It's no secret that I've had issues getting pregnant. I've shared my infertility journey on the blog, from our first (cancelled) round of IVF to our second (unsuccessful) round of IVF. The unsuccessful round left us with three frozen embryos and in November we underwent a frozen embryo transfer.
I decided against blogging about it because I hoped that it would be successful and I would be able to share the whole thing, with a happy ending.
And it was, briefly, successful.
Five years, eleven months and two weeks after we officially started trying to get pregnant, I got my first ever positive pregnancy test.
I can't even begin to describe all the emotions I felt. Everything from overwhelming excitement, through to complete terror, and all the other emotions in between. I had incredible insomnia, crazy nausea, a seriously overactive sense of smell, and towards the end I was beginning to get the early stages of morning sickness. I loved every minute of it.
Unfortunately it didn't last.
After just a week of enjoying my pregnancy, I started bleeding. Despite an early, promising blood test (which seemed to point towards twins), I went on to miscarry a couple of days later.
It hit us hard.
We had nicknamed our embryos Olaf and Elsa (because they were Frozen, of course) and as we never had it confirmed just how many were in there, we've mourned the loss of both of them.
I'll write more about them in another post and I'll be back properly after Christmas. In the meantime, when you see a snowflake or two this year, think of the babies I never got to meet.