Moving On

First of all, I just have to say thank you all so much for your comments from the last post. I guess maybe we all feel that way now and then… good to know. I got a ton of emails from ladies who don't blog but just felt that they had to share that they too had felt that way. Bless you all. I'll never take for granted the physical, in real life friends that I've been blessed with… there's nothing like a real hug. But just in case there was any doubt, Tuesday's comments sealed the deal… infertile sisters, you are my people. Infertility has molded me and changed me until I am a different person, and anyone who hasn't walked this road will never understand me, not really. It is a beautiful thing to know and be known. So thank you all for not hating me for the truth, the truth that sometimes I'm a wee bit jealous.

In case you've been living under a rock, or maybe you live in a county other than the US (I think I have a few Canadian, Australian and Russian readers), the South was hit with Snowpocalypse 2014, on Tuesday. Which means we got between trace amounts and, oh, about four inches of snow. Athens got the good part, the part that gets you out of work but not stuck for 10+ hours in your car. Have mercy. I'm the first to admit that Southerners are hilarious when it comes to snow. Like A snowflake falls and they all lose their minds, rush to the store and buy milk and bread… if I'm snowed in, I don't even want milk and bread. And really, do you mean to tell me that if by some miracle you really are trapped in your home for, I don't know, 36 hours, that you don't already have enough food to survive? So yeah, admittedly, Southerners have plenty of reasons to be made fun of in terms of Winter weather response. Tuesday was not one of those times. Atlanta and the surrounding areas failed miserably to respond appropriately, leaving thousands of people stuck on the interstates for hours. I can't even tell you how many people took to Facebook to find shelter for loved ones who ran out of gas or literally could not get past traffic accidents to get home. It was insane.

Meanwhile, the Greavus both made it home to share in a glorious day of nothing on Wednesday. Seriously, I didn't even get out of my pajamas until 6 o'clock (in the evening) and the only reason I did was because Sam wanted to go to the UGA basketball game. Then I came home and got back in my pajamas. Thank you snow. It was literally just what I needed. I wish I could say that after the day off I'm refreshed and ready to move on, but I'm not. Not really. I took the ultrasound photo of our two embryos being placed into my uterus off the refrigerator this morning…. I sobbed my eyes out. In addition to random outbursts of tears, I'm dealing with rage. Like fire breathing, steam boiling, RAGE. Like don't ask me for anything, or come in my personal space, or look at me the wrong way or I'm liable to rip your head off, RAGE. I'm 99% sure that this has to do with the loss of all of the hormones… everything plummeted along with my mood. At least that's what I'm telling myself. The only other option is that I'm possessed. I'm hoping that with the onset of a new cycle, the hormones will level out and life will continue at a slightly less volatile state. And hopefully I don't do any permanent damage before things return to normal.

Several of you have asked what our plans are for moving forward. Do we have frozen embryos? How many? What quality? When will we go back? Unfortunately, the news isn't that good in terms of our remaining embryos. I finally got the nerve to call and find out exactly what the grades are and well, I kind of wish I hadn't. If I was struggling to drum up enthusiasm over an FET before, I'm definitely going to struggle now. Here's the down low:

We had 18 visible follicles via ultrasound before retrieval.
Only 13 eggs were retrieved. (at least 5 follicles were empty)
Only 8 eggs were mature. (5 eggs were immature)
We transferred 2, grade 2, 8 and 12 cell embryos on day 3.
We have 6 embryos frozen on day 3 in groups of 2.
Group 1: grade 3, 9 and 8 cells
Group 2: grade 3, 8 and 4 cells
Group 3: grade 3, 6 and 3 cells

I know the grading part doesn't make a ton of sense. The grading system for day 3 embryos is confusing, even for people who understand blastocyst grades. It's so different. Essentially our first two (the two we transferred) were our best. They were both on track or ahead as far as cell division, all of the cells were the same size, and there was only minor fragmentation. Our remaining six embryos are either on track or behind in terms of growth, but the cells are not the same size, and there is some fragmentation. Day 3 embryos are supposed to have between 6 and 10 cells. Obviously, the 3 and 4 cell embryos are very behind. I honestly don't know what our chances are with any of the possible transfers. Maybe Dr. Duffy will have some insight at our follow up consultation.

