The First Egg Transfer
NOW… there’s the anxious wait to find out if any of the eggs fertilized.
The nurse warned me that in your 30’s you should expect that only 50% of your eggs will be normal; and in your 40’s you’re looking at a whopping 80% of your eggs being abnormal. What dire statistics. The older you are = the more miscarriage risk you have.
The wait is terrifying.
I finally get the phone call. “Good news,” they say, “3 out of 4 eggs have fertilized, though one is splitting too fast.”
I don’t know what that means, but I’m just excited to get some good news.
A few days later I find myself in a hospital gown again, waiting to go back into the ‘theatre’ room. The scientist comes over and introduces herself. She has a Russian accent: totally EPIC. It feels like a movie.
“You have three eggs that fertilized,” she explains, holding a piece of paper with numbers and ratings. “The first two have split well,” she says, “but the third one looks abnormal. It has split too many times and looks like it has too many chromosomes. It is very rare when this happens, but we think that two sperm got in.”
I blink in surprise. I didn’t even know that could happen.
“Now the other two look good,” she continues, “but we will put the best quality egg in today, and leave the other egg to see if it continues to split appropriately. If it becomes a healthy blastocyst on day 5, then you can get that egg frozen.”
A little bit of sunshine is piercing through the holes in my heart, trying to nourish the tiny nugget of hope that’s hiding in the dark corner.
The ‘Egg Transfer’ procedure is quick and relatively painless. I am back on the table, my legs are up in the stirrups and a speculum holds my vagina open but there is much less pain this time.
I was worried that the doctor would have trouble finding my cervix as my uterus used to be retroverted (bent backwards) when it was adhered (stuck) to my bowel. The surgery obviously fixed that. “It looks anterior now,” the doctor confirms, “I’m not having any trouble finding your cervix.”
She is quick and efficient and before I know it, it’s over.
“Can I stand up?” I ask in surprise.
She laughs.
“It’s not going to fall out of you.”
I get dressed; I feel like I’m in a foggy cloud. It’s surreal. The reality that I am one of ‘those’ people still hasn’t sunk in. Do all women feel this way?
“Now, act like you’re pregnant for the next couple of weeks, until we get the blood results,” they command.
Act like I’m pregnant?
I mean, seven minutes ago I wasn’t pregnant and now, suddenly, I have an EMBRYO inside of me and I’m to act as though I’m pregnant?
What a crazy concept.
So I do.
No sushi.
No soft cheeses.
No leftovers.
No coffee.
No hot baths.
No strenuous exercise.
I faithfully take my vitamins.
And every night I insert progesterone gel up my vagina. I usually close the door and tell my husband to stay out; I am doing my “Ba jay-jay Business”.
I am still swollen down there and the gel makes me pass sticky white gook. Sex is NOT on the cards.
Now it’s time for the two week wait from Hell.
I scoop down to the bottom of my heart. Let’s see….what’s left?
I thought I was fully depleted but I stand corrected.
Anxiety.
Stress.
Anger.
Hope.
Excitement.
Yep. There are still a lot of emotions there.
