Embryo Transfer Day: Hope & Heartbreak.

Tuesday, July 15th- Embryo Transfer Day.  We woke up happy, positive, relaxed, and had delicious cinnamon rolls for breakfast.  All smiles.  It's a weird mix of emotions when you're trying to create a pregnancy, as opposed to one happening naturally.  Everything you do is building up to that moment.  You have that exact moment of creation scheduled in as an appointment on your calendar.  You think- this could be the last time I cook breakfast unpregnant.  This could be the last time I do my makeup unpregnant.  We were in such a good mood on the way to the doctor's office, much more excited than nervous.

We got there about 20 minutes early, and they went ahead and called us back.  Because I'm still sore, swollen, and bloated, Dr. Saleh performed a sonogram on me first to check my ovaries for Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome.  This is where the ovaries continue to over produce (even though you've already done the egg retrieval and stopped the stimulation medications) and this can cause severe pain, swelling, bloating, and the need for a surgery to drain the ovaries and abdomen.  The sonogram showed that my ovaries are still producing many eggs and are slightly enlarged, but at this moment, not a major cause for concern.  He informed us to pay close attention over the next couple of weeks, and contact them if the bloating and swelling and soreness doesn't stop.  So now, instead of praying for my ovaries to produce lots of eggs, we've completely changed directions and we're now praying for them to stop producing eggs.

Next, I change into the hospital gown and crawl onto the bed to wait.  The lab technician comes out and she's got two little pictures in her hand of two "beautiful" embryos.  These are the two embryos we'll be implanting.  Then, her expression saddens.  And here comes the heartbreak...  

No other embryos grew strong enough to make it to freezing quality.  This is all we have.  These two are our only chance.  

The rest of the group of 6 never made it to day 5.  Our feelings immediately change from hope to heartbreak.  Without any embryos to freeze, if this doesn't work, we'll have to pay another $13,000 and go through the WHOLE process all over again.  At this point, my body is weak, my ovaries are swollen and constantly in pain, I'm exhausted, and we've exhausted our IVF fund that we saved up for years.  My heart is broken.  I should be hopeful and positive and happy and not stressed, but my heart is broken.  If this doesn't work, we financially and possibly physically can't go through this again for another couple of years or even have enough money to be able to adopt.  This could very well be our one and only chance at becoming parents.  It's a very humbling, weakening, sickening wave of emotions when you're told this.  We thought, if this doesn't work the first time, we'll have a few more tries with the frozen ones.  Not a big deal.  But now, we no longer have that option to fall back on.  We're on the edge, and we're jumping in, all or nothing.  And that's it.

After this horrible news, they bring us back into the little operating room, and Dr. Saleh runs a small catheter to my uterus.  He tells me to relax.  I WAS relaxed.  Now I just want to cry over the loss of all my little embryos we have worked so incredibly hard to make.  Within a few minutes, he shows us the little white dot in the center of the ultrasound.  "That's your two beautiful embryos."  Implanted in my uterus.  And within about 5 minutes, it was done.

They slid me over onto a bed and rolled me into a little room to lay still with my knees bent for the next 20 minutes.  This was the longest 20 minutes of my life.  I want to be excited and happy and positive- everything I thought we would be at this moment.  But I'm devastated that this is our only shot.  Justin doesn't say anything (which is extremely rare for Justin), and I know he's devastated too.  He's trying to be strong and positive for me, but inside, I know we both wanted to break down and cry.  So I just laid there.  With my hand over my face, my knees bent, my eyes squeezed shut so no tears could fall out, and... this is silly, and I have no idea why this is the song that popped in my head at this very moment... but I laid there and in my mind, went through the entire song of O' Victory in Jesus.  It was all I could do to keep from falling apart when I'm supposed to be so stress-free and happy.  Finally, the nurse came back and told me I could use the restroom and get dressed and we were free to go.  Now, we go home and wait for two weeks.  By the time we reached the parking garage at the hospital, I couldn't hold it in any longer.  The tears started flowing like a faucet.  And poor Justin tried his hardest to get them to stop.  Until I snapped at him, then he joined me in the waterworks for a few minutes.  Then we dried our eyes, put on our damaged smiles, and tried to put positive vibes back into our atmosphere. 

  

We made it home, and I was ordered to bed rest for the rest of that day and the next.  Today, I am trying so incredibly hard to be happy and hopeful and positive, but my heart aches.  I'm trying so hard to root for these two beautifully strong embryos I'm carrying, but my heart is mourning over the loss of the others.  Today, I am praying for strength and patience and understanding, because I don't feel I have much of any of that left.  My school work is currently suffering, my job could possibly be in jeopardy from the amount of time I've missed (even though I'm not behind and have plenty of sick time), my husband is exhausted because, bless his heart, he's been the one carrying me through all of this for the past month, while taking care of everything around the house, and working his regular 50-60 hours a week at work.  My faith feels shaken, and I hate that.  I know my God has a plan for me.  I know His plans are far greater than any we could ever make for ourselves.  But right now, my hope and faith are running on fumes, and I'm exhausted.  And we won't know if these little embryos turn into little babies until the end of this month.