As to when we will go back for our embryos, well, I really can't say. Unfortunately, everything about our time in Florida proved to be more expensive than we had planned. We spent every last penny in our IVF account and then some. So we're back at the saving up dimes and nickels stage again. I'm predicting it will cost us about $2,500 for a FET, including medications and travel. So as to when we'll have $2,500 to go again… your guess is as good as mine.

I'm in a hurry only because I'm ready to move on. I have never been more ready to move past this season of life. I'm officially tired of putting X, Y, and Z on hold for years (and years, and years) all because of infertility. If IVF in Florida with our own eggs and sperm is not going to lead to our take home baby, well I'm ready to know that so that we can move on. I really have no clue what out next, next steps would be... how long it would take... how much it would cost. I'm still trying to wrap my head around $2,500 at the moment. So yeah, we're moving on... ever so slowly. Did you really expect anything different from us?

Green with Envy

I'm going to come straight out and say that this is not my best moment... if you'd like to remember me fondly and think of me in a positive light, you should probably stop reading now. Fair warning.

I've skipped straight over denial and gone straight to anger (I think the BETA of 1 was pretty clear, no denial here)... this just sucks. Plain and simple. Despite the fact that there's a plan, despite knowing this time of longing will be redeemed, despite believing that better days are in our future, despite all of that, this current moment, this current situation, it just plain sucks. I just want a family. I just want a baby of my own. I just want to make my husband a dad. I just want to move on with our lives and get out of this season. There is so much more that I want for our lives than infertility. I'm just so mad that this is our story, that we aren't one of the "lucky ones".

Which leads me to the envy. I warned you, this is not my prettiest side. I'm battling some intense jealousy right now. I used to be jealous of girls who posted a positive pregnancy test on Facebook at four or five weeks. I wanted to scream at them that it could be gone in the blink of an eye, and yet I was jealous. Jealous of the ease with which they got pregnant, jealous that they had no fear, jealous that a positive home pregnancy test actually meant a bring home baby. That's where the jealousy started. But it's grown.

With every step along the way, with every failure we've endured, with every next hurdle cleared, there becomes someone else to be jealous of. I'm now jealous of the women who take Clomid and baby dance just a little more often and find their take home baby... and that's crazy because I remember being that person. I remember being scared silly of Clomid. I remember thinking timed intercourse would be the death of me. I vividly remember how hard those first steps were, so I want success for anyone who has to even take those initial steps... but I'm also jealous. Jealous that they got to get off the crazy roller coaster after what now feels like 45 seconds. Back then, the hot flashes, night sweats, raging attitude... it seemed like it would never end, but now the idea that swallowing a pill for five days and lying under the sheets with my husband... the thought that that could bring a baby, well it makes me want to scream. I'm so jealous of the success some find at this first stop.

I never in a million years thought I'd be jealous of couples who have to move onto to IUI. Have mercy, but I wasn't sure we were going to survive the decision to move onto IUI. It seemed so huge at the time. IUIs are expensive and stressful. I remember feeling like a nightmare walking during those three back to back IUIs. But now, the idea that someone would become pregnant from IUI seems kind of outrageous... like, "you mean that actually works?!?!" And now I'm jealous of couples who find success at this stop. I hate to admit it, but it's true. I would love to go back to IUI #3, what we thought of as our "Hail Mary" and find success. I'd happily go through the Clomid, the cysts, the testing, and the two failed IUIs if we could find success on IUI number three (or four, of five) And the idea that some couples succeed on their first IUI... simply mind boggling.

