What in the world is this feeling?
This feeling of--'hey, everything didn't go to crap'.
Yes yes yes, I know that we're not celebrating an actual pregnancy, an actual implantation of an embryo. I know--full well--that we're still not even at the starting line and that when looking ahead at our lane, we have more hurdles than most.
But usually--at this point--some type of devastation has ensued.
IVF #1: Oh how naive and stupid I was! I really thought all you had to do was IVF and you'd be pregnant. I resented doing IVF but I still embraced it. At ER we had 11 eggs. When my RE called to tell me that only 6 were mature I was disappointed; but 5 fertilized. When we went to transfer and we only had two that were even on-target we figured: oh well, none to freeze but what can you do? We've got two! We'll probably get twins.
OK, so I lied--there was no early devastation, IVF #1 was more or less about blindly stumbling along, not really undertanding the process, and just believing that--above all else--it would work. The devastation only came at the end with the BFN.
IVF #2: 15 eggs retrieved. We danced around the house, guessing how many embryos we'd have (we both guessed 10!) and couldn't wait to get that fert report. That's when devastation ensued: only 6 were mature again, and 4 fertilized. We again had two that were transfer worthy. BFN. Rinse, lather, repeat.
IVF #3: We were grizzled and weathered, but still, expecting it to f'ing work. Nine eggs retrieved. Devastation number one--including hideous sobbing in the recovery room because they had been counting on at least 14 and I knew--finally--that for us it was such a numbers game. The embryologist called me at home later to say that 8 of the 9 were mature so we suddenly felt 'back in the game'--but it was short-lived. The next day's call the nurse said: "Only one fertilized...but believe me, some women would be happy with that." I kid you not. Maybe some women would be happy, but we were most decidedly not happy. I swore I was through with IVF, I was through with REs, I was through. Amazingly there was a little 6 cell not-great embryo to transfer. Something felt eerily familiar.
IVF #4: Our first with CC.R.M. I've got a little confession to make: we had dusted ourselves off and knew this was the place. It was going to work. It had to. They were the mecca and we were paying mightily for their services. 20 eggs were retrieved! No devastation--instead that ill-fated Target trip where we lovingly fingered baby clothes! The doctor telling us to be ready for a day 5 transfer with leftovers to freeze! My oh my was that a fun 24 hours! The fert report: 12 mature, 2 fertilized. More hideous sobbing in public. Truly, devastation. One good embryo plus one more thrown in the mix were transferred.
So yesterday morning, when I woke up and came out of the sleep-induced fog, I waited. Waited for the flood of the horrible freeze-report to wash over me and remind me that we really don't have a chance in hell for a biological child.
But it didn't.
For once it didn't.
And while I didn't get up and do any dances around the house--maybe if we'd had eight 8-celled grade 4 embryos?--I did allow myself to smile.
And at least--for now--until we get to transfer and see these little guys all the way through to the end--I feel some peace.
So Mr. LastChance and I decided to ride this wave all the way to the shore, because why not?
PS. The blizzard was divine. As expected. I also baked a dozen chocolate croissants yesterday. But honestly--I think I'm going back to the no sugar me pretty soon...
Again, let me say: what in the world??
2 years ago