Yesterday I had a Spa day with Sam at Mangwanani African Day Spa, as always it was a total treat, a day spent drinking champagne, being massaged & pampered and talking – lots and lots of talking. At one point we were talking about how those of us that battle IF found out very early on in our pregnancies that we’re pregnant, way earlier than women who have not had fertility treatment. It got me thinking about my first pregnancy and how  very very different that experience was.

We’d been home from honeymoon for about a week when I woke up one day very dizzy and light headed, W took me off to the Dr and the first thing he asked me was if I was pregnant, we all had a laugh at that seen as we’d only been home from honeymoon for a week but our GP insisted that I do an HPT at his office. I was not surprised when the results were negative. He diagnosed me with a middle ear infection and sent me home. About a week later it suddenly dawned on me (see the innocence here?) that AF was late. I wasn’t too concerned, I mean I’d never been late before but I figured it was the stress of the wedding etc that had perhaps thrown my cycle off slightly. I left it. A few more days later and I started to worry slightly as AF was now more than a week late. W and I still had a discussion about what could possibly be wrong, we agreed that I’d wait a few more days and then make an appointment with my gynae, I was worried something serious was wrong as I’d never been late. We waited a few more days, me still slightly worried but at the same time convinced that AF was bound to start at any moment. Eventually I had to concende that something was very wrong as I was now two weeks late, W suggested that I do an HPT before contacting my Dr. I thought it was a total waste of time seen as the one I’d done at my GP a few weeks back had been negative and besides? Aside from going on honeymoon and doing what honeymooners do, we hadn’t actually tried so a pregnancy was the furthest thing on my mind. I bought the test, that in itself was different to today. Now during a treatment I sneak around Dischem loading my basket with 2 of each type of HPT they have there trying to hide my obsession under loads of other crap I don’t actually need, in the bottom of the basket, back in the innocent days, I simply strolled into the pharmacy, picked out ONE test, paid for it and walked out. When I got home, I quickly pee’d on it and carried it into the lounge, set it down on the coffee table and lit a cigarette. After a couple of seconds I looked down at it and started screaming at Walter – What is that? What the F***** is that? As a very strong, very bold second line formed on the test. I remember bursting into tears and crying my eyes out from the shock of it.

The following day my beta test confirmed that I was indeed pregnant and approximately 6 to 7 weeks along. We were SO excited we shared the news with the whole world. Three days later I woke up in a pool of blood, doubled over in pain and it was all over.

How very different from all my subsequent pregnancies and IF treatments where I”m paralyzed by all the what if’s? Overwhelmed by the desire to urinate on a plastic sticks and stare at them for hours willing a second line to appear and having it very rarely actually oblige. And never ever sharing the news with anyone else.

I wish I could go back to that time of innocence but instead I’ll prepare myself for my FET and the days of obsessing and staring at pee sticks!