And then there's the surgeries: the laparoscopies, the D&Cs, the varicocelectomies, the stuff that cleans out, reshapes, resets everything. Surgery is absolutely no joke... I mean endometriosis and varicoceles certainly suck... they suck a lot. And for most couples, these types of diagnoses are life altering, and are often not solved with a one time surgery. However, there are those "lucky" few (and yes, I know that it's insane to think of anyone with Endometriosis as "lucky") who manage to get pregnant following a surgery of some type. I remember being absolutely terrified of my laparoscopy. If I wasn't crippled with fear of dying, I was sure they'd cut a fallopian tube or laser off an ovary. But I also remember the hope. There are always stories or those who are successful following a surgery... I wanted to be one of those people! I'm jealous of those people.

And then there's IVF. I feel like the lowest of the low to even say this, but I'm now jealous of those for which IVF works the first time... my word, I never thought I'd write that. IVF is enormous, it's crazy expensive, it's overwhelming, it's emotionally draining, it's hard on the body... I wouldn't wish IVF on anyone, but for those who find success after one fresh cycle, well, I'm jealous. I'm jealous because it's not me, because that's not my story, because for some unknown reason this is not our stop. It's not that I was certain it would be. I knew the statistics, and I went in knowing we might need every egg available to us. But I also knew that we might be a one and done family... that one IVF might be all it took to bring home our miracle. But it wasn't, and now I'm left to battle feelings of envy for those that found there family at IVF #1.

And I'm fairly sure that before too long, I'm going to be jealous of those who can afford multiple rounds of IVF. Are you disgusted with me, yet? I am. I hate this. I hate that I would ever be jealous of someone else's success, particularly anyone who has struggled to conceive. I want to be able to celebrate EVERY victory. And typically I can; I've always been able to celebrate and be truly, truly happy for the ladies who finally get off this crazy roller coaster. So forgive me for the icky darkness that I just leached all over the blog today. I promise that it's just a phase of dealing with the loss of our two embryos. And let me also be really clear, when I say I'm envious, not for one second do I mean I'm asking "why her?"... not once, not ever does that cross my mind. It's more of a "why not me too?" I don't want to take away anyone else's success, I just want the chance to join in.

I apologize for the ugly word vomit. I just had to get it all out. I know that I have a lot to be thankful for, that there are others who would still trade places with me. I told myself I could have this day, this one day to be angry, to be petty, to throw myself a pity party, to be, well, not nice. Tomorrow, we're moving on. Tomorrow we will focus on all that I do have.

Life happens... we've just got to pick up the pieces and move forward.

It's Over

It's officially over. BETA came back at 1 today. I was once again pregnant for the briefest moment... just a blip on the radar really.

From here I simply stop all medications and wait for a new cycle. We're not moving forward with a frozen embryo transfer this next cycle, so I guess it's back to life as normal. I went ahead and let them schedule a follow up consult with Dr. Duffy in a few weeks. The problem is I don't really have too many questions about future FETs; I do however have a lot of "what the hell?" type questions regarding IVF... unfortunately those don't matter. 

I'm obviously sad. I know this won't really make much sense, but I don't think I'm any more sad than if it had initially been negative... either way we lost two embryos. It just took us a little while to make it official. I also feel guilty because, well, I'm not quite as sad as I was after the first miscarriage. I'm definitely still sad, just not like a puddle of goo on the floor sad. I don't think it will wreck my life for three months like the first one. Give me a week and I think the random outbursts of tears will be over. The only way I can explain it is this: with IVF, there are only two options. The embryo becomes your bring home baby, or it dies. I guess I had resigned myself to that. I'm definitely sad, but I guess I just recognized the distinct possibility, the likelihood even, that we would lose some in this process. That's not how I felt about the first... a miscarriage back then kind of came out of left field and shocked me. I guess I was better prepared this time. Maybe preparation take some of the sadness away, at least at this early stage. 

