Will be a Day 5 transfer!

I didn’t realize that I was going to receive the call this morning (I thought it would come tomorrow) but at 8:30 a.m. RBA called while I was lying in bed with progesterone gel gelling (yep, switched from PIO! Last thing I do before sleep at night, first thing I do in the morning, and I then I wait a half hour before getting up so that the gel can do its sticking inside).  “You are definitely on for a Day 5 transfer,” the nurse said, and then: “Oh, and it looks like you’ve got 6 fertilized eggs here, so that’s really good.”

Grinning then, grinning now. Thank you, universe! I won’t know til day of transfer how many frozen embryos we will end up with, but what I do know for sure right now is that at least 3 of the embryos so far are of indistinguishable excellent quality (this I learned from the powerpoint RBA gave me when I first researched the program). If there were only 2, they would have done a Day 3 transfer. So there’s got to be at least 3 in the running right now.

Safe territory. “How do you feel?” said DH, in bed, smiling over at me.

“Secure,” I said. And he kissed me.

Then we had a conversation about the nature of longing for a child. DH is trying to connect with this overwhelming longing I have had for years and years. I tried to explain to him that the longing is different now. The longing began in my late teens, coursed strongly through my twenties, and was extra-fierce during my mid-thirties all the way up through probably around my second miscarriage. But the third miscarriage changed something. I had to dull the longing or, I felt, I just wouldn’t survive. When I talk about dulling it, ignoring, it, trying to turn it off as much as I can, I always cry. It brings up such a feeling of sadness in me. “So I’m still sort of there somewhat,” I said. “The longing is like a little green plant underground that is just now tentatively beginning to break the surface of the soil with its little leaves—but it is still scared that it’s not the right time to reach for the sun.” He wanted to know about the physical sensation of wanting a child, and we talked about my wanting to hold something in my arms, the distinct sensation of absence. He said that it sounds just like he felt before he met me. “I was lonely for you before I even met you,” he said. (I know. Swoon.) He said he used to curl into a fetal position in bed, longing to hold, and feeling deeply lonely. He doesn’t have a longing for a child in that same way, but he says he just knows that once it becomes actual, feelings will grow.

Last night, on our way back from Athens (I’ll have to write about our trip there—wonderful!) DH talked about some of his fears, when it comes to parenting. I was surprised to learn that so many of them were inspired by dystopic visions of the future—water shortages, war, global warming, famine! My Buddha-boy worries, and he realizes that his worries don’t square with the teachings he practices, but he worries all the same. “I think we are actually living in a pretty safe time,” I said gently. “Every generation has its challenges, but I don’t actually think ours is in especial danger.”

We might be off to the Aquarium now. We skipped it yesterday because the city was crazy-hot and crazy-crowded. I’ll write more soon with a description of “things to do” for those of you readers who are thinking about making an ART pilgrimage here someday.

Grow, babies, grow!

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9 Comments

  1. Congrats! That is wonderful news!

    My longing to have a child can also be described as emotional and physical. My husband deeply wants a child too, but I don’t think he feels the longing in the same way either. It’s hard to describe to him why even talking about it used to bring me to tears. I can say that being pregnant has already gone a long way towards healing this wound. I still worry (especially on my days where I am spotting) but I have a deeper sense of hope and peace now that I can see a light at the end of the dark tunnel that is the repeated emotional battering of infertility.

    And I’m glad you enjoyed Athens. We did too. We walked around and had great veggie food and browsed the little shops. Creating an IVF tour guide to the Atlanta area is a good idea!

    Isn’t the Crinone SO much easier?? Though I was never told to lie down after doing it, so that’s interesting. I just did it around 8 pm, and went about my normal evening (often did it in the middle of preparing dinner) and then when I got up, after my shower and before rushing off to work.

    Can’t wait to hear how Wednesday goes- enjoy your time till then, as much as possible. Can you believe it, this very, very likely will really work out!!!

    Reply
    • Yes, I haven’t even gone to transfer and already I am sneezing some of that healing—I feel less strain, somehow, even though nothing is certain. It’s just that something good has happened, and nothing good has happened (when it comes to pregnancy) in so long that I’ve been conditioned to expect the very worst. We LOVED Athens. Atlanta…mmm, not so much. But Athens was exactly the sort of town I dig. We went to The Grit for great vegetarian. That is really interesting about the Crinone—yeah, she was very adamant that it be the “very last” thing I do before going to sleep (no getting up to go the bathroom) and that I give the gel some time gel for at least half an hour on my back each morning. Crinone is the way to go—I don’t need to traumatize myself. After that crazy shot experience (perhaps I hit my sciatic nerve?) I don’t know how I could have done it without nearly passing out, just the thought of what that felt like makes me queasy. Thanks for your words of encouragement and I’ll definitely keep you posted!

      Reply
  2. Awesome news! And I can’t wait to hear about your trip to Athens (I live there)! Hoping that all of your precious embryos continue to do well!

    Reply
  3. Great news!! BEST of luck, I’ll be stalking for updates!! :)

    Reply

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