Today we are 2DPT (or days past transfer for anyone new to the IVF lingo). I forgot how difficult this period of waiting was. Before we get to that, though, let’s talk transfer.
Our transfer was the day after Thanksgiving here in the United States – on “Black Friday” (a.k.a. shopping heaven or hell – depending on how much you like deals or dislike people). My sisters and I usually make an early trek out to a few stores to start our holiday shopping, with the exception of last year: as I was busy getting married. This year, our anniversary fell a day later; however, the date of our transfer happened to be another special occasion: my in-law’s wedding anniversary (and odder still, the day we will get our pregnancy test results will be my parent’s wedding anniversary.) I think many people would attribute that to serendipity, but I hope there is something even more special and meaningful behind it all. I hope this process works and we get that good news on a day that’s always been special in my family.)
The second transfer was significantly easier and less painful than the first. We arrived at the clinic an hour ahead of time so that I could have an accupuncture treatment (I had read that it is helpful, and when I asked my clinic about it, they actually said they recommend it and share the name of a local acupuncturist who frequently visits their facility to perform day-of-transfer acupuncture treatments.
The woman we met with was amazing. She brought my wife and I back into the room together for the treatment, called me “love” and “dear” and kept asking if I was warm and comfortable enough. She put the acupuncture needles into my feet, hands, abdomen, forehead, and the top of my head, and explained that it helps to increase blood flow to the uterus and can increase the success rates of IVF by up to 13%. I am pretty skeptical by nature, but since my clinic recommended it (and they are very science/evidence based in their practice) I figured it was worth the $250 we spent on an in-clinic treatment. Afterward, the woman hugged my wife and I, and told us to let her know how our procedure pans out. It was such a loving and warm way to kick off the transfer, and I think it may have been worth it for that hug alone.
The acupuncturist told me ahead of time to stay hydrated the morning of my treatment. The clinic asks you to arrive at the time of your treatment with an uncomfortably full bladder, but since you have an hour of acupuncture ahead of the actual procedure, they suggest going to the bathroom on arrival and then making sure to drink throughout the procedure so that it’s filled again for the transfer.
Long story short: the receptionist ended up having to give me about 4 cups to continue letting out a little at a time while I waited for my actual transfer to start, as I was apparently too hydrated. I kept only going a little at a time as I was afraid to go into the transfer with a bladder that wasn’t full enough (and the receptionist gave me a few evil glances when I kept asking for cups and assured me that I’d be scolded by the doctor), but when I got up on the table to start the transfer, the doctor told me that it was still too full and that she couldn’t get a good read, so she asked me to go again, and I was literally SO comfortable after that, after having sat with a painfully full bladder for about 30 minutes prior to the procedure starting. I guess I am also used to the range of tools that pry open, poke, and prod my lady parts as I watched this entire procedure (unlike the last time when I couldn’t bare to do anything but wince in pain and barely glance up at any of the images) including the beautiful image of my hatching 5AB embryo after having been fully re-hydrated after spending a few months in the freezer. I could make out every part of the ultrasound screen: my bladder, my uterus (and the lining) and even the catheter going in, and eventually the tiny embryo flashing out at the tip. It was magical compared to the last experience.
Lesson: they tell you to have a painfully full bladder, but literally: a glass of water should do the trick. My pain was totally unnecessary as I was able to walk in completely comfortable once my bladder was the size they actually wanted it to be.
After the procedure, we went to lunch (we ate in the car so I could recline a bit and stay warm), and then I went home to nap on the couch, do a little online shopping, and finally go over to see my parents, sisters, my nieces, and even my cousin and her daughter who are currently living with my parents. It was a really nice night surrounded by family.
As we were getting ready to leave my parents house, I asked my 2-year-old niece if I could have a hug. She usually ignores me or tells me “no” but she ran up with a huge smile and flew into my arms, and I was so caught off guard by her spontaneous affection that I stood up with her in my arms and hugged her tightly. As soon as I assumed the standing position, I remembered my clinic discharge paperwork about not lifting anything heavy, and I looked at my wife and waited to be scolded (she really makes sure I follow all of the orders) and I went home afterward and cried – thinking I may have just cost us the entire procedure because of an unexpected hug. My wife comforted me as I fell asleep crying (I’ve been more emotional than normal these last two weeks anyway, but was pretty hysterical on Friday night). I asked my nurse about it in the morning when the clinic called to check up on me and she told me that she wouldn’t think twice about it. She said that the instructions are important, but when it comes to lifting she said it was more important for women coming out of retrievals due to the size of their ovaries and potential to injure themselves. She said that the microscopic embryo is well protected in my uterus and that I shouldn’t worry about picking up a two-year-old one time.
Has anyone else ever messed up their orders or done anything you thought was going to jeopardize your procedure? What did you do?
After my first transfer, I felt very light period-like cramps in the middle of my abdomen around the time I was going to bed the day after my procedure, and they came and went periodically in the two weeks that followed. So I have been cautiously watching and waiting for those cramps, while also reminding myself that this could feel different and that every attempt may not yield the same symptoms for the same person. (No cramps, yet). It’s just so incredibly hard not to compare, and it’s basically impossible not to worry everyday: especially after the last time.
After the cramping commenced the last time, I also got really sore breasts – another symptom that hasn’t kicked in yet, this time.
All I’ve really had this time is some light abdominal aches and pains, but I don’t know if it’s implantation, gas, or even just my hopeful imagination.
My wife is very against taking a home test this time, due to the last outcome (we tested early, got a faint positive, got really excited, and then got a low initial beta followed by an eventual miscarriage). I am on the fence – part of me thinks it will help to ease my unsettled mind and/or help manage my expectations, but another part of me knows very well that it could crush me. We will likely end up waiting (just another week at this point) for the actual results from the clinic.
It’s just so hard: part of me wants to hope and dream, and get excited (and I do) and another part of me is so jaded by what happened, and fearful of an outright failure of this cycle altogether, that I know that hope will only lead to a more heartbreaking end, if this does – in fact – end negatively. It’s SO HARD not to think that way.
In the meantime, I have one last work trip that I leave for in two days, so I am going to try to let that distract me and get through the week and take the clinic test on my parent’s anniversary and hope/pray for good news.
We welcome any extra hopes and prayers.
This is working. This embryo is growing. This is going to be good.