Since I last updated. I guess I haven’t been quite sure what to write? So I’ll keep it simple, because in so many ways, it is.
In January of this year, we underwent our 2nd retrieval and 3rd round of IVF. We were hopeful for what the future held when 17 eggs were retrieved and 9 were mature. While not super duper numbers, it was an improvement on the previous retrieval and you can imagine how thrilled we were when we also received an update that 7 were growing nicely.
The side effects this time around were pretty horrible, especially with doing PIO every day instead of every other, but we were so excited as we went into our third transfer. We planned on transferring two embryos to ensure the best possible chance of pregnancy.
I remember so clearly the embryologist coming into the room on February 11th and telling us that we had “two early blasts” to transfer that day and that they would be checking on the others the next day to see if they progressed. If you’ve been through multiple transfers and done your research on IVF, you know that the words “early blasts” at a 5 day transfer can make your heart sink. At this point, your embryos should be developed enough to have a grade to give them the best possible shot. But unfortunately, that was not to be the case with ours. So, with heavy hearts, we put on our best positive pants and transferred two “early blasts.”
The next day, we received the call that told us none of the others had survived and that the two currently resting in my belly were our only shot before I’d have to undergo another retrieval. I spent the entire night crying at the possibility and exhausted with this whole process. I think it was at this point, as awful as it is to say, that both Jon and I detached from the situation and began just going through the motions.
10 days later, despite every symptom in the book (likely from the PIO), our RE called us to let us know that the beta was negative and that I could stop all medication.
So here I sit, a little over a month afterwards, not really sure where we’ll go next. We haven’t had our “next steps” consult, I think because we’re both scared of what the doctors are going to say. We’ll be seeking a second and possibly third opinion from different clinics to decide whether or not we’ll be pursuing further treatment or moving on and in the meantime, taking a break to enjoy each other and the life that has been so consumed by infertility in the past two years. I write that the recap of this post is simple because, in spite of the pain and grief that has now left an impression on us both, it’s like it never happened…