Day 8 of Downregging - First scan booked!

We have progress! My AF has arrived, a good 3/4 days early, which has surprised me as we were told that it was likely to be late due to the effects of the Buserelin. But I'm not complaining - an early AF means that I can get on and book my downregulation scan at CARE.

This scan is where they measure your womb lining and also look at your ovaries to see if there are any follicles or cysts that are still there after last cycle. They are looking to see a nice thin lining and ovaries that look like there's no-one at home. If all looks quiet, we will be able to start on our Menopur, which is the drug that stimulates the ovaries into producing lots of eggs. If this is not the case, I will not be considered to have completely 'downregulated' so will have to continue with the Buserelin until I have.

So, the scan is booked in for Wednesday morning next week - 6 sleeps, and 6 injections away. It's another little milestone to aim for, which I'm glad of. Injection 8 tonight.

Although I have period pains (tummy cramps and lower back ache) today, the fuzzy head feeling and the sleepiness that the drugs have been giving me seem to have lifted somewhat. I am reluctant to take any painkillers as I think my poor liver has got enough to deal with from the drugs to cope with any more. So I am stoically determined to mentally rise above the pain today.

My lovely husband has been wonderful throughout everything so far. He has cooked nearly every night, ran me baths, fetched and carried and generally been a fantastic support. I am so lucky to have him and I love him so much. I hope I can make him a Daddy.

We're off to see Russell Brand tonight: it'll be good to have our attention distracted for a few hours.

Reflections on day 6 of downregging

I'm glad I didn't do a post yesterday as it would have been a bit miserable! I had a bad day yesterday: my head felt like it was stuffed with wet cotton wool, and I felt exhausted and light-headed. And I had a hard day at work, so I was not in a great frame of mind. Seems like the Buserelin is making its presence felt.

When it came to do my injection, it took three goes to get the needle in and it stung a bit. It seemed as if my skin had thickened up overnight! Anyway, injection 6 is done and dusted and it's onto injection 7 tonight.

There are signs of my AF coming too, and I've had a few sharp stabbing pains in my right ovary area. Don't what that signifies, but I know I don't get that sort of pain in a regular month. I do hope that my AF comes soon so I can book my downregging scan at the clinic. I really want this stage to pass quickly so I can get on with the business of growing some nice juicy follicles!

On a postitive note, I managed to get through ALL of a 2 litre bottle of water at my desk yesterday. Pleased with myself for that, although I am peeing like a racehorse!!

Work calls. Another busy day. PMA.

Day 5 of downregging and a bit flat

It's been a mixed bag today. I woke up feeling flat and unwilling to get out of bed. At least I wasn't on a timescale as Monday is my day off. Most of the day I've been unable to shake this feeling of lethargy and lack of motivation to do even the most simple of tasks.

But I did make an effort to walk to the butchers which is about a mile and a half round trip so I got a bit of exercise. I seem to have an urge to cook. Yesterday I made a scrummy carrot cake (courtesy of Jamie Oliver's recipe) and although I'm not one for baking, it was delicious. Now I'm just about to make a cottage pie for our dinner.

I had a massage this afternoon and that always perks me up a bit so I'm feeling a bit brighter than I did earlier.

Injection number 5 looms. Stay with me, Positive Mental Attitude.

Injections becoming routine

Well, injections 2 and 3 are done and I feel like we are now really making some progress. I didn't get the raised red patch of skin with these two injections, and they were easy to do, and pain-free.

Yesterday morning I felt a bit hot and prickly so I think I may have been having a bit of a hot flush. It's not like me to feel hot when H is cold, so something must have been going on! I've also felt really sleepy so I think that this is also something to do with the drugs.

I'm not really dwelling too much on the outcome of this cycle: perhaps it's a defence mechanism but I'm taking each day at a time and so far it's working in keeping me sane and relaxed.

On a non-IVF note, we bought a new car yesterday! We've been thinking about it for a while, so when we saw a used black Peugeot at a dealership yesterday we thought we'd be decisive and buy it. So, we should have it in a couple of weeks. Exciting.

Anyway, I'm going to spend the day making tiaras and jewellery (I have a small business) and maybe do some cooking later. H is out for the afternoon so I can have the house to myself.

Injection One - We're on our way!

The first milestone has been passed! We have done one injection and have officially started downregging!

