So I'm pregnant. Hahahaha! Well, pregnant until proven otherwise. This is my mindset. It's going to help get me through the grueling 2WW. I remember that after my transfer with Noah, I would pound the mantra "This will work" into my own head everyday, and I truly believe that optimism and positivity helped that lone embryo to sick. But let me go back...
Last week it seemed like things were coming a long. There were a lot of follicles, and I hoped that would equal a lot of mature eggs. I got the call on Thursday that egg retrieval (ER) would be that Saturday the 19th at 9am. We went to the FCI River North office Saturday morning, and like riding a bike, I was calm about the process and the procedure, but what raced through my mind was "this is it". I knew that this could potentially be my last chance at having a baby of my own.
If you've never had to feel the ache of infertility, you are more fortunate than you know. There is something to be said about the natural desire to have ones own child. A child that is like me, looks like me, looks like Noah. I stared at the ceiling thinking about all the possibilities. What if there are no eggs? What if we get some to freeze? What if there's only a few? What if I don't get pregnant?
The ER went smoothly, as always. It's a pretty simple easy procedure. It's done under general anesthesia and takes no more than 15 minutes. They basically aspirate the eggs from the ovaries by inserting a needle vaginally, going through the vaginal wall and extracting the eggs directly from the follicles. It's really pretty incredible if you think about it.
During the retrival, they collected six eggs and drained a cyst. Not going to lie, I was disappointed. Six was not the number I'd hoped for.
The next day, I got a phone call with the fertilization report. Of the six eggs, only three were mature. They were all fertilized with ICSI (intracytoplasmic semen injection - basically they pick the best sperm and inject it directly into the egg), and all were growing well. They were growing, but again, I was disappointed. Three embryos meant this would be my final transfer. All I could was hope they all made it to transfer...
The next day, I got the call that we were scheduled for a day 3 embryo transfer (ET) the next day, Tuesday the 22nd. I asked how the embryos were growing, and she said they were all growing well.
Tuesday we went back to the FCI River North office, and blasted Chicago rush hour, we were a half hour late. Fortunately, they always tell you to be there an hour before your procedure is scheduled, so it wasn't a huge deal. And again, old hat. Been there, done that, but again, the nervous, staring at the ceiling thoughts came back.... I couldn't help but think about the possibilities.
The embryologist (who I think has an amazing job, by the way) came in and discussed our embryos. She told us they were all 8-cell (which is ideal for a day 3 ET) and looked great. For the embryologist to tell us they looked great meant a huge deal to me. She knows what she's talking about, and while maybe she says that to everyone (I doubt it), it was what I needed to hear.
Dr. Uhler did my ET this time. It's a really incredible thing to see, but even cooler was that now FCI lets you see your embryos before transfer! The embryologist put the petri dish until the microscope and there were my embryos on the computer screen. Oh how I wish I had a picture of that image! It's so surreal! That was Noah once upon a time. That was all of us really, and while an 8-cell embryo does not to me equal human child, it represents the start of something incredible. I think that was the icing on the cake. That's the picture in my mind that I'm holding onto, hoping for the best outcome.
We transferred all three beauties, and later, Ben and I discussed the possibility of twins or triplets. Or sextuplets if they all were to split, god help us. But really, we'll handle whatever we get, just as long as it means bringing home a baby.
So cross your fingers and toes, and hold your breathe! Here goes nothing!