And I suppose I'm sad for another reason too. The loss of the two embryos is certainly significant, but it also feels like the loss of our best chance. I don't know if the doctors would say any of ours had a "good" chance, but those two were the best shot we had. I can't help but think, if those two failed, how can the others stand a chance? I know it's a defeatist mentality, and hopefully I'll shake it before too long, but right now, I just can't get excited about a frozen embryo transfer. I know FETs often have better results because the body is less stimulated and less stressed, but that doesn't change the quality of what we have left. And honestly, I don't even know what that is. I know we have six frozen in groups of two, and that they were all frozen on day 3 (because they didn't think they'd survive to day 5), but I don't know how many cells each had when they froze it or what the grades are... I guess I need to call about that.

Tonight is one of those nights I really wish I enjoyed alcohol a little more... I nice glass of red wine seems in order, but I guess I'll make do with my drug of choice (Diet Coke). A long bubble bath seems like it's due as well as I haven't had a good soak since the night before the retrieval. And I might even treat myself to a Starbucks in the morning... yeah, that sounds about right.

Thank you all so much for your encouragement and your prayers. It was a long weekend, but now we can officially move on. We're simply trusting that our story is not over... onto the next chapter.

"It's positive, but..."

I'm pretty sure I'm good if I NEVER hear those words again. I think I officially have PTSD surrounding that simple phrase... my heart stops, my stomach twists, my eyes tear. Essentially, I received a positive BETA today... positive as in 6. The nurse followed up her "It's positive, but" with "it's really low and it's unlikely that it's viable." Yea, I know. I've heard those words before. Twenty-eight months ago a nurse called to tell me "It's positive, but you're likely miscarrying." Yea, I remember exactly how that feels.

My infertile sisters all see the writing on the wall so to speak, but there are a lot of other people who were waiting for news today, so let me explain. The test assigns a number based on how much hCG is in your blood. Anything over 5 is considered pregnant, so yes, "technically" I'm pregnant. However, I'm essentially at the "missed period" stage meaning I should be able to take a home pregnancy test. HPTs vary in their sensitivity, but a First Response Early Result home pregnancy test (the gold standard) has a sensitivity level of 25... I would not get a positive. Other tests like the Error Proof Test or ClearBlue Easy Digital have a sensitivity level of 40 and 50 respectively... definitely not getting a positive. The "positive" result most likely means that one or both of the embryos attempted to implant, hCG was created and began to circulate, but soon after the embryo deteriorated and so the hCG level is now falling.

Basically, I'm miscarrying, it's just extremely early. The doctor won't even refer to it as a miscarriage; he'll call it a chemical pregnancy... but we won't use that hateful term around here. It makes what's happening sound like a figment of my imagination or a pregnancy in numbers only. Well, it wasn't in numbers only, the numbers wouldn't be there if it didn't happen. The strange thing is, I'm pretty sure I'd feel the exact same way if it the numbers had come back as a 3 or a 0. To me, my babies were alive, and now they're not. Sure they weren't breathing or looking anything like a baby, just a clump of less than perfect cells, but they were growing. I would have mourned the loss of our two embryos just as intensely if the BETA had been negative. The only additional bitter part about this is that it really hurts to come so close... to know they tried to implant, to know they survived at least a few days beyond the transfer. Sure, a positive BETA would have still meant we were ages away from a bring home baby, but we were closer than we've been in the last twenty-eight months.

I really can't process what this means going forward yet. Does this mean my eggs suck more than we knew? Are all of our embryos destined to die from early chromosomal issues? Is there more at play here like hostile uterine environment or killer cells? These are questions for another day. Right now, I'm just sad. In my heart, it feels like two of my babies have died, and well that just hurts... a lot.

