Today was a weird day. I didn’t sleep well- I got hit with some news late last night I wasn’t expecting, which led to a huge emotional meltdown (think me sitting on the couch wailing: “I’m a GOOD mum! I just want to be a mum again! Everyone else is getting pregnant!” while Q. gave me a cuddle and quietly thought about how much he prefers his wife when she’s not on a billion medications), which led to me waking up at 5 a.m. this morning and not being able to go back to sleep.
I decided to not even try to get any serious work done this morning, so after I dropped E. off at nursery school (the drop offs are just getting better and better), I made my way very slowly down to the clinic running a bunch of errands and walking the entire time. It was a crisp, clear fall day, and I was in good spirits, and walking just felt like the right thing to do.
On the way down I chanted, over and over, under my breath: “This embryo is OUR baby.” I repeated it right up until it was transfer time. I decided this morning to go whole hog with believing this transfer will work. It’s going to be a mindfuck of crushing disappointment if it doesn’t, irrespective of whether or not I’ve tried to protect my own feelings. And if my doctor is worried that something in my body is interfering with the embryo’s best chances for implantation, I feel I owe it to this embryo to be as all embracingly positive as I possibly can be. All morning I chanted my mantra and did belly breathing if I started to tense up.
For the first time, when I got to the clinic there wasn’t a free cubicle. They were having a really busy day, so I had to sit out in the little waiting area for about twenty minutes or so before they found me a space. Once I was all set up, I sat in the chair and did some teaching prep. It was weird to be there by myself. My favourite nurse was on duty, as well as the old head nurse (who is supposed to be retired but seems to be in there every time I am), and they both know me well. I signed my instructions, confirmed I had all my medications (“You’re on practically everything!” said the nurse), and then waited.
Surprisingly, despite the really hectic day, they called my name at 1 p.m., only an hour after the scheduled time. I walked into the room, and that’s where all of my composure started to fade and my positive thoughts started to falter. It was harder than I had anticipated to be in there by myself, and I started to get a bit emotional knowing this was our last embryo. So much riding on one little ball of cells.
The head nurse and the u/s tech (both of whom also know me very well) weren’t happy about this at all, and convinced me to take an Ativan. “Honey,” said the u/s tech, “I hate having patients cry when I do the ultrasound, because crying contracts the uterus. It’s not what we want to see.” So I obligingly took the Ativan, and sure enough was a bit spacier (but much more relaxed) shortly thereafter, and then we all sat around for a bit longer to wait for my doctor to turn up.
He was having a chaotic day too. He had a med student shadowing him who didn’t inspire confidence- he kept getting in the way and shining the light in the wrong direction. My doctor had to send a text message before starting the procedure, and then his phone rang partway through and he had to get the ultrasound tech to answer it for him and take a message. Then he forgot to get me to sign the consents until after the transfer was complete.
But the important bit, the bit that mattered, was the blastocyst survived the thaw and it looked ‘good’ according to both him and my u/s tech, and the transfer to my uterus went smoothly.
I headed home soon after that, and told the embryo all about its first subway ride and its first ride on the streetcar, and then we counted the pumpkins we could see on our street. I mean, if I’m going to go crazy about this whole process, it might as well be crazy for a purpose, no?
Beta is November 4th- only 12 days to wait this time. I’ll test the morning of to make sure I don’t get blindsided like last time. And until then I’m going to do nothing but talk to the embryo, because, as I proved much to my chagrin last cycle, how I’m feeling on any given day really has nothing to do with whether or not the cycle has worked.
But still. For today, I am pregnant until proven otherwise. And if I can will that embryo into sticking, I am damn well going to try.