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The Outcome of our 1st Embryo Transfer


On June 14th, we went in for our first ever embryo transfer. Since we weren’t PGS testing this time, our doctor suggested we go for a day-5 fresh transfer. We agreed that we would make a game-time decision as to whether we would transfer one or two. And we ended up transferring two morula embryos.

Since that day our emotions have been up and down. I started out being so optimistic and surprisingly calm (so calm that Reid felt he needed to be the nervous wreck to counterbalance). I was quite confident this would work, and we’d be celebrating a pregnancy soon.

Our doctor’s office had me come in last Monday (4 days past transfer) to check my progesterone and estrogen levels (both hormones they have you take to better the chances). Levels came back within normal range, and I was so happy to see that (we almost always have to add more hormones during any pregnancy). On Thursday of that same week, however, it was a different story. My hormone levels dropped and the doctor wanted me to start taking more progesterone. They were still within “normal” range, but both numbers had gone down 50%. Let me tell you, the PTSD set in real quick. With each of our 3 pregnancies, that was the moment things started to go wrong. My hormone levels would drop, so we would start supplementing with more hormones, but eventually it lead to the inevitable. And I’m not saying that’s always the case with everyone – I have heard plenty of stories where women just needed to be on extra hormones and they were fine. But that’s not what history has taught us personally. So I had a total meltdown. This wasn’t going to work.

We were planning to go on a family vacation that next day, and I decided I just couldn’t. My cousin and his wife are pregnant, and I just didn’t think I could bear to sit and look at her pregnant belly all weekend (sorry, but it’s the truth). I had my big pity party, and decided I would rethink it all in the morning.

Friday morning I got up, decided that this just had to work. This had to be our miracle. I was going to remain positive and push through. There were too many people with good feelings about this transfer – it was going to work. We started packing, and decided that we weren’t going to miss another event due to this saga that never seems to end.

When we got home on Sunday, we took a home pregnancy test. Negative. I was sad, but somehow I still held on to hope. I read on the internet of women who got negatives on day 10 (which was where we were) and then went on to have healthy babies. That was going to be us.

Monday morning I had more blood work to check my hormone levels again, and I woke up angry and sad. Somehow I just knew this wasn’t going to work. Side note: I’m sharing all of these daily emotions so you can see just how emotional and hard this can be. The whole day I was just not right. I was sad and anxious, and just had that pit in my stomach. Reid came home from work around 10 a.m. so that I wasn’t home alone.

I went into the bathroom to dig the pregnancy test out of the trash to take a picture (because, you know, that’s what people do). And there it was – a faint line. I couldn’t believe it. Did I miss that yesterday? Or did it get darker after I threw it in the trash? Suddenly, I had hope again. I knew that the line was so faint that it probably wasn’t great news, but I started praying so hard.

A couple hours later, my nurse called and said “we did go ahead and test you (for pregnancy)… your levels are low, but they’re there. Let’s see you again tomorrow and we’ll be able to tell then.” So we’re pregnant… but again we wait and see if the seemingly inevitable will happen once again. I held on to that hope with such a tight grip. For the rest of the day I just kept praying “God, please let this be a healthy baby. Please let my numbers go up. Please let this be a healthy baby.”

Yesterday (Tuesday, 12 days post transfer) I went in for more blood work. And then I tried to keep myself busy until the call came in. My mind would jump from “we’re going to get good news, this is just a slow start” to “don’t be stupid, you know where this is going”.

As I was walking into my acupuncturist’s office around 2:05, my nurse called me. She said “your numbers went down. The doctor wants you to stop taking all of your medication, and he’ll call you this afternoon.” Well, there it is. Another loss. This time a chemical pregnancy, which is just a very early miscarriage.

Pregnancy loss – 4, Healthy babies – 0.

We’re sad and angry, and tired. We are so tired. Tired of being told “not yet”, tired of sharing bad news, and tired of trying to look at the bright side all the damn time. So today (and however many days after I need to), I’m going to just let myself be sad and angry and have a pity party. Because you know what? This f-ing sucks. Really bad. And then we’ll pick ourselves up and keep going.

I know that our friends and family want to support us in the best way possible, and we truly appreciate that. I don't think there is anything that anyone can really do right now, but I will ask that you don't say the words "at least..." or tell me this is part of God's plan. While those things may be meant to be helpful, and may be true, it only hurts to hear them right now. I have a hard time believing God wants to continue putting us through pain.  

We appreciate your support and compassion. We really hoped to share good news with you this week, but this wasn’t the week. I pray (and beg, and plead) that something will break our way soon. I know we’re well overdue for some good news. 

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