Chapter 26: Transfer

I wish I could accurately pen down everything there is to pen down. I have a five post series coming up and this is post #1 of that. It's all that has happened since we did our transfer. There is light and sun, and then there is deafening silence. I went back and forth way too many times trying to decide whether I wanted to keep going with my story format and share my story as we experienced it, or to do a dump and just lay everything out. I believe though, that by continuing with the story-telling format, I will give space to each part of the process that we went through. It may take some time to get out, but I think I'm finally in a place where I can revisit those moments without shutting down. Or at least, I'm going to give it a try.

. . . .

When we left off, I was going to bed the night before my scheduled day 6 transfer. I remember being so freaking relieved that it was going to be a female physician working the next day. Of course I didn't sleep well. I think all of you here know by now that I never sleep well at night, and a day before an appointment is always worse. I didn't sleep well but I did wake up ready. The male doctor had said that one embryo was growing well and one was lagging a bit behind. So we were hopeful that we would have at least one good blastocyst to transfer. Fingers crossed. I took my time getting ready that morning. There was no more uncomfortable wobbling, no more sensitivity to the touch around my abdomen if I accidentally bumped into something. I was ready and my body was ready to put our little embryo back where it needed to go in order to grow into a healthy baby.

On the way to clinic, my doctor called me to give us an update on how the embryos were looking. It was 8:45 AM at this point and my transfer was scheduled for 9 AM. We were so zen that morning that I didn't even realize we were running late until I got there and they rushed me in. But I'm getting ahead of myself. On the call, we got the news that we had one BB grade embryo ready for transfer. She said that although it was not an A grade embryo, it still looked beautiful and had split into blast stage perfectly. I asked her about the other one then, the one that I was told was lagging behind. She hesitated for half a second before telling me that it was still not a blast yet, and they would watch it for one more day. Seven days total. I felt my heart drop a bit but was not about to get too down in the dumps; we had one great embryo to transfer today! One lucky little fighter. Right before she hung up, she said, "You're probably waiting to be called back any minute now, so I'm going to let you go. But congratulations and good luck!" I should have put two and two together at that point and should have realized that we were late, but I did not. I was too excited and antsy with nerves to worry about timing right then. My husband gripped my hand tighter and kissed my knuckles, willing me to calm down. I could tell that he was squirmy too. I'm honestly not sure how he's been able to manage this far. He's been on the outside of all of this. Either in the car, or at work, or at home, but he's always been just right there. I so wish I could give him more.

At exactly 9 AM, I got a call from the clinic just as we were pulling up to the front doors. "Ma'am, you have a transfer scheduled for this morning at 9 AM and we were wondering where you were?" Oh shit. That's when it hit me. I panicked and turned to my husband and frazzedly let out a gruntled, 'We're LATE," and flew out the doors. I don't even remember if I waited to give him a hug goodbye. As soon as I got up to the fifth floor, they ushered me in, took my temperature in the waiting room, had me sign my consent forms in the halls as I slipped booties on to my feet, and almost flung me into a room. "Your transfer was scheduled for 9 AM." It was five past 9 at this point. "Is your bladder full?" I wiggled around on the edge of the bed for second, trying to figure out if I needed to pee. I had drank almost 40 ounces of water in the car on the way to the clinic. "I think so, but I'm not 100% sure." The two nurses gave each other a sideways glance and then looked at the clock. "We're going to have you drink a few cups of water, and we'll be right back in here with you to get started." Seeing as I was the one that accidentally got late, I was not upset at the hold up. They had a 9:15 retrieval scheduled so the doctor went and did that first. There's no way the retrieval could be late; we all knew that. One of the nurses stayed with me to refill my water cup. I had 6 cups or so before they finally told me it was time. It was almost 9:45 by then. I laid myself down carefully on the bed and went through the normal routine: slide on down, feet in the stirrups, behind at the edge, and relax.

The doctor who was doing my transfer was an older woman, probably in her 60's. I think she was annoyed that I had been late and they had to rearrange their schedule because of me. I felt really bad, but she didn't say anything, so I didn't either. I was anticipating the transfer to feel much like the mock embryo transfer that I had at that start of the IVF process. That hadn't hurt a bit, but was just a tad uncomfortable. I was hoping for the same. But you know, we don't always get what we hope for. It was extremely uncomfortable and they needed to switch something out for a different size at one point. But after much wiggling and shuffling around, I finally heard the doc tightening the speculum so that it would stay in place. As I started reciting my prayers in my head and asking for ease, the embryologist came out to verbally confirm all of the information. We verified that we would be transferring only one embryo. The speculum was already up where it needed to be and the catheter had been threaded through. It took less than two minutes after that, maybe. I watched on the screen as the doctor slowly put the tiny little fighter where it needed to go. She commented excitedly, "Oh look, it's started to hatch!" I didn't know what that meant but I was hoping it was good news. I saw the tiniest flicker of something, like a bright white star on a clear night, settle itself into my womb. I felt on top of the moon. At this very moment, I was actually pregnant. Pregnant. I had no idea what that meant.

The nurses had me relax for a minute or two and said that I could get up and get dressed when I was ready. I've only been wearing maxi dresses to these appointments for that very reason; no reason to undress and get dressed. I sat up and pulled my dress down from around my hips, letting it drop to my ankles. The nurse helped me to my feet and left the room, giving me some privacy to get a hold of my belongings. I didn't know what to feel. I walked slower, calmer, more careful of my every move. I didn't want to jostle anything around. Was that possible? Who knew.

As I walked out and down to the elevators, I texted my husband to let him know I was on my way out. He met me at the elevator doors and enveloped me into a hug. Surreal. The beginnings of our child was there, inside of me right now, finding its way. I still can't wrap my head around it. It didn't take long for me to come back to my senses. My students were about to log on for class. We had a Language Arts live session to do which would last 45 minutes. I conducted class from my phone while they were on video and instructed them on what to do. We stopped at McD's to get the honorary IVF post-transfer french fries. I wonder if the CEO of McDonald's even knows that the IVF community has a whole tradition. Once we got home, I switched from my phone to my laptop to continue working, and settled in to the couch. Rest and keep my feet up: those were the doctor's orders. I intended to do just that.

. . . .

Later that evening as I settled into bed, the thought of the hatching embryo came back to me. I wondered what she meant. I opened up the image that the clinic had sent me of what my embryo looked like. I snuggled up to my husband, holding my phone up to him to see. He stared in awe at that little bundle of cells. He held me closer and kissed the top of my head. We sat there for a while, relishing in how lucky we felt in that moment. I searched up what a hatching embryo looked like, and we both gushed at what that all meant. It was good news. Hatching was a good news. Our little miracle fighter was making his way to where he needed to go. He or she. Either way, a total fighter. I slept with socks on my feet that night. I never do. I stayed wrapped up in my warmest blanket and worked from my bed the next morning. Bed to couch, couch to bed - that was about to be my routine for the next two weeks.

Dear God, please hold us near.