You guys, thank you so much to everyone who commented on my post or sent me a message yesterday. I even had one friend drop off some marigolds. It was a rough day, one of the roughest I’ve had in a long time, but you all managed to make me feel so loved. It’s pretty easy to feel isolated and alone on this journey, but you have proven time and again that you walk beside me.
After Lettie went to bed yesterday, Tim and I talked for a long time about what to do. I did end up connecting with my doctor, but she didn’t give us a strong opinion one way or another on whether to go for the day three transfer or hope that the embryo grew to blastocyst. We hashed out every single possibility six times over. We even called a real-life friend who has gone through IVF to bounce ideas off of her. We worried about miscarriages and chemical pregnancies and the possibility of a genetically abnormal embryo implanting. We worried and what-ifed until we were about to pass out from exhaustion.
And then we both just kind of stopped. We simultaneously came to the conclusion that we did not want to make a decision out of fear. Neither one of us wants to live our lives like that. And we certainly don’t want to teach our children to be ruled by fear either. For us, all the reasons to avoid a day three transfer came from a place of fear, not hope. So we decided that if the next day our embryo or embryos looked the same or worse, we would go ahead with the day three transfer. We called the acupuncturist and told her to meet us at the clinic in the morning. Then we went to bed, feeling happy with the decision that we made together. I think we both felt lighter. And dare I say it? Hopeful.
But you know how it is. The best laid plans and all that. This morning the embryologist called bright and early and told us that the decent-looking two-cell guy from yesterday was now a bad-ass, grade-1, 8-cell embryo (these are all good things). And guess what else? One of the two poor-quality embryos from yesterday also looked pretty good! The last one was disintegrating (sorry, buddy. I still love you, though).
Well, eff me. This was not the news we were expecting at all. All of you that told me yesterday not to give up were absolutely right. Your prayers and thoughts and good vibes must have worked because those punks are fighting!
So Tim and I reassessed, and again made a decision from a place of hope. We decided that since the embryos were clearly fighters, we were going to let them fight it out another couple of days. On day five the embryologist will check them again–if any are still going and can be biopsied for testing, they’ll do so at that time. I know there are wildly different theories on this in the infertility world, but both my doctor and the embryologist said that if the embryos were going to make it to day five, they would do so whether in the lab or in my body. I trust them on this one. My clinic has really good labs and that is one of the reasons I chose them. And not only do I trust the professionals, but I have faith in our embryos. I believe they can do it. I’m proud of our scrappy little cells.
And yeah, this means that we might not have a damn thing to transfer in the end, but I think I will ultimately be ok if that happens–very sad, yes, but ok.
Because today, one more time, I choose hope.