Maybe I was right. Maybe we did use up all of our luck already?
Despite the cycle pretty much going to plan, when it came to defrosting our embryos last week it all came tumbling down. We decided to defrost 6 in the end, on the recommendations of the embryologists because we had so many and they wanted to grow them to blastocyst. In reality, when they defrosted them, 4 of them died, 1 lost a cell and 1 looked dodgy. We were so sad but tried to hold it together as we were at work. They decided to defrost the other six.
At this point I was upset because I thought we would get a few tries out of our 12 top quality embryos and now this was it. And it really was it. The new 6 were thawed and at close of play on the Tuesday 3 of them looked good. We had hope. We still didn't know whether they would go for a blastocyst transfer or whether we would be in the next day for day three but they said that they would let us know. They did tell us that we needed to prepare for the fact that they might not make it at all. I spent most of the night in tears.
On Wednesday I'm somehow managed to miss the phone call but I called them back. It wasn't good news. None of the embryos had divided over night like they should have. There were four left. All poor quality. We were devastated. Our embryos, our last shot, Stanley's embryo twins, weren't surviving. I didn't stop crying for most of the day.
We went in for our transfer and the embryologist was lovely. She didn't know why or what had caused them to thaw so badly. The consultant also came to see us. He simply said "I'm so very sorry". It was like the words someone would use if they'd got very bad news. He said that he couldn't explain what had happened, that it was very rare.
I remember feeling anxious and upset at embryo transfer last time because they only let us have one back (Stanley) but that was nothing compared to this. I cried my way into the theatre, comforted by the nurses.
While I was laid down, legs akimbo in the stirrup footrests, a woman was talking to us. I think she was one of them embryologists that we had spoken to but I actually wasn't sure who she was. But she spoke about Stanley, of how they had just looked at the card we sent saying thank you after he was born. She asked to see a picture of him now. It must be amazing for them to see these parents coming back again, showing them the result of their handiwork.
Two embryos were placed inside me. The best of a bad lot. I have a scan picture of my tummy with a cross marking where they were placed. The fear that this could be my last ever abdominal 'baby' scan hit me like a tonne of bricks. M stroked my hair throughout. He did that last time too, I remembered when in theatre.
They now have a big tv screen and we got to see our embryos up close. We have a picture of them. But it felt futile. It doesn't feel like I'll be taking a photo of a baby every year on the 18th July like I have done with Stanley for the past 6 years. It feels like this was their goodbye. That these two embabies have come home to mummy to die in me.
I've felt so desperately sad. The consultant said it would take a small miracle. I already have 2 massive miracle children so another is really pushing it. I have cried so much in this past week or so. Last time I knew how many days past transfer I was every day. Now I can barely work it out. Now I'm 8 days post 3 day transfer (although the embryos were at day 2 cleavage stage).
I've also had a bit of bleeding and spotting so have had to increase my medication and pessaries. It really hasn't been a smooth two week wait. I have to test a week today. I already know the result deep down but it will still be hard to see the lack of a second line on the hospital test. I always thought I'd buy an additional test because last time the hospital one was rubbish. But I won't. It will tell me what I already know.
For now I'll keep shoving the pessaries up my arse and the pills down my throat, if only for another week. I am slightly hopeful every so often that we will be one of the miracle few who have this work like this in these crap circumstances. But I realise that it's not a straw that I'm clutching at here, it's a whisper of a seed from a dandelion, one tiny barb of a feather. I know I'll be devastated on the 2nd of August.
I wrote in one of my newer posts that this was our last shot at completing our family and once the embryos were used up that would be it. But that was before we realised that this wasn't a fair shot. It's not a fair shot if your embryos don't survive the thaw and progress. All 12 of them. So now I'm considering going again already. It's premature, yes. But I need to think about what happens when it fails.
There's been no talking to the embryos from daddy this time. No 'inside cuddles' like we did with Stanley. I've not even been too bothered about eating healthily. I figured that the deal is made. Me eating some chocolate won't change that at all.
Above all, I'm desperately sad. More so because we know what these embryos can become and how amazing they can be. It's probably futile now. They've most likely long since stopped growing (they would have implanted by now if not). But I'm pleading ever so slightly with the tiny embryos that they give life a shot. That they come and be a part of our family.