I do of course have to stay on the medications and retest on Monday... it's standard procedure anytime there is a positive BETA. Many of you will want to know if there is any hope. I'll say this, it's incredibly unlikely. There are a wide range of potential results from a BETA at 4 weeks... anything from a 5 to 426. But keep in mind, those levels don't all become take home babies, meaning those aren't the numbers from only successful pregnancies, those are numbers from all pregnancies, ones that end in a day, a week, a month, the first trimester... they are all included. The American Pregnancy Association suggests that there are a few possible reasons for low hCG: a miscalculation of pregnancy date (not possible for me; we know exactly how far along I should be), an ectopic pregnancy (very unlikely with IVF), a blighted ovum or miscarriage. So yes, technically, I'm pregnant, and yes, things could turn around, but in this situation, knowing what we do and with our history, it's unlikely. The test Monday will most likely confirm a hCG level below 5 and I'll come off of all medications. However, I will say that I believe in a God of miracles, so I'm not discounting that He could show up in a mighty, mighty way... we're abundantly ready if He chooses to do so.

Until then, we wait. Thank you all for your well wishes and prayers today. Test day is incredibly stressful and I can't tell you how much your texts and messages warmed my heart during the wait. It feels wonderful to know that so many people are hopeful for us. Your encouragement means the world to us.

"Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength"- Isaiah 40:31

Lord, give me strength.

Some Answers

For those of you who are not eagerly counting down the days until Pregnancy Test Day, I'll clue you in on the countdown: four more days. So the question everyone wants to know is: "how are you doing?" I'm doing okay. Better than expected, really. I mean, I'm still sane, I'm still functioning, I haven't chosen a two week sleep as a means of coping, and really that's about all you can ask of yourself during the two week wait. But in all seriousness, I'm doing okay. There are certainly moments that sneak up on me... moments of complete despair, moments of potential bliss, but for the most part, I'm just living each day, trying not to let all that Friday represents take over.

The next question that everyone wants to know is: "how do you feel?" Normal. I know, what an answer. On one hand, normal is a HUGE improvement to how I was feeling. There were a few days where I just wasn't sure which terrible drug had caused it, but I knew that at least one medication was wreaking havoc in my body. Thankfully we're past that. But in some ways, normal is also terrifying. It seemed more plausible that a pregnancy might exist when I felt like crap (even though I knew I didn't feel like crap because of a pregnancy). Feeling normal seems to be the antithesis of feeling pregnant, so I'll admit that I wish there was something to complain about. But sadly, all symptoms/side effects have cleared out.

Another thing everyone is asking is: "are you optimistic/excited/anxious?" It depends on when you ask... the answer could be different 20 minutes from now. I guess I could summarize by saying I'm realistic, yet hopeful. Realistic means that statistically, we are not pregnant. We were once given odds as high as 70%... yea, um, that was before we found out my eggs officially suck. I read somewhere (I know, get off google) that transferring two day 3 embryos gives about a 35% chance of success. It's really heartbreaking and frustrating to hear that after all we went through, after three weeks of work, 14 months of saving, and $14,000 that we only have a 10-15% increase in odds over a normal fertile couple my age... that's just plain crazy! It seems like after all of that, we should at least be over 50%... it should at least be likely that we succeeded. So I'm realistic when I say that the odds are not in our favor. I'm not a betting woman, so I'm unwilling to say I feel confident or optimistic. However, I'll add that I believe in a God that is in no way bound by numbers. I'm hopeful that He has heard out cries and will mercifully answer our prayers. So yeah, realistic, yet hopeful kind of sums it up.