We have decided we will do these injections at 7pm each night, so they're out of the way for the evening and not hanging over us. So, after we'd eaten, we went into the kitchen to get started.

H prepared the syringe by drawing up 0.5ml of Buserelin and flicking out the air bubbles. I pinched a bit of fat on my tummy and stuck the needle in. I felt a bit more resistance than I did the other day at the clinic but it slid in ok. It stung very slightly as I depressed the syringe and the liquid went in, and I don't think I injected it all in a very smooth way. I was probably holding the syringe a bit awkwardly. Anyway, got all the drug in there and that was it - injection one done.

I sat on the sofa afterwards and was almost waiting for something to happen. Silly really! Anyway, after about 10 minutes the injection site felt a bit hot and itchy and looking at it, the skin looked raised and red. It looked as if the drug was just sitting in a pocket under my skin and not dispersing. It felt spongy to touch. I rubbed it gently a bit and after a couple of hours, the raised area had gone down. I'll see if this happens again and if it does, perhaps I'll ask the clinic if it's normal.

So here we are, at the start of this very surreal journey. I so hope it has a happy ending.

Au naturel for one more day

So, it's the last day of being drug-free and au naturel! Tomorrow is the day that could be the beginning of big life change for us.

I am feeling calm and in control about the whole thing. It's much much better to actually be taking steps towards the chance of a pregnancy than to just be sitting around endlessly waiting for something to happen.

It's hard though, to get the balance of emotion right. I know I need to stay positive and calm, but I also don't want to get my hopes up too much only to come crashing down at the end of the cycle. I guess what I need to be is realistically hopeful. Right - will aim for that.

I am drinking a lot of water in a bid to keep my body healthy so I'm off to visit the loo all the time! But I think it can only help with diluting the effects of the drug on my body, so I'm determined to keep it up.

I have apologised in advance to people in the know, so that if I'm grumpy or tearful over the next few weeks, they won't get too offended/worried. Fingers crossed though, that I won't get any strong side effects.

First go with the needle

I received a phone call this morning from CARE, asking if they could change Thursday's injection training appointment to today instead. Mondays are my day off so it was fine for us to head over to sign all of the consent forms and to practice injecting.

The Buserelin injections is the one that shuts down your hormones and gives you a temporary menopause; I start taking it on Thursday. I had to pinch the flesh on my tummy and insert the syringe into the skin (of course I didn't inject any drugs just yet). It's the needle pictured above. Small. I did expect to feel a bit of a sting, but as the needle went in, I felt absolutely nothing! What a relief! The nurse said that it would be better if I did my own injections, as sometimes when the medication goes in it can sting, and if I am administering the drug, I can push it in more slowly if it does. There's more control if you do it yourself.

So, that's one more hurdle jumped. Now I have two more drug free days before my body becomes that of a menopausal woman! I feel ready.

Needles and pins

Happy Valentines' day!

We've had a nice day: we drove out to the country and a Ploughman's in a country pub. It nearly ended in tears though! H told me last night that he had forgotten to get me a card, and although I tried not to mind, I felt a bit hurt. Turns out he was just joking, and out came a lovely card and some smellies this morning.

Anyway, back to the drugs. We unpacked the box of medication last night and had a good look at what everything is for. All seems present and correct: three vials of Suprecur for 'downregging' to shut down my hormonal system, plus syringes to use with that; five boxes of Menopur to use for 'stimming' to get lots of egg follicles growing, and the needles and syringes to go with that; some progesterone pessaries to use after embryo transfer; some drawing up needles and a sharps bin.

The drawing up needles are used to squirt in the diluting substance into the solid Menopur drug in its vial. They are bloody big and thick and when I first saw them my heart skipped a beat as I thought that these were the needles I would be sticking in me! It was a relief when I realised that actually, the needles used for downregging are very small and the ones used for stimming are a bit bigger but still fairly small. I will post some pictures of the different needles next to my thumb for size comparison.

We have actually managed to mess something up before we even start on the jabs. We have managed to get the lid jammed onto the sharps bin with all of the drugs and needles still inside. We did manage to get the drugs out through the small hole in the top, but it's not a good start, is it!?

Never mind, all the drugs are set out ready for Thursday. We are all set.

Drug dealing on Friday 13th

So, H has just told me that he has taken delivery of our IVF drugs at home. Apparently, the box they arrived in isn't too large, but he's had a peek in it and it's full of needles! Of course, I expected that, but Yikes all the same!

