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It started off well. A early walk on the treadmill with my buddy, Teasha. Restorative yoga and meditation. Breakfast, coffee and hugs from my boys. Just as I had pictured my “perfect morning” of the transfer. The one thing that would have made it more spectacular is if little blue birds greeted me outside my window, chirping sweetly and holding little ribbon banners that said, “Kara, today is your today!” Ah, perfection.
Then, it was like the movies, when the nice girl suddenly reveals her most wicked side and the defining moment occurs when her eyes turn a glowing shade of red. I am pretty sure that was what happened to me.
Things had to be arranged, emails had to be sent, Oscar was not cooperating. Suddenly, the calm demeanor I thought I had invited in and owned as a new personality trait was ripping to shreds. I felt myself unraveling and the timing could not be less perfect.
I decided to get out. I thought I would take Oscar and his bestest bud, Ivan, to an indoor play park. It appeared that Oscar needed to burn off some steam and I always love being with these boys (especially hearing their conversations in the car). Besides, Greg was working from home and I wanted to keep it as peaceful for him as possible.
Not minutes into finding a table and getting settled, the boys ran up to me, fighting. Neither could agree on how they wanted to play in this awesome play structure. Suddenly, they didn’t want to play there anymore. WHAT?! I grabbed them both, told them they are going to sit with me for the next hour and they each owed me the $8 that I paid for each of them. Yes, I WAS “that mother.” Ivan nervously laughed and said I was joking. Oscar looked at him and very seriously said, “No, Ivan, she is not joking.” Apparently, Oscar could see that my eyes were glowing that unnatural shade of red.
Things eventually started to look up. The boys played, we returned home, had lunch, Oscar and I took some time to read books and then it was time for Greg and I to leave for the hospital. Before I forget, which I have already failed to mention thus far, I did not get a phone call telling me how many embryos would be transferred. I called my doctor’s office and the nurse explained that they would tell me right before the transfer. Apparently, I had misunderstood.
So, here we are, in the car, on the way to meet our embryo (s). Talk about a weird and surreal moment. Everything else was normal, except that Greg and I had a few minutes of alone time in the car without our boy. It was strange and kind of hard to wrap my brain around the fact that this was the moment we had been working towards. How slow and fast time seems to go.
Upon arrival to the clinic, I had my acupuncture to help relax me more. I also had a full bladder (to assist in the ultrasound and placement of the embryo), so in some ways the full bladder seemed counterintuative to the acupuncture. Regardless, I was feeling pretty good. Then came the moment to find out how many embryos had continued to grow.
Now remember, on Friday, I found out that we had 10 embryos, but that many stop growing after day 3. On this day, we found out 3 had continue to grow. On top of that, we were being told that we could implant all 3!! As crazy as it sounds, we were excited! One of the embryos seemed to be growing at a slower rate, so the likely hood of it surviving is small. The other option would be to let it grow one more day then freeze it. Our minds felt a little boggled, but I could tell that Greg and I were ready to take this on. The energy was good. Then, the doctor came in.
What Greg and I were not told, and was explained by our doctor, is that all three of our embryos did not grow at the rate that they would generally like to see. They are slightly underdeveloped and that only one is showing the initial cells that form a baby. After I prodded and asked, we learned that our success rate had now dropped. Now, we were more like 40% versus the 60% we had earlier believed was on our side.
Devastated is not even a strong enough word. It felt like all those positive thoughts that I had worked so hard on were seeping from my body, like air out of a balloon. I looked over at Greg, and I could tell, he felt the same way.
I cried. I cried hard and held on tight to my “lucky charms” that I had brought with me. But I had to pull myself together quickly, because I was being rolled into the Transfer. Overall, the procedure went well and the doctor said my uterus looked great. While everything was going on, there was a monitor with a large photo of my embryos. "Nice to meet you,“ I thought. "I hope you stay awhile.”
I am trying to work this all out in my head and in my heart. I keep reliving the doctor’s explanation and demeanor. Once again, I read into things more than the normal person. To me, his words were filled with hopelessness. To Greg, he felt the doctor was just not comfortable with relating to us and tried to stay as neutral as possible, trying only to give us the facts. It wasn’t until after the transfer that the doctor did say he has seen couples get pregnant under similar circumstances. Yet, why is it, I don’t keep reliving THAT moment?
One of the most simple and poignant comments made to me occurred after the transfer. I had to lay there for 45 minutes and our acupuncturist came in. She asked how I was doing and I slowly filled her in as tears ran down my face. She turned to me and said, “Those embryos have been living in a petri dish for 5 days, now, they are where they need to be.” I had been so wrapped up in all the other things, I had never even thought about it that way.
So it is Wednesday and I am on bed rest. Looking lovely with matted hair, rings under my eyes and a remote control in my hand. I took some time this morning, in the dark, to meditate. I visualized my uterus. I imagined it looked like the inside of a cozy, little cabin. You know, the kind of cabin that is buried deep in the snowy woods. The only light radiantly glowing is coming from the fire in the fireplace. Each of our embryos are curled up in their own soft, cushy chair, blankets wrapped around them and reading a good book. Content, happy and just waiting.
By the way, the picture above was taken right before we left for the transfer. We have really sheltered Oscar from everything, but he did know that I was going to the doctor. Despite his earlier behavior, at this moment, he reached up and hugged me and told me he was going to give me the biggest, longest hug ever. Now THAT WAS perfect timing.
*Thank you for the delicious dinner last night, Teasha. Greg has been so busy with work, taking care of the house and me, I know we were both so thankful for it.
**Thank you all for your kinds thoughts and prayers and for those of you who texted and called after the Transfer. You all made me cry. Oh, and Mandi, you made me smile when you reminded me that 40% each for 3 is actually 120% :)