The last question my friends want to know is this: "how's your heart?" This one's tough. I want to say fragile. Because it is. I've experienced the disappointment before. I know that a whole slew of things can quickly follow on the heels of a failure like this... anger, sadness, regret, depression. And yes, I fear those things. I fear what fighting infertility can make me become. I fear the shell of a woman, of a friend, of a wife I could turn into for weeks, months, years... I've seen it in my own friends. It's a terrible thing to crawl out of your own empty husk. However, despite the fact that the human heart is fragile, I'm feeling optimistic about surviving Friday intact, no matter the results. Yes, I will be sad... super sad. Yes, I will be frustrated... immensely so. Yes, I will feel despair... how much longer will we have to walk this road? I will feel all of these things and more if it is a negative result. And obviously if it's a positive result, I will be elated, terrified, shocked, thankful... too many emotions to describe. Essentially, I guess I'm as close to at peace with the outcome as I think I'll ever get. It will be what it will be... we just have to be ready to move forward with either result. So I guess the answer is fragile, my heart is certainly fragile, but I feel comforted that the Lord's got this. He's in control, He sees the bigger picture, and He's not going to let us go. Friday could change everything or change nothing, but either way, we're going to be okay... eventually.

So four more days of waiting... four more days and then we'll know.

Thoughts on being PUPO

For those of you not in the know, PUPO is a term infertile women use to describe the unique time frame post IVF transfer and pre pregnancy test. It stands for: Pregnant Until Proven Otherwise. I'm not sure if I really buy into it for myself, I mean, I was always happy to celebrate other ladies who were PUPO, but me? Am I pregnant? I mean they're in there, but are they still alive? Are they going to implant? Those two things seem kind of critical to the idea of being pregnant. But whatever... my community likes to call it PUPO, so PUPO it is!

Before we get into the more emotional and spiritual thoughts on being pregnant until proven otherwise, let's cover the physical aspects, shall we?

First of all, recuperating from IVF (retrieval and transfer) has been significantly worse than my laparoscopy. I know. It makes no sense. I don't have Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome, so there's really no excuse. All I know is, I've felt pretty terrible since Friday afternoon of last week. My stomach is soooo sore, like someone beat me with a crowbar kind of sore. And food, all food, sounds marginal at best, and vomit worthy at worst. Which leads me to my favorite thing about the two week wait: discovering you have every early pregnancy symptom known to mankind. I currently have:

• food aversion- triple check
• increased urination- yep, we're coming back to this one
• fatigue- I fell asleep at 8:30 last night... for good
• tender breasts- have mercy
• nausea/vomiting- the only thing I'm currently missing... it's a miracle

And just in case there is anyone out there thinking that this is good news and is about to offer congratulations, today is day 6 of our little embryos' lives, better known as implantation day. Which means today is really the first chance that the embryos could implant, meaning all of the above "symptoms" are not from the embryo or any hCG. They are just the fun side effects of all the drugs I'm on and having hormone levels that are all over the place. I know, I have absolutely no idea why fertile people don't choose to procreate this way... it's so much more fun playing these guessing games.

So let's go back to that frequent urination bit... I know, infertility blogs are full of TMI. Feel free to skip ahead. So Sunday night, better known as dose number four of Crinone (progesterone), I started exhibiting the signs of a UTI. I couldn't sleep so I stayed up researching all the side effects of each medication I was taking... Crinone matched everything. Less than 5% of people get any of those side effects, but they were all listed. I decided to tough it out until yesterday when I caved and called the clinic to see if there was anything to be done. They said they had to rule out an actual UTI first. I rolled my eyes but agreed to go get one since they said I could take those AZO pills to ease the discomfort. Well, don't you know, the OB's office thinks I actually do have a UTI... lovely.

And last but not least, I look pregnant. I'd say a good 12 weeks, maybe even 14. I swear I cringe every time I pass a stranger... if someone asks if I'm pregnant I may completely lose it. I'm assuming this is all bloat, but it looks legit. I'm thinking about making a t-shirt that says "just had IVF... don't even think about asking" just so everyone is really, really clear. The good news is that the bump is adorable if I do say so myself. I mean for a bump that is bloat and not baby, it's pretty cute. So just in case there is any future opportunity for a bump that is baby, I have high hopes that it will be a really cute bump.

