Monday, May 29, 2017

Our Hail Mary

May 11, 2017

Our embryo transfer was today. 

At 9:45 am I was picking up Abe from work and I received a call from my doctor. He told me our embryo had split after the thaw and that it "wasn't looking too great." He wanted to give me a "heads up." In the meantime, we would see how it looked in a few hours.

My appointment was at 11:15. My favorite doctor and his fellow (the same one who got me pregnant before -- a good sign?) came in before I changed for the procedure. He sat on the bed (a bad sign, I thought -- a technique taught to doctors to build rapport or to be more personable when giving bad news). They showed us pictures and explained that sometimes embryos don't do well after thawing (we had been lucky up to this point to have all of them survive the thaw). We now had two embryos after the one split. I was hoping he would say they looked good and now we had the chance for twins, which I would gladly do again. (Also has me wondering if we could implant them at separate times and have identical twins with different ages. Weird! -- I don't know that they could re-freeze it.) However, they felt that one looked like it was degenerating and the other looked questionable. It didn't seem to be growing like they expected it would.

#1 shows the split embryos
#2 shows the questionable transferred embryo
#3 shows the non-transferred, non-viable embryo

They offered us to "cut our losses" and we could go home, or we could proceed with the transfer knowing it had a low chance of working.

We decided to try. The biggest negative was continuing with the shots. I reminded them I was an old pro and they laughed in a knowing and apologetic way. Abe said, "Well, we will give God something to work with!"

They gave us 5% odds.

I started to process the idea of a failure for the first time. When we got back in the procedure room I felt infertile. Again. I had forgotten those feelings for about 2 years. I felt bad I couldn't give Abe his big family. I felt sad that I felt like we "didn't even have a chance" this time. I felt broken. And I remembered the many times in this room full of excitement and the disappointments that followed so many times over.

I also felt more modest this time. Out of practice I guess. The procedure took less than a minute -- much easier to get the catheter that delivers the embryo in place than ever before. My uterus must have changed because they always commented before on the difficulty. My bladder wasn't as full as the other times so the five minute wait after the transfer wasn't unbearable as before.

After we quietly walked back to my room in my socks to change, we kept our tradition of going to an Indian Buffet for lunch. (I mention the socks because somehow that feels important. There is a vulnerability of being in a public building without shoes, but also a coziness and warmth of only wearing socks. Is that weird?)

I had the romantic notion of not telling anyone until I was pregnant and starting to show. After the procedure, we decided it was such a long shot we could use the prayers so we decided to tell our families. I think everyone is trying to be optimistic/hopeful/supportive so we got a lot of "exciting"-s and "congrats"-s. In the moment I felt this should be more like condolences since this was my last (perceived?) chance of growing our family but I understand their thought process.

As I have spent more time in the day I have thought of that little baby I assumed we would get. As hard as it was, I want to experience pregnancy one more time. I want to savor one more little baby and all of the precious moments that went so fast before. I want to have a normal delivery and feel the magic of meeting my baby without the fear and separation anxiety of the NICU. I want one more round, less rushed and frantic than two often was (although I understand maybe a mom of three never get that!).


I felt at peace. I felt like an answer to prayer to see and experience the immense joy and wonderful personalities I already have at home, today more than other days. Their laughs and smiles at simple silly things like the name of dinner and their sweet and purposeful kisses today as if they knew I really needed them were like messages from God.

They are miraculous. And enough. If I don't get another baby we still have a perfect family.

Abe and I are putting it in God's hands, one more time.

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