I’ve been crying on and off all weekend, petrified that something happened to our embryos over the last two days, torn between a single embryo transfer and a double embryo transfer, devastated at the thought of the embryos not taking and my body killing our children. Morally, ethically, and scientifically they’re alive to me. I’d have all seven of them over time, if I could. It’s not up to me, though. Whether or not the transfer takes is entirely out of my control. I can eat healthier and drink more water and cut the caffeine. I can pray exhaustively, until I’m in tears. That’s… pretty much it. Whatever will be, will be, and I have it on good authority that these things rarely happen on the first try.
Also, if my husband tells me one more time that I shouldn’t stress out, because it’s really bad when trying to breed cattle, I’m going to punch him in his useless testicles.
It’s over. The process was… quick, to say the least. I thought I’d get the chance to sit down with my doctor and discuss our embryos, but I didn’t see him until I was naked from the waist down. It turns out, only two of the seven made it to Day 5 blastocysts, one in excellent condition and the other in good condition. Since we thought we’d have some to freeze, we’d already decided on transferring two, and since Jake was in the car, we didn’t get the opportunity to reevaluate together. My knee jerk reaction was to go with what we’d already agreed upon. Going through all of this without Jake is so awful, every step of the way.
The procedure itself was awkward and painful. Women talk about how it was enjoyable, but my ovaries were so swollen, I found it to be anything but, especially with five people looking at my vagina. I tried to show Jake the ultrasound on video call, but he couldn’t really make anything out. For that matter, I could only tell that the little white dots were embryos when the nurse pointed them out to me. They gave me photos of the embryos, but I immediately asked them to put them in an envelope, since I don’t want to look at them unless I know if they’ve survived to pregnancy. Everything felt rushed and uncomfortable and then… it was over. I’ll either be pregnant or I won’t and there’s nothing I can do about it, other than to plan financially for a second cycle. I’ve agreed to do another, if Jake can fund it. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him and it’s not like I have an abundance of choices. Now, we wait.