a bit of "over-parenting". Basically for me this means interfering/intervening in my twins' play when it's not necessary, hovering over them and "advising" them when they are eating, telling them how to play with something and charging in to diffuse any potentially hostile situation. I've been spending far too much energy and getting uptight about things that, to be honest, are none of my business and it needs to stop.

As a mum I've always felt that it's my duty to control whatever is happening regarding my children. If one was about to hit the other I'd step in, if a cup was about to drop off the table I'd catch it, if they weren't playing with a toy "correctly" I'd "help" them. Urgh! What a pain in the bottom! No wonder my son would tell me to go away! Now that they are 3 years old I have made a conscious effort to take a step back, let them discover things for themselves and constantly ask myself "what's the worst that could happen?" 

Well, nothing too terrible so far. If my daughter decides that she wants to eat all her potatoes, then her carrots, and then her chicken, who cares? She doesn't need my helpful advice on mixing mouthfuls so that they taste yummy. It's her dinner and she should be able to eat it however she likes. My son is massively into jigsaws at the moment, and can complete one in record time, but he always does them upside down. Does this matter? No. Does it take every fibre of my being not to intervene and demonstrate how much easier it would be the right way up? Yes! When it comes to their disputes I've realised that I can't intervene at the first whimper or whine. It's the hardest thing not to jump in when you hear playful laughter switch to a wail or an indignant "hey!", but I've forced myself on a number of occasions recently to take a step back and not charge in on my white horse to try to resolve the situation. Not least because I often have no idea what has occurred and we all know that taking a toddler's word for it is dodgy ground. I'm hoping that letting them resolve their own disputes will mean that they are more independent and capable of compromise, as well as understanding the importance of taking responsibility and saying sorry. Big dreams, I know! 

As I've noticed this tendency towards over-parenting in myself I have also noticed that it really is all around. On holiday I witnessed a Dad coaching his 7-year-old around a climbing frame, barking instructions from the ground about the importance of having "3 points of contact" on a ladder at all times. It really made me giggle (maybe he was a health and safety inspector or something) and I wondered how this child was ever going to function in the big, bad world if he couldn't be trusted on a climbing frame? (By the way, the child was very cautious, obedient and didn't look like he was going to do anything terribly adventurous, ever.) I was quite proud of my twins who were running around, swinging off things, falling over and getting in a pickle as Mr R and myself sat on a nearby picnic table with a glass of wine. "Benevolent neglect" I call this particular style of parenting! 

I've also seen a 4-year-old on reins, grandparents doing the "follow the child around the playground" thing, packets of crisps being opened the "correct" way for children who must surely be school-age, a panic-stricken mother screaming at her child to be careful of a stick that was lying on the ground and couldn't have presented any sort of danger unless the child suddenly decided to pick it up and poke himself in the eye.

Of course we have to look after our children and keep them safe, but we also need to leave them alone and give them some space. With the arrival of baby number 3 only about 4 weeks away, my twins aren't going to have much choice!