Okay moving on. My thoughts are as usual, kind of all over the place. One moment I'm really hopeful and jazzed thinking things like "I'm closer than I've been in 2.5 years" and "we've got 4 chances at this" and the next second I'm sure that I will not be one of the lucky ones, that IVF is simply a cruel temptation to prolong my misery. I'm trying really hard not to let my mind go there, but sometimes it sneaks up on me. In fact yesterday I found myself researching next steps in case this fails. Suddenly I realized what I was doing and felt so guilty. I can't give up on these babies yet. There is a lot of fear tied in with this whole mess and my crazy mind thinks it will hurt less as long as there is a backup plan. But that's a lie; it's going to hurt like crazy if that first beta comes back negative. It doesn't even matter that statistically it will be negative. It's still going to hurt. So I'm refusing to allow myself to look into CCRM, or adoption, or donor eggs, or donor embryos... none of it. There will be time when and if we have to cross those bridges.

In the mean time, I'm trying not to focus every minute of every day on "am I pregnant?" and "was that an implantation twinge?". I'm really, really, really trying to trust that the Lord's got us, that He's in control, and that He is big enough to handle whatever comes next. I've begged and pleaded for these little lives, but ultimately it is 100% out of my hands. He'll either breathe life, or He won't. And although it's going to hurt like crazy if we fail, and I'm going to want to crawl in the darkest hole and cry my eyes out, I'm constantly reminding myself that He is faithful. He will not call me out on the waters and abandon me; He will see me through. 

You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown, where feet may fail
And there I find You in the mystery
In oceans deep, my faith will stand

And I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours, and You are mine

- Hillsong United "Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)"

Transferring Life

Thank you all so much for your prayers! No really, thank you! Saturday was one of the darkest days of my life. It was actually worse than you may imagine initially because the phone call from my doctor was confusing. I don't blame him as I was sobbing and may have been hard to understand, but he said that the embryos should have been 8 cells on day 2... which is incorrect, but for the next three hours I was certain that they would all die. Sam eventually looked it up online and showed me that no, they should be 4 cells which meant that most of ours were behind, but not that behind. I called and confirmed it with a nurse, but still felt really unsure about their ability to even survive the night. The doctor had called them fragile, and there was no arguing that most were a half to a whole day behind in there expected growth. It was such a long day and long night!

But someone somewhere has a special seat up front in the Throne Room, or maybe it was the collective cry of so many. I can't explain it, but those embryos "perked right up" overnight, as my doctor said. I'm still confused on the numbers and how this happened, but we have eight embryos. He said there were seven on Saturday and eight on Sunday. In addition to that, half of them were on pace or ahead. We had two 8 cell, one 9 cell, and one 12 cell on day three when they should be 8 cells. Now nothing had a perfect grade, but most had a grade of 2 meaning a little fragmentation but all the cells are equal. I'm not sure I can adequately describe the change in their outlook from day 2 to day 3... even our doctor was really impressed!

Despite the change, he still recommended that we go ahead with a day 3 transfer. And after chatting with Dr. Duffy, I'm much more okay with this. He admitted that he is probably the only doctor in the clinic who would recommend this... everyone else in the practice likes to push for day 5 blastocysts. And I was suddenly reminded why I chose him, why I like him. He is for giving each of my embryos the best chance at life, not pushing them to survive in a lab with manmade medium so that only the fittest survive. He said pushing for day 5 may only leave me with one or two blasts, or none, and there's absolutely no proof that an embryo that perishes in the lab between day 3 and day 5 wouldn't have survived and grown into a beautiful baby if transferred earlier. I know a lot of people disagree with this, but that's okay. We just want to give them all a chance. It probably means that future FETs (frozen embryo transfers) will fail at a higher rate, but our embryos fought really hard to get to day 3... we're not giving up on them just because they had a rocky start.