One of the drugs, the HcG trigger shot that you have to take last of all to ripen the eggs just prior to egg collection, has to be kept in an ice-box within the 'fridge. I bet H is thinking back to five years ago before we met when his 'fridge was filled with nothing other than a few cans of lager and and some cheese. Now the lager has been replaced by a vial of powerful hormones that he will have to jab his wife with in about 4 weeks' time. How things change, eh?

I'm impatient to finish work and get home to have a good look at the box of tricks. I've been advised that it can be a bit overwhelming when you see all of the drugs together, so a good thing to do is to separate all of the different types of drugs into different bags so that you only have to deal with one set at a time. So that'll be my Friday night.

Just thought - it's Friday 13th today. If I was superstitious that would not be good. But I'm not, so it's ok!

It's all suddenly happening!

We got back from the Maldives on Monday to find that we had been refunded the money for our treatment that we'd already paid out to CARE. Great! The NHS had stumped up!

We also had an email from the US to say that our probe had been finished! We were ready to begin treatment now. Wow. Both of us got butterflies immediately.

I rang CARE to see when we could start the ball rolling, knowing that IVF drugs usually start on day 21 of your cycle. For me the next day 21 is next Thursday 19th so I thought I'd have to wait until next month. But to my surprise they told me that they can fit me in for this month.

WE START IVF NEXT THURSDAY!!!

Yesterday I was sent my protocol, which basically means the list of drugs you have to take on which days. For those who this means anything to, I am to inject 0.5ml of Buserelin from 19th for approx. 2 weeks then I will start on injections of 300iu Menopure. The Buserelin has the effect of shutting down your hormonal system so that the clinic can take control of the function of your ovaries - it basically induces a temporary menopause. When this stage (known as 'downregging') is complete, I will have a scan and then can start on the Menopure whose job it is to stimulate my ovaries into ripening lots of egg follicles at the same time. This lasts for about 10 days, then the ripe eggs are collected through minor surgery, hopefully fertilised in the lab, and then tested for CF. If there are any good ones free of CF, they are implanted back into me. Then we have to wait two weeks for a pregnancy test.

My drugs are due to arrive tomorrow. This is really happening now. I'm terrified and excited at the same time. We could be closer than ever to the complete joy of a BFP or closer than ever to the most devastating news that it hasn't worked. Only time will tell.

New year, new start?

We began 2009 with a new sense of hope. This had to be our year. 2008 was supposed to have been a blissful year for us - our first year as a married couple. Yet it had been a year full of periods of mind-crippingly long waits punctuated with disappointment, crashing lows and feverish highs.

2009 is going to be our year. We have to believe that - it makes no sense not to be positive.

January was quiet. The lab got on with our test and we just got on with life. We had a healthy month, no booze to speak of and a renewal of the vitamins.

We went on holiday to the Maldives on 1st February and had a blissful week in a water villa, sunbathing, snorkeling and enjoying each other's company.

The Funding Appeal

I alternated between dejection and anger when I knew we'd been refused NHS funding for our PGD treatment. We seemed to tick all of the boxes - we were the right age, had no children, I had never been pregnant, we were the right weight, in a stable relationship . . . .

Why on earth would they not fund us? And just as frustratingly, why would they not tell us the reason they had refused us?? It took my genetic counsellor and the embyologist at CARE to ring the PCT to find out why they had said no. I felt so out of control at this time - I was the bloody patient, why are they treating me like an imbecile!?

Anyway, it turned out that they had decided not to fund us as they had misinterpreted a letter from CARE stating that our fertility was normal. Of course, it was not. H was unlikely to get me pregnant due to the sperm issues so we would need ICSI anyway.

I remember turning up at my mum's house in the midst of all this stress and just breaking down. I felt like this was just too much and that I was banging my head against a brick wall. I have usually kept my outbursts of emotion quite private, but this time I couldn't hold it all in.

Anyway, I picked myself up again off the floor (wondering how many more times I would have to do that) and got on with composing an appeal to the PCT. I left no stone unturned: letters were included from my auntie who has CF children, from the genetic counsellor, from CARE, and we even managed to extract a brief statement from our very begrudging GP. We sent the appeal off in December and waited with trepidation for the outcome.

