About a week and a half ago, my husband and I were in Jacksonville for the transfer of our lone PGS tested and approved embryo. That process itself was pretty simple compared to egg retrievals. I had to drink about 20oz of water an hour before the transfer so my bladder would push my uterus into a better position for the transfer, and then the procedure itself was less uncomfortable than a pap smear. We could watch the instrument on the ultrasound screen and at the moment the embryo was released into my lining, there was a small flash of white (from the liquid) on the screen at the location of the embryo. It was kind of wild.
Then came 12 long days of waiting before I could get the pregnancy blood test. During this time, I had to take it easy, eat and drink like I was pregnant (I haven’t drunk this much milk since I was a kid), not lift anything heavy, and try to remain calm and unstressed. Oh, and take oodles of uncomfortable hormonal medicines twice a day.
Today was finally testing day. I went to our local hospital early in the morning to ensure the results would be available same day, and then tried to not watch the clock while I waited for the call that would give me the results.
The first time the nurse called, it was to tell me that she had called the lab and they didn’t have any record of my test. That was because the lab I originally thought I could use for the tests didn’t do any same-day tests, so I had to change the location and the doctor’s office hadn’t heard my voicemail yet. The second call from the nurse was to ask for another number because the number I was given by the technician this morning was incorrect. The third call actually contained the results. It was negative. The embryo didn’t implant. I’m not pregnant.
We don’t know what we’re going to do next. That was our single good embryo from the three rounds of already-paid-for IVF cycles. I have a phone consult with the doctor next week and we’ll see what he says.
If you see me, don’t tell me that God has a plan for everything. Don’t tell me about other options for having kids. Don’t tell me that if it’s meant to be it’ll happen. I’m totally fine with “that sucks, I’m really sorry.” Or wine and stinky cheeses.