I’ve been sitting on this one for awhile because, frankly, I didn’t know what to say. I’m tired of having nothing but bad news. I’m afraid anyone who reads my blog will stop reading because it has just become a laundry list of let-downs, set-backs, and negativity. I’m not even sure I’m ready to write it all out because I haven’t fully accepted the ramifications of everything this piece of news encompasses….
My first round of IVF failed. It didn’t work. I am not pregnant. We must go back to the drawing board and start all over again. The process that I’ve been pouring my heart and soul into since the beginning of July has all been for naught. It has been one month and 4 days since our embryo was placed into my uterus for safe keeping, all in hopes that it would implant and grow into a little bundle of joy. I did everything I was supposed to do, my uterus was lined perfectly, and the embryo was of excellent quality—and it still didn’t work.
The day of the embryo transfer is kind of a blur because it all went so quickly. As Jacob and I drove to the fertility center I was excited at the possibilities the day held. I wasn’t nervous. Jacob was a calming presence; he held my hand as we waited to be seen and assured me that we would be ok, even if we had to do it all over again. When we walked into my pre-transfer/recovery room, we were instructed to change into our gowns and put on hair nets. I drank a bunch of water and took my prescribed Valium for the procedure. We snuck in a quick pre-embryo-transfer-selfie and we were off into the procedure room. Jacob sat next to me as our embryo, magnified x1000, was displayed on the screen for us to see. Our hatching blastocyst was perfect, survived the thaw like a boss, and was ready to go back “home.” I weeped when I saw the little ball of cells that was half me and half Jacob. The ultrasound technician joked that he was ready for me and gave me some tissues. Jacob squeezed my hand a little tighter. The image was then zoomed out and it became a small speck. We watched as the little speck was sucked into the catheter and placed into my uterus. And that was that. It was all over in just a few short minutes. I was able to walk out of the procedure room and change back into my clothes immediately. We chatted for a bit with the staff—hugs and tears all around. When we got into the car I told Jacob I was surprised that I didn’t feel anything from the Valium. I expected to be knocked out. Within just minutes of making that statement, I was fast asleep. I slept the whole way home. Jacob took good care of me for the rest of the day.
The next two weeks were pretty unsettling. I tried as best I could to not think too much, to not work too hard, to not stress out, to not over-do it. Easier said than done. I was being observed at work by two administrators, I had a lot of grading to do, and two competitions to prepare for with my dance team. While I did have a lot of work to do, I considered it all to be a good distraction. Keeping occupied was better than stressing over the pregnancy test. I was feeling all types of early pregnancy symptoms when the date of the test drew near. I tried desperately not to think too much into any of them because the hormone shots I was taking all give side effects that are pretty similar to pregnancy symptoms. The day of the test was agonizing. I took the blood test at 6:30 am and didn’t get the results until nearly 6pm. Longest 12 hours of life. Ever. I’m not really sure anyone ever gets used to getting that call, even if it’s the 7th time.
After over a year of trying normally, several rounds of Clomid, then Femara, 4 IUIs, and a round of IVF, and here I am still explaining how it didn’t work and that I have to try again. I’m not sure what it’ll take. I’m not sure how much I have left in me. I’m not sure how many more friends and relatives will start trying, succeed, have baby showers, pop out little ones, and get to experience this pure joy and love I feel I’m missing before it’s actually our turn. To see how normal and natural this whole thing is for so many just shines a light on how draining and gut-wrenching this whole process is for us. It has been a long and arduous 5 years (in January) and it isn’t over yet—not even close.
I recently had a talk with my new doctor about our plans. He said my last doctor went in hard with the stimulation. He’ll ease up a bit. We’re going for quality, not quantity. I also will not be using an hCG trigger shot because that’s one way to reduce the chances of developing ovarian hyperstimulation. He also doesn’t want to rush into a new cycle. I had such a hard time with the last egg retrieval and it’s probably a good idea to heal for awhile and get back to “normal.” The hormones and steroids made me gain a good amount and I’d like to get most of that off before going back into the trenches. Also, I still have pleural effusion on my right lung. I don’t know what it’ll take for that to go away, but a little time won’t hurt. I hope to get into see a lung specialist and maybe have another thoracentesis. I’d like to be 100% before going through all of this again. The new doctor agrees and also wants me to choose a time that makes sense during my busy schedule. I’ve chosen to wait until dance is over for the year. This coincides with the doctor’s schedule for March. So, Operation Making Baby Sonne is on hiatus until March 2017…. and life goes on.