Two days before Christmas, we found out that the appeal had been successful!! Wonderful news in itself but also wonderful in the way that it gave both of us a real boost. Like suddenly we could see a tiny pinprick of light at the end of a long tunnel. The PCT agreed to fund one fresh cycle of PGD IVF and two frozen cycles, if we are lucky enough to get any 'spare' embryos to freeze.

We decided to relax and enjoy Christmas, pleased that we were finally on our way.

The first consultation at CARE, Nottingham - November 2008

On 3rd November 2008 we had our first consultation at CARE in Nottingham. It took several hours to get through all of the tests that were required of us, Hep B, Hep C, Chlamydia, HIV, height and weight measurements and a semen analysis, and there was a bit of waiting in between.

Our consultant was lovely - and I thought she was even lovelier when she gave us a 35% to 50% chance of success! She said that if were were coming for regular IVF, she would say we would have a 50% chance, but as statistically, 25% of any embryos we create will be affected with cystic fibrosis, our chances fell a bit to 35%. However, if we got to the stage where there are healthy embryos to transfer back into me, we would be back at 50%.

The following week I had to come back for an internal ultrasound scan (commonly known as the 'fanny cam' to IVFers!) to check the number of follicles on my ovaries and to check the shape of my uterus. I was relieved to hear that all looked fine and that I had 13 follicles developing for that month. Those 13 follicles, when under the influence of the stimulating drugs in an IVF cycle, might be expected to produce a similar number of eggs. A good number.

I also picked up some cheek swab kits from CARE. In order to develop the test for Cystic Fibrosis that they will use on our embryos, they need to collect the DNA from me and H and our parents. It was a bit odd standing with H's parents in our kitchen twirling a pipe cleaner inside their cheeks to collect the cells. I felt like a nurse!

We sent the cheek swab samples back to CARE for them to send off to the lab in the US, thus beginning a three month wait for our test to be developed. But as far as I was concerned, the prospect of this wait was better than the previous waiting around whilst entrenched in all the bureaucracy. At least this time we were waiting knowing that things were progressing.

Red tape and long waits

We had our first consultation at Guy's hospital in June 2008 and were dismayed to be told that PGD IVF cannot happen very quickly: first a test based on the individual couple's genes needs to be developed, funding needs to be sought from the NHS, and there are waiting lists to join. At the end of our day in London we felt deflated to learn that we would not be beginning our treatment until at least the early part of 2009. Eight whole months away. It felt like a lifetime.

We tried to plan lots of fun things to do to make the time pass more quickly. We went to gigs, on holiday and tried to make the most of being a childless couple. Two months passed after the appointment and I rang our Primary Care Trust to see if they had any news on the funding application. They told me that they had not received an application from Guy's for us. Puzzled, I contacted Guy's and was stunned to hear that they had not even begun on our paperwork. Did they not realise that every day feels like a week when you're waiting for your much-longed for baby? Or at least a chance at having one.

So, totally disillusioned with Guy's we investigated CARE, a private clinic much closer to home. There are only a handful of clinics in the UK that offer PGD IVF, so choice is very limited. After visiting CARE we were convinced that this was the clinic for us and we promptly changed over to them. We had some concerns as CARE do not develop the PGD test in-house: rather they are affiliated with a lab in the US, Genesis Genetics, which develops the PGD 'probe' for them. But we came away reassured that they were very experienced, and that they actually cared.

So now we had to sort out the funding. This was an absolute nightmare. Our GP was unhelpful, unfriendly and lacked knowledge on PGD. Luckily, our Genetic Counsellor from the local health authority co-ordinated the funding application for us and after a couple of months, the form was submitted. This was October. A few weeks later we heard we had been refused funding.

Devastation again. How much more bad news were we going to get this year? You start to get a bit of paranoia that someone has it in for you, that nothing is going to go right. We were fortunate in that we could afford to fund a cycle ourselves - it costs around £7k, so it's a struggle, but we had recently sold H's old house, so could use the proceeds from that. However, I was determined to appeal the decision.

How we got to be doing PGD IVF

Being a mother is something I always presumed I would be. As a child, I played games based on families; tea parties involving mummies and daddies, brothers and sisters with my dolls and with my friends. I’ve never been an overtly motherly type: unless babies have been part of my immediate family or very close friends, I’ve never been a cooer or a clucker over someone else’s newborn. Instead, I guess you could say that I’ve just been quietly maternal since adulthood.

