You have a container full of empty syringes and used needles from stims. Your belly feels bloated, your mood is unpredictable, you're constantly uncomfortable, and you're counting down the days until the big egg retrieval.
Trigger shot day arrives and your stomach now has butterflies that somehow manage to fit in with the bloat. Forget pants. In fact, in one of your hormonal rages, you may consider burning any and all pants you own.
The day of egg retrieval comes. You prepare for anesthesia. You say a quick prayer that when you wake up, you have as many eggs as they counted follicles.
Post-retrieval, you wake up in a daze - a bit confused and groggy. Luckily, you have someone there not only to drive you home, but to take on the information given to you by the nurse or doctor. And, if you're SUPER fortunate, your companion has recorded you while you come off of your anesthesia. You hear the numbers... and later you try to process them because when you were told, your brain was foggy.
You're given the number of eggs retrieved and how many of those were mature. You hope for a decent number. Here's where things start getting difficult.
Maybe you were given a low number. Immediately some level of panic sets in. Maybe you were given a high number. This may provide some relief to you, but not without at least a little bit of worry in the back of your mind. And maybe the number you got was somewhere in-between. Doesn't matter how many they tell you they retrieved, you feel a mix of excitement and anxiety. Because this is just the first of several reports you will get.
The next day you hold your phone like a teenage girl waiting for a phone call from the cute boy in algebra. You don't even go to the bathroom without it. Each time it buzzes or rings, you nearly jump out of your skin.
Finally the clinic calls. You have a new set of numbers. Now you learn how many of your eggs fertilized. In virtually all cases (I have yet to hear of a case where all eggs fertilized), your new set of numbers is smaller. Your heart drops to your stomach with each report. Number of eggs that fertilized. Number that fertilized normally. And finally, what you have to work with - for now.
And then you wait. You wait until Day 3, in some cases Day 5, to hear your next number. Again... your heart shatters as you learn that the number of viable embryos has once again dropped.
In some cases, there are plenty that made it. In others, there are just a handful - maybe 5 or so. Or, maybe you have just one or two left. And... sadly, there are cases where no embryos made it. You have none left. And it's over. It's the end of this cycle and you feel lost.
Our first cycle we had 13 eggs retrieved. I was hoping this meant we would have 6 embryos make it. On my call after retrieval, I was told 6 were mature and one fertilized normally. One. But, I was assured, "all it takes is one". Which is true.
During our second cycle, we had 17 eggs retrieved, 14 were mature, and two fertilized normally. All it takes is one.
But both times... I was left with no viable embryos. All three arrested on Day 5. And just like that, it was over.
They say, "It just takes one". It's true - you CAN get just one and have a successful cycle and pregnancy. But - as I have experienced - just because you have one or even 10 fertilize does not mean you'll end up having one when it comes time to transfer. And this is why I refuse to say "All it takes is one".
While "It just takes one" is meant to be words of hope and encouragement, I feel like it takes away from the loss that is experienced. The heart-wrenching, gut-punching news you get - all within a week - of your numbers going down... and down... and down. To me, it makes it feel as though I'm not allowed to be worried - that I'm not allowed to or supposed to grieve the loss of the ones that didn't make it. Or the panicked feeling that come Day 5, I'll be left with no embryos.
Even if you make it to transfer... even if you make it to pregnancy... even if you have your baby on your first try using IVF or any other form of ART (assisted reproductive therapy)... none of that negates the losses you felt. You're allowed to grieve those losses. There's no shame in feeling sad about having only 3 embryos when you started with 10. Just because you made it further than the woman who sat next to you in the RE's office doesn't mean that you have any less of a right to feel loss.
You won't hear me say, "It just takes one" when you share your report. Instead, you'll hear this... "I'm sorry, I know how hard it is to hear those numbers go down... I will pray for you and that you get good news in the coming days." Because I know the devastation and hurt. I know the panic. And I know that "It just takes one" brings no comfort to someone who has failed multiple cycles.
So... here's my prayer for you:
I pray God will bring peace to your heart. That He will ease your anxieties. I pray that you will have your answers sooner rather than later. I pray that you have good news on the other end of the phone. And if the news is not what you hoped? I pray that you give yourself permission to grieve - no matter what. Whether you're told you lost just two embryos or 10, I pray that you know that the tears you shed will be caught by a God that has not forgotten you (even though it feels like it).
Love,
Kristy
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