in finem

My sincerest apologies for the delay folks.  Things have been... well... I'll explain.

I last updated after the retrieval.  Full of hope, I hung out and waited for the pain to subside.  12 beautiful eggies!  That's what I had and that was enough.  One hopes for around 20 or so but 12 was what I had and I wouldn't have had that much if my right ovary hadn't decided to do some work for a change, so I was happy.  The doctor said they'd call me the next day with a report, so I was quite pleased when the embryologist called me the same evening with an update.  While waiting after the retrieval, the RE let me know that they would be using standard fertilization on all the eggs.  This didn't please me as I had just heard a friend go through the same thing only to find that standard fertilization seemed to be a problem.  In some cases, the sperm cannot penetrate the egg sheath and I didn't want to chance it.  So, when the embryologist came in to discuss my eggs, I relayed this concern and she agreed.  She also took it a step further, as I had requested ICSI on at least half, she did the procedure on all of them.  The report was decent.  Of the 12 we had, 10 were mature.  Hey... ten's a nice, round number, right?  Well, of those ten, four apparently "didn't like being poked" and "went dark" right after fertilization.  Disappointing but still... I had six left!  Plenty!  Six beautiful embryos!

The following day, I received another call.  Unfortunately, we lost two more embies that day.  They just didn't cleave.  Well, these things happen.  I'm not going to say I wasn't considerably disappointed.  However, I think I did a fantastic job of thinking on the bright side.  I still had four left!  Four beautiful embryos!

Then they mentioned a day 3 transfer.  This was everything I was trying to avoid.  Only three days of development?  How would they implant?  How would they be able to tell which were the best to use?  Oh well, no arguing here.  Transfer day had arrived and luckily I felt better day of and I was as excited as I could possibly be.  I would be carrier for our embabies today and I would be as close to pregnant as I had ever been.

The transfer was similar to an IUI but with a few, annoying differences.  First, we were still in the lab so the booties and hot, hot, blue hair hat went back on.  You have to have a "comfortably full" bladder.  It also took longer... and hurt more.  There was something very "pinchy" about the speculum they used and they use a larger catheter so they can insert it into the right position and slide the catheter with the embies inside it so they're jostled as little as possible.  Before we got started, the doc went over the state of our four remaining embies.  All were grade B.  There were two six celled embies and two had progressed to 8 cells.  Obviously, the latter were the two that were transferred.  I didn't get pictures of my embies but I did get to see them floating out of the catheter and into my waiting uterus.  It was really, really amazing.  Adam was allowed in the room to witness all this as well, which I was very happy for.  Then, giddy as a goddamned school girl, I was wheeled back into the prep room to hang out for 45 minutes.  Adam was also quite excited.  At one point, he even came over and put his ear to my uterus.  It took everything I had not to start crying.

Now... with that... before you think I'm a big gushy pussy, lets put this into perspective a bit.  I'd never experienced morning sickness... never had sore boobs... never had a weird, metallic taste in my mouth and never had odd smelling pee (which is apparently a sign or something).  I've never had a positive pregnancy test... and I've taken over a hundred (give or take 10).  I have seen two lines once... but only just after my trigger.  So... I'd never been able to have my husband lovingly put his head to my belly and listen.  I'd never placed my hand over my womb and waited for a kick.  I'd never been pregnant at that point.  So this was a big fucking deal.  I put my hands over them, I sang to them, I read aloud to them.  I loved them.  I waited for them to grow strong and implant and I planned their lives.

The transfer was Saturday.  The remaining two embies were left in the incubator to reach blastocyst stage and prepare for freezing.  They never divided again.  They were still only six cells on Monday, two days after we found out they were six celled to begin with.  This was quite a blow.  I had no back-up plan.  Adam and I had already decided to only try a fresh cycle once and this meant we were working on our only shot.  That was a tough pill to swallow but it didn't hit me as hard as I had anticipated.  I thought I'd be devastated.  I think I had enough optimism left to move past the thought of needing them.  That, and part of me was a little relieved that good or bad, it would be over soon.

Then, the two week wait.  I dreamed, and googled, and planned.  Many times, I could be heard saying something that started with "when the babies get here".  I finally signed up for that Babies-R-Us registry and settled on a crib.  I went to JoAnne's to pick out material for baby stuff and figured out how I planned to fix the nursery.  Somewhere in there, I added up the days to test and found that it fell on Mother's day.  This scared the shit out of me.  I didn't want Mother's Day to be ruined forever... but I couldn't think that way.  10DPO fell that Saturday, so I could test then... but that seemed too early.  12DPO (Monday) seemed too late.  By the time the weekend came, Sunday just made sense.  If it was negative, it would be ruined forever anyway so I didn't see that it mattered.  Saturday night, however, I got scared enough to take a friend's advice and test Monday after work.  I went to sleep resolved to not pee on or in anything not permanently plumbed to the house.  But, in true "fuck me" fashion, my body had it's own plans.

I woke up around 5:00 AM in horrible pain.  I imagined that this was what labor must feel like as I struggled not to scream.  My mouth gaped but made no sound.  I didn't want to wake Adam.  I went to the bathroom and used it, not even thinking about testing.  I wiped to find bright red blood and a clot.  I think I may have cried in the bathroom for ten minutes or so before getting my shit together and going back to bed.  I woke back up at ten and tested.  Negative, as I assumed.  I cramped and spotted throughout the day and I knew, on Mother's Day, that I would never, ever have a child.

I didn't tell anyone but Adam as I didn't test with first morning urine and didn't want to have people ask me if I was positive without being so.  My mom ended up texting me that afternoon and I told her it didn't work, and that I didn't want to talk about it.  She gave the rest of the fam a head's up and for the most part, it was quiet.  Adam kept me distracted.  We played MineCraft all day and I resisted a break-down.  I tested again Monday morning.  It was official.

I still haven't really broken down yet.  Like can't stop crying, tears enough to flood a village, break down.  I know it's coming though.