A year ago today, I woke up and cuddled with Q. for a while. I probably showered. I know I ate breakfast. And then I headed downtown to the clinic to draw blood to confirm that our IVF cycle had failed, and that I was not pregnant. Again.
It was a Saturday. On Tuesday I’d used the first of my dollar store pregnancy tests. It was negative. I hadn’t told Q. I was testing, and I kept the results to myself. On Thursday I tested again. Still negative. We’d been told to come into the clinic 10-12 days after the transfer for the beta. Thursday was 10 days. We decided we’d wait until Saturday to get the final word. I remember apologizing to Q. on Thursday, huddled up next to him, despondent that my body had failed us and our two perfect little blastocysts. Again.
Friday we got sushi (vegetarian). I carried a whole bunch of groceries home. I may have even eaten runny cheese. I did keep taking all my medications (and my goodness were there ever a lot of them), including the PIO shots that Q. had to give me, and the fragmin shots that covered my stomach in bruises. I swallowed all my pills.
I don’t have any memory of the actual trip to the clinic, or the blood draw. It blurs in my mind with all the other trips, all the other blood draws from the previous cycles. I do remember wondering what to do next. We had two frozen blastocysts, and I knew that we’d have to attempt a FET or two at some point, but I was worn out. I’d been ready to quit before that IVF cycle. I went through it for Q. I never had much hope.
I don’t really remember what we were doing that Saturday. Probably reading the paper after having been to our farmer’s market- that was our usual pattern. Q. was probably working, as he was upstairs in his study when the phone rang. We didn’t have a functioning phone on the main level of the house at that point, and I was downstairs, so I told him to answer it, even though I think we both knew it was the clinic. Calling to confirm what we already knew.
I could only hear Q.’s end of the conversation, but I will never, never forget how it went:
Q.: “Hello?…Yes, this is he…What?…It’s positive?…But we tested and it was negative!”
At that point I ran up the stairs and bodily grabbed the phone from Q. I made the nurse, one of my favourites, tell me the news. I made her tell me the beta number. It was 232. “That’s a good number, isn’t it?” I managed to choke out, between my tears. She assured me that it was, and told me to come back in two days to test it again. I hung up the phone, and sat in the chair in Q.’s study in shock. Q. sat in his computer chair and looked at me. We were speechless for a while, and then I started to cry.
A year ago today I found out that I was pregnant. Pregnant with the embryo who was going to become our E. And even though I then spent much of the pregnancy worried sick that something would go wrong, I will never ever forget how I felt in that first moment of mad disbelief that finally, finally it had worked.
And now I look at my gorgeous, growing son, and I can’t imagine our lives without him.