When I met my husband (know hereafter as H) when I was 27, I knew very quickly that he was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and who I wanted to be the father of my children. It hit me like a thunderbolt really! When we got married after three years of being together, we were looking forward to trying for a family after about 9 months or so of being newly-weds. We knew that I carried the gene for Cystic Fibrosis: this had been confirmed when I was in my teens, after two cousins of mine had been diagnosed with the disease and genetic testing had been offered to the rest of the family. We knew that we needed to get H tested for the mutation, given that 1 in 20 people in the UK are carriers of the disease. However, the spirit in which we requested this test was very much along the lines of making sure boxes were ticked and everything was ready to go before we made our family.

July 2007
So, when we received the terrible news that H also carried the CF gene, we were absolutely devastated. It meant that we had a 25% chance that each child of ours would have the CF disease, a 50% chance that the child would be a carrier, like us, and a 25% chance that the child would neither be a carrier nor a CF sufferer. Through our genetic counsellor, we were presented with these stark options:
1) Continue to try to get pregnant naturally and leave things to nature, which includes the acceptance of the possibility of having a CF child.
2) Continue to try to get pregnant naturally, and opt for a CVS test antenatally at 11 weeks gestation, allowing us to terminate a pregnancy if we wished.
3) Go for a specialist type of IVF treatment, PGD IVF, whereby only embryos that are free of the CF disease would be transferred back into the womb.
4) Remain childless
5) Pursue adoption

Not a great set of choices. With lots of tears and heartache, we took some time to talk things through, and, although none of these options seemed any easier than the others, we went with our gut instinct that we would try naturally and then opt for a CVS test if we got pregnant. We did not feel we could bring a child into the world, knowing the suffering he/she would go through. I admit that selfish reasons also formed part of our decision.

August - November 2007
We thought the best thing to do would be to start trying immediately, given that the road ahead might not be plain sailing. So in August 2007, we threw away the condoms (I had come off the pill earlier that year to resume my natural cycles), and with trepidation and excitement, began to try to conceive. We were on holiday during part of that first month. It was so strange thinking that each time we had sex it could change our lives. You spend so long trying not to get pregnant, that it almost feels taboo when you actually start to try. Towards the end of the holiday, I was imagining all sorts of symptoms: stomach cramps, nausea, strange dips in temperature (I was temperature charting religiously); so much so that I was quietly convinced there was a baby implanting inside me. When I got my period the day we got home, I was disappointed, but still excited for the next cycle. I knew all the statistics – it could take a few months.

Over the next two months, the same build up of anxiety and excitement occurred as I neared the end of my cycle, but this time, I started to notice some irregular bleeding. At first I was convinced this was the heralded ‘implantation spotting’ and I secretly started to plan the nursery in my head. But all of the time I was frightened. If this is really it, then how am I going to deal with carrying our baby for 11 weeks, then face the anxiety of a CVS test and maybe a termination if the baby is CF? I wasn’t sure how I would face this, but we decided to take one step at a time, and not worry about things that we may not ever have to face anyway.

My emotions were not very well controlled during the first four months of trying, I admit. I would veer from being happily optimistic and relaxed during the first half of my cycle, to being obsessive, anxious and impatient during the dreaded ‘two week wait’ for my period. I also discovered that I seemed to have a rather short luteal phase of 10-11 days, which, with the irregular spotting, made me anxious that something might not be quite right with me. But we kept going. H did an at-home sperm test, and the results came back as ok, but the kit only tested concentration of sperm and not motility or morphology. We were reasonably satisfied that things seemed ok in his department!

At the end of the fourth month, I was convinced that we had done it. I became really nauseous, my breasts felt heavier and tender, and I had some strange spotting. My period was two days late and I began to plan how I would break the amazing news to H. I took some tests: they were negative, but I thought that perhaps it was a little early to get a positive result. Then my period arrived, and the bottom dropped out of my world. I fell to pieces, crying and became very dejected with the whole situation.

December 2007 - March 2008
So, I booked an appointment with my doctor to discuss things. I took my temperature charts with me and explained our situation to my GP. She seemed rather bemused that we had only been trying for four months, and told me that I should ‘relax and then it would happen’ (this is an irritating thing to say to someone who is trying to conceive, and a completely awful thing to say to someone with infertility), whilst also regaling me with tales of her patients who had given up all hope of a pregnancy and started adoption proceedings, only to find out that they had conceived after all. This was unhelpful to me – after all, what difference does someone else’s story make to us? It does not mean that there will be no problems with possibility of the conception of our child. I was a little disgruntled. But she did take on board the fact that, given our CF genes, our circumstances were somewhat different, and that I was more than a little anxious to conceive sooner rather than later. She agreed to send me for some blood work, to test my progesterone levels, my FSH, my Rubella immunity and my thyroid levels.

