Wild Horses

So, nestled in the heart of the New Forest with a Guinness in hand (well it is St Paddy’s day!), a husband focusing on the Brighton football game and a Tinker fast asleep at my feet after her five mile walk I finally feel I have the opportunity to fully reflect on the past week and a half.

 

The anxious mind, the worried thoughts and the deep dread feels like a lifetime ago. On Friday 8th March 2019 I entered the Royal Sussex Hospital to be told my fate. Would we be able to conceive a child naturally (and safely), or would we forever have to rely on IVF.

 

I remember the day of the HSG like it was yesterday, and if I am honest I think it will be etched into my memory for ever more. I spent the day unable to breath, unable to concentrate and unable to steady my racing heart. In fact, according to my Fitbit I spent the day with an average heart rate of around 120bpm! I was on my own for the majority of the day, Sam was at work, as was my mum, so I was alone, with only my thoughts and silence. It was the kind of silence that hurt my head, but noise was too much for my brain too. I was in a lose lose situation all day.

 

Sam came home and my heart rate instantly decreased to 90bpm. This was a telling sign that I needed him by my side. I still felt flustered, short tempered and worried, but it was manageable with him by my side. By the time we picked my Mum up, my heart rate had reduced to 80bpm and I felt much more together, and much more grounded; until I went into the hospital.

 

Once I checked in to the reception at the hospital I was on the peripheral of a panic attack. Everything was tunnel vision, my breathing was laboured, I had pins and needles in my hands. I was on the edge, and I just needed to do all I could to remain calm. As I steadied my breathing and focused my mind on my breath my name was called and I was taken through to a cubical, passed a plastic bag and a gown and was left to change into the very flattering hospital gown. I was left in the cubical for approximately 15 minutes. Alone. Alone with just my spiralling thoughts for comfort. It felt like a lifetime. I was on the edge again, and this time I found it harder to control.

 

Eventually I was called in to the room by a lovely lady. A lady that would later become my support and comfort. She took me through to a large X-ray room and introduced me to the Dr that would be carrying out the procedure. He started to talk to me, and suddenly I started to cry, uncontrollably. I couldn’t form any words, I couldn’t see through my tears and my ears were ringing, so I was unable to hear what he was trying to say. He highlighted how important it was that I heard what he had to say, and that afterwards I could do all the crying I wanted, but that it was important that I listened to the words he was saying. I couldn’t listen. I couldn’t hear. But I did all I could to make it seem that I was understanding, nodding at him as if all the words he had to say were crystal clear. They weren’t. But I had to make him believe me, so he would get on with it. Once he finished talking I signed an agreement and the lovely lady that had called me into the room offered me a box of tissues and showed me over to the bed and explained how I needed to lie. She asked me if I wanted to hold her hand and I agreed; I needed some kind of comfort, and she was my best solution. Because of the nature of the procedure I was unable to have anyone else in with me, so she was the next best thing. She had a really friendly face, and she held my hand and stroked it as if she were someone I had known my whole life. It was as if she knew that the results of this procedure were about to shape my entire future.

 

I lay on the bed, legs akimbo, and was warned that the procedure was about to begin. Never, in my wildest nightmares, did I imagine the pain that was upon me. Firstly, he inserted the cannula to the wall of my uterus. JESUS that hurt. In my naive mind I believed this would the worst it would get. Oh boy, wasn’t I wrong! The next step was for the doctor to inject the dye through the cannula into my uterus, ready for it to make its way around my reproductive. I had been warned this would be “uncomfortable”, and from my research it should be fairly painless. Of all the things I had read whilst preparing myself for the HSG, only when the tubes (or in my case tube) are blocked will it be excruciating. Well, due to this research I was not prepared for the pain in the slightest! It was honestly the worst pain I had ever experienced. It was like molten working it’s way around my nether region. I have always believed I have a pretty high pain threshold, but this had led to me screaming out, crying for the pain to stop. Something I have never done. I convinced myself that the pain was due to a blockage; which led to me becoming more panicked and inconsolable. I was ready for the news that would shatter my dreams into a million pieces. The whole time the lovely lady radiologist continued to hold and stroke my hand, and reassured me it was ok to squeeze her hand as much as I could. I didn’t want to as she was a tiny little being, and I didn’t want to hurt her; especially as she had been so kind. The doctor inflicting so much pain on me on the other hand…. (I am of course only joking…. sort of!)

 

Suddenly, the pain stopped, the doctor removed his tools and told me that everything was “perfect”. Perfect? PERFECT!!!! These were not the words I had expected, but words I was so very, very elated to hear. I fuzzed out again, swimming in the beauty of what he had just said to me. I had caught snippets of things he was saying to me “I can’t see any reason why you couldn’t conceive naturally”, “your uterus is in great condition”, “you can rest easy now”.

 

I was in complete euphoria.

 

I was shown back to the cubical that had once caused me to feel so alone, and was the gateway to my fate, which was now the gateway to my future. My future of no ill-placed worry or anxiety, only positivity, happiness and lots of baby-making!

 

After I changed out of the gorgeous gown and back into my own clothes I rushed through to the waiting area where my gorgeous husband and wonderful Mama waited for me. Sam had a smile that would give a Cheshire Cat a run for it’s money and my Mama stood with her hands covering her mouth and tears in her eyes! Turns out they could hear everything (mainly due to the fact they had spent the entire time with their ears pressed up against the door). We jumped (literally) for joy and we all swam in the pool of happy tears, embracing every last minuscule moment. This was it, our future can finally begin. We are no longer being held back by the heartbreak we had experienced three years ago. We can finally move on.

 

It has taken for me to be surrounded by such beautiful countryside, and taking walks in the heart of a forest, with nothing but wild horses for company, for me to finally feel I have processed this epic shift.

 

Now, it’s time for us to head onto the next step of our journey – controlling my PCOS ready to put me in optimum health to make us the most beautiful, most precious bundle we could have ever imagined. We will be parents, naturally and that joyous moment will make this rocky road so very worth it. We will be the best parents, of that I am sure and we now have a new fire in our belly to make our dreams come true.

 

Wild horses couldn’t drag me away
Wild, wild horses we’ll ride them some day

 

XOX

2 thoughts on “Wild Horses

  1. Mine was painful, too. Not as bad as yours, but definitely painful. I also wouldn’t say it’s the worst pain I’ve been in because labor takes that cake.

    -Which you’ll be able to experience, too! 😉 Congratulations!

    Like

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