We ended up transferring two embryos, an 8 cell grade 2 and the 12 cell grade 2. He did still offer to transfer three and explained that this would be against ASRM's Transfer Guidelines, but that if our absolute goal is a pregnancy from this cycle, that's what he'd recommend. Essentially, day 3 embryos are just harder to judge.... the ones that would have died in between day 3 and day 5 in the lab might very well die in the uterus... there's no good way to know, which is why a day 5 transfer is typically preferred. I will say that FIRM is a little flippant with the embryo transfer guidelines... Nazis about OHSS, but not so much on how many should be transferred. They of course have a slightly higher twin rate because of that. We decided to stick with two. These are my reasons:

1. My goal is not to get pregnant no matter what out of this cycle. My goal is to get pregnant. If it's not this cycle than hopefully next.
2. I'm still not super comfortable with the Lupron trigger, I feel better about it, but not great. Therefore, putting all of me eggs embryos in one basket uterus, doesn't make me very comfortable.
3. We want a safe pregnancy for me and the baby (or babies). There is undeniably an increased risk for each additional baby.
4. We don't want triplets. Twins is one thing, but triplets? Not really in our plans. The odds of all three implanting as day 3 embryos was crazy small, but I don't gamble. And I also would feel super weird hoping that one or two dies during the next two weeks... super weird.

The transfer went really smoothly. Dr. Duffy said I was the best transfer of the day. The one thing I've got going for me in the reproductive department is a normal uterus and an easily accessible cervix. It really felt no different than an IUI in terms of procedure (other than the painfully full bladder)... there was the HUGE difference though in the fact that they weren't injecting several million sperm but rather transferring 2 precious embryos. There are a couple of things that I really hated about the transfer though, most notably was that Sam couldn't be in the room. I had never heard of a clinic that didn't allow the spouse to be in the transfer room. It's a really special moment and I hate that Sam missed it. The second thing I hate is that they didn't give me a picture of my embryos... I thought that was standard. I did however get an ultrasound image of them at the moment of transfer. 

The embryo in in the little glowing blob. I'm not sure why it glows, but I
assure you, the embryos are not radioactive. : )

It was so weird. I went into the transfer a sad, depressed, mopey mess... even with the news about the improved quality I was feeling bummed that our IVF journey did not turn out as we had hoped. And then they transferred those embryos inside, the tears started to flow and my whole mindset changed. I'm not giving up on these embryos. I was reminded that these are the exact embryos that I was fighting for with all of those doctors... I said I didn't want just grade A and grade 1. I wanted them all because they all have a chance at growing into a take home baby. Well, I've got them. They're not perfect, but they're ours. They are genetically ours and now, more importantly, physically ours and we so desperately want them!

And that was it. My clinic strongly discourages bed rest. In fact, they don't even allow you to rest after the transfer. They get you up immediately and send you to empty your bladder. They said that they used to require bed rest, but recent studies have shown that bed rest is not only not helpful, but can be hurtful. I'm on the fence about it, but my desire to come home won out. Sam couldn't get off of work for an extra day and I was kind of an emotional mess after the roller coaster of Saturday and Sunday... I just wanted to be home with my husband and my sweet Sterling and Everest. As it was a day 3 transfer and nothing can implant for several days, I decided to come home yesterday after the transfer. It was a long drive and the entire time I was second guessing the wisdom, particularly with every bump in the road, but I'm trying to trust that they are snuggled in my uterus and hopefully were uninterrupted in their task of cell division by the bumpy roads. I decided to take today though and stay home as I'm still exhausted and sadly still recovering from the retrieval. We won't call it bed rest as I'm fixing my own food and beverage and doing some laundry, we will just call it being lazy and recuperating from a very long three weeks! 

So thank you again for all of your words of encouragement: your text messages, comments, and emails meant the world to us during one of our darkest days. And thank you for your prayers! The Lord decided to breathe life and we are so, so thankful!

Now settle in... eleven days and counting until the pregnancy test!