I got my blood tests back. All seemed fine. My progesterone levels, although not terribly high, showed that I had ovulated that month and my FSH came back at 6, which I read showed average to good egg reserves. My Rubella immunity was in place and my thyroid levels were normal.

H was worried about me at this stage, I think. We agreed that I would give the temperature charts a rest: after all, we had ascertained that I was ovulating on more or less the same day each month, and that my cycles seemed regular. So we decided to go for the approach that most of my friends and family were advising, namely ‘You’re trying too hard, perhaps. Don’t worry, just relax and it will happen!’ Well-meaning comments, I know, but incredibly frustrating to hear time after time. Just how do you relax when you’re trying so hard for a much-wanted child with the possibility of both fertility problems and antenatal testing ahead of you? Part of the bid to become less stressed about the whole thing involved reflexology sessions for me. I found a lovely lady who specialised in reflexology and fertility issues, and started seeing her every fornight. I can’t say that it made any difference to our fertility, but it is certainly relaxing to take some time out to have your feet massaged!

We continued trying for four more months, this time using the ‘relax and it will happen’ approach. This took us to the end of March. We had agreed that if nothing had happened by that time, then H would make an appointment to have a proper sperm test. He arranged this, and the day after we got back from our first wedding anniversary weekend away, he went for the test. Later that week, his doctor gave him the results.

April 2008
This was another terribly bleak day for us as a couple. H phoned me at work with the results, sounding buoyant and relieved. His GP had told him that there was nothing to worry about, that one of his statistics was a little low, but that it shouldn’t make too much difference to our ability to conceive. When H read the statistics to me, alarm bells rang. They sounded abnormally low to me. I confirmed the stats with the data on the World Health Organisation’s website and my fears were confirmed. When I got home that evening, I found him with his head in his hands. He had looked up the results on the web too and had found that his morphology and motility levels were classed as extremely low. The anguish we both felt was crushing. I could see that he felt immasculated and useless, and I felt like I couldn’t comfort him, no matter what I said or did. He could barely look at me for several hours. My poor, poor husband. It broke my heart to see him so devastated.

I was so angry with the world at this point. Why did the GP not advise him correctly? Why were we being thrown severe fertility issues on top of the CF mutation? We’d make great parents – why couldn’t we have our chance? Obviously, at this time, pregnancy and babies appeared absolutely everywhere. From TV adverts, to soaps, to passers-by, at work – everywhere. I found it so hard to deal with. There were people everywhere finding it seemingly easy to have one, two, three, four children, despite not really looking after their health. Why us?

After a week or so of complete dejection and anger, we tried to pull ourselves together and do something positive. I ordered some expensive fertility supplements for H and he agreed that he would cut down sharply on alcohol in a bid to see if he could improve his sperm quality. We decided to try to eat more whole foods and to cook from scratch; we didn’t eat many ready meals anyway, but we decided to cut them out altogether. We also decided that since we were going to need fertility treatment, then we should now change our plan to option 3 – have pre-implantation genetic diagnosis to try to conceive a child.

So we asked to be referred to Guy's and St Thomas hospital in London to commence PGD.

Welcome to my blog all about my experiences of PGD IVF

I'm just about to start my first cycle of pre-implantation genetic diagnosis (PGD) IVF treatment. Most people have heard of regular IVF, but not everyone has heard about PGD. In simple terms, it's a technology that helps people who carry genetic diseases and whose future children are at risk of being born with that disease, to have healthy children. i'm hoping that this blog will help me to do a bit of venting as I go through this cycle, but I also hope that it might be helpful to others who face the prospect of PGD IVF. There's little written from the patient's perspective on PGD and it can be quite isolating to be facing this treatment.

My husband and I are having PGD primarily because we both carry the genes for the disease Cystic Fibrosis. When we first started on this journey I started to write some thoughts down to help me document what was happening to us. The second of my blog entries today gives an extract from that account. It will give some background to what is quite a complicated situation. Thanks for reading.