Today was the big day! Mid-morning, a single embryo (that’s it in the picture!) was transferred into my uterus. And if all goes as planned and hoped for and prayed for and wished for and begged for and, and, and that sweet little embaby (as someone turned me on to calling them) will attach to my uterine wall and grow healthily and successfully into my first-born child. Prayers graciously accepted.
I’ll find out in 9 days via a blood test at my fertility center if I’m pregnant. Naturally, I’m hoping these 9 days whizz by!
With this being my 4th embryo transfer, I felt like an old pro today. That’s not really something you want to feel like when you’re trying to conceive with the help of assisted reproductive technology, but it is what it is. While it was all pretty much the same overall as far as procedure and all that goes there were definitely some differences between today’s embryo transfer and my other three transfers.
First, I’ve been taking progesterone for this FET (frozen embryo transfer), which happens to be my 2nd frozen transfer; my first two were fresh cycles. I opted to not take progesterone with my first FET, but I figured I’d give it a shot this time (no pun intended). A good friend of mine used it for her recent FET, so I got the low-down on it from her. I’ve been taking the hormone intramuscularly for four nights now, and by “taking” I mean my mother injects my backside with an inch and a half needle.
Why my mother, you ask?
Well, Sara is currently away launching her new business, CrossFit Martha’s Vineyard, and so I’m staying with my parents while she’s gone. This is clearly and obviously another difference with this cycle. I’m alone-ish. And alone I went to my transfer today.
For a moment on my drive to the fertility center, I thought how lonely that was. But the thought quickly left my mind because it really isn’t lonely. I’ve been with this fertility center for 16 months. I see the same receptionist, same ultrasound tech, same reproductive endocrinologist, and same nurse every time I go. They’re practically family. At least that’s how I’ve come to feel about them.
Today was also different in another way, and possibly the biggest way. Today I wasn’t worried. I wasn’t filled with anxiety. I wasn’t partly scared of the potential outcome. I was at ease. Sure, I was excited. But I was mostly calm about it all. So little of this whole process is in my hands. I can take the meds they prescribe. I can eat the foods they recommend. I can sleep the hours they say are best. But I cannot make that sweet little embryo do anything. That is out of my hands.
Whether I walked in there today anxiety-ridden and nervous, scared to maybe report in 9 days that once again my transfer failed, or if I strolled in and rested in the waiting room calmly and said my prayers while in the exam room, what is going to be is going to be. And that’s what the time it’s taken to get to this 4th attempt has taught me. It’s going to be what it’s going to be.
My RE told me today that he’s never seen such a beautiful frozen embryo, that often they come out of the thaw “a bit frazzled and tattered”, but not mine. Mine was as good looking as a fresh embryo. I’m sure he says that to all the girls, but I like to think of it as my first “proud mom” moment.
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