I meant to update here throughout my two week wait to keep track of what happened in the weeks leading up to what I hoped to be a very happy ending to my IF journey. I’m writing today with a very different result. Today I received confirmation from my RE that our first (ugh. ) IVF cycle has failed.
I didn’t update after my transfer so here’s a quick recap of what happened there-
On Wednesday the 20th, we went into the clinic at our scheduled 430 after a really fun morning at the Cubs game. The Cubs’ first baseman even hit 2 homeruns! That had to be a great sign right?!
As soon as I got to the clinic I started chugging my liter of water that I’d brought with me. Jon and I both go dressed in our scrubs and waited for the embryologist to come in. He brought us great news that one of our embabies was at the blastocyst stage and graded a 3bb and another was in the early blast stage. We had 4 others in the early blast stage but of the 5, there was one clear leader. At this point, he asked us whether or not we would be doing one or 2 embryo transfers.
Jon and I had to think on this one again once we were presented with how our little ones were doing. On the one hand, we’d thought about twins and were ok with the possibility- it would mean a big lifestyle change but we could handle it. We were also scared that if we transferred one that we would have to go through this again so soon and our guts were leading us towards transferring two. On the other hand, we really just wanted ONE healthy baby and given our age and health, the embryologist said we would have a 50% or greater chance of twins if we transferred two. Since multiples are more likely to be born prematurely and have an increased risk of health issues, in the end we decided to transfer just our little 3bb.
Once I had finished my water, taken my Valium and all the paperwork was signed, they brought us back into the procedure room, the whole thing took all of 6 minutes- so crazy! The team, include my RE and two other assistants and an embryologist, laid me down on the table and got me set up with the catheter right away. The team also put an ultrasound on my stomach to see the placement in my uterus. They showed us our little guy on the screen, magnified times 500!, and then zoomed back out to suck “him” up into the tube. 5,4,3,2,1! A little flash of light and our embaby was transferred! One of the assistants talked us through the whole thing which was really great and I even made a little joke about how badly I had to pee.
We left the clinic on cloud 9. The whole thing was amazing and at that very moment, I was pregnant! Since it was my birthday, we went out to dinner and I spent the next two days after that taking it easy.
Unfortunately, on Friday we found out that only one of the other embryos made it. To be honest, I was pretty shocked and it hurt more than I thought it would. Everything had gone so well up until that point that I thought, even knowing the statistics for what percentage make it, for sure we’d have multiple to freeze for when we wanted a second baby. But no. Only one. That’s when the panic and anxiety started to set in. Would I have to go through all this MULTIPLE times?
If I’m being honest, by Sunday, just 4 days post my 5 day transfer, the majority of my hope had vanished. I had been testing out my trigger (I know I know, youre not supposed to!) and based on friends’ experiences and what I’d read, it was possible to get a BFP that early. But my tests kept getting lighter… And lighter… Until they were stark white. And when youre used to seeing so many stark white BFNs and you see one more when you’re hopes and dreams have been placed right in front of you- so close you can almost touch them! Well. That spark of hope goes out. Done. Extinguished. And the pack of matches everyone has been offering you to try and bring it back is soaking wet and they wont even strike. There’s nothing you can do to bring it back.
So here I sit. 9 days post 5 day transfer. The day I’d dreamed about because I would FINALLY be pregnant after 18 months, gone. Today is not that day. I was lucky enough to be able to have Jon join me for lunch at the office today after the RE called. It was great to have my other half there with me in those moments and I truly believe this experience will bring us closer together than anything we’ve experienced previously but it sucks that this is the reason why.
We’ll be taking at least a month off from treatment to try and get healthier than ever before and to switch REs as mine is leaving the clinic. Frankly, we’re terrified to start over. What if this happens again? What if we risk everything for our frostie and we lose her too?