This Is It

We’re leaving for Denver tomorrow for the transfer of our two embryos next Tuesday. After months and months just dragging on, in the end time seems to have flown by. Ever since we brought the transfer date forward by six days, it’s seemed like it was just round the corner. And now it really is.

Yesterday I passed the final two hurdles that were standing between us and the transfer. They wanted my E2 (estradiol) to be above 300. It was 303. Phew, only just, but above 300 nonetheless. My lining rocks at a thickness of 8.7mm. 8mm is considered ideal and it can’t be too thick or too thin. My ultrasound technician gave me a picture of my empty, but pretty lining, which I proudly took home. It’s my sincere belief that the next ultrasound picture I take home will gloriously display something nestling in that plump lining. I got the call from my nurse at CCRM last night clearing me for the next stage of the calendar. So this morning we were treated to not one, but two shots. The usual Lovenox in the stomach, the latter of which, may I add, is a mess of gargantuan proportions, and the progesterone in oil (PIO) shot in the upper buttock. I haven’t decided yet which shot is worse. The PIO may win – the needle is a pretty good diameter which hurts when it goes in. It’s also a nice length of 1.5”. Meanwhile, my stomach is not a pretty picture. It currently has four estrogen patches stuck to it and the remnants of four more that were removed this morning, leaving lots of greyish adhesive behind which is quite difficult to get off. It’s also adorned with a mixture of now-yellow bruises and purple dots from the shots. On top of that, the twice-weekly acupuncture seems to be leaving marks at the moment. I have to be careful to leave the acupuncture points free from patches and shot bruises/purple dots for my practitioner. As for my back, it’s also a sight for sore eyes. The cupping I have (and LOVE) each time I have acupuncture leaves some very suspect-looking circles all over my neck and back. I wear my hair down these days. I’m also starting an anti-biotic and a steroid tonight, which both have to be taken for four days.

We spoke to the legendary Dr S on Tuesday. We’d asked for a “regroup” just to talk through plans for the transfer. I’m not easily intimidated, but for some reason Dr S turns me into a stuttering idiot. I think it’s a combination of his unbelievable reputation – he’s the master of all masters, as evidenced by his amazing statistics for successful live births - and his straight-shooting style. He just doesn’t mince his words or soften them in any way, nor does he use several words where one will do. Usually those words are yes or no. I need to learn to ask more open-ended questions. However, his style is actually what we like about him most: we always know where we stand. As expected, he confirmed that his recommendation is to transfer both of our embryos together. This is also what we’d like. Due to our ages of forty-one and forty-eight there’ll be other weaknesses in the embryos, even though they’re genetically normal and graded as near-perfect and average respectively, so transferring two is a good idea in our case. We also talked about our bad experience at transfer last year, when the local doctor was unable to insert the catheter into my cervix and had to dilate it, which caused spasms and is very likely to have traumatised and/or expelled the embryos. Since we’ve had the laminaria, this seems to be less of a concern but we wanted to bring it up nonetheless. One of the things I’ve learnt from our struggles is to speak up when anything is bothering us or we have any doubts. The transfer is the most technically critical part of an IVF cycle and the embryos can be destroyed in an instant if anything goes wrong.

On the subject of anything going wrong, I’m really trying hard not to dwell on all the things that could go wrong. Will the embryos thaw correctly without any deterioration, will the transfer go smoothly, will my lining allow them to implant, is the Lovenox adequately taking care of my blood clotting disorder and so on and so forth. Having said all that, I’m feeling so hopeful that I could explode. We believe we’ve discovered and addressed absolutely everything over the last two years. We’ve taken care of the hormonal, mechanical, genetic and blood issues. Hope, trust and confidence. Hope for a future with our offspring, trust in the embryologist thawing our embryos and in our doctor for the transfer, and confidence in my body to be able to look after these precious embryos and to help them implant and grow.