The deed is done.
The babe is in place.
And now, we wait.
For 12 long days.
I was admittedly a pile of nerves this morning. On the verge of a breakdown last night when I couldn’t get my internet to work (because it’s possible I may have a slight addiction), I finally took it as a sign that I should probably get a good night’s sleep and I went down earlier than I have this entire trip.
Of course, I woke up at 1, 3 and 5 - so I’m not sure how much good that early bedtime did me.
At 8 I got up and showered and tried to talk myself into the fact that today was the day I would get pregnant…
Or, not really talk myself into it, but convince myself of it.
You see, this is all still very surreal for me. I go back and forth between being totally aware and having to remind myself what I’m doing here.
I am the first to admit that it is a bizarre course of events.
I followed my instructions though. Ate and drank as normal, then voided at 10:00 (because for some reason medical instructions like to use the word “void”). Then I drank 24 ounces of water and did not void again. I checked out of the hotel and drove to the clinic, oddly aware of the fact that no one was congratulating me on my impending pregnancy.
Didn’t these strangers in the elevator know what I was about to embark on?
When I got to the clinic I stripped down and bared my very full bladder to the ultrasound tech.
Which was unfortunately too full. I was allowed to void.
But only a cups worth. One cup of voiding, and then back on the table.
Have you ever really had to pee, but been forced to stop yourself half way?
It isn't easy.
The embryologist came and spoke to me, carrying with her the most beautiful picture I’ve ever seen.
She said that all 3 embryos were still thriving. Still striving. Still surviving.
And she said they were all good quality.
Given that, it was her suggestion that I only implant 1. She said the other two should hopefully make it to blast stage for freezing, but that I wouldn’t know for sure until Sunday.
In her opinion though, implanting 1 good embryo was the best bet.
And to be honest, I just wasn’t up for making anymore decisions. I wasn’t up for second guessing myself.
She said they were all good quality, and so I agreed to her plan.
I know there are those who have been pulling for twins for me, and to be honest; I have been too. But in that moment, one seemed like enough. In that moment, one seemed right.
And assuming both of the remaining embies make it on ice, there could still be twins in my future.
But for now, I want to focus all the love and attention and goodness I can onto this one.
The one that was then placed in a catheter and transferred to my uterus.
The one that I watched as it found its way.
The one that I know was meant for me.
After the procedure (which took all of 5 minutes and was completely painless), I lay on the table listening to a timer for the requisite 10 minutes with my feet in the air.
I prayed. And I thought. And I talked to that little embie inside of me.
I promised that I would be a good mommy. That I would sacrifice all and love it with everything I had. That it would always know how wanted and adored it was if it would just find its way into this world.
When the timer went off, I gingerly stepped off the table. I dressed, and then made my way to the bathroom to void for real this time.
Anxious throughout the entire process (against my better logic) that my little embie might just fall out.
I know this isn’t possible of course. In fact, my doctor has told me over and over again that this baby is either going to stick or it isn’t; that nothing I do at this point will change that outcome. He has assured me that bed rest after transfer isn’t necessary, and that people go on to run marathons after getting pregnant the natural way. Why would this be any different? That embryo is tucked away and it is either going to decide to stay for a while or it isn’t, but my actions from here on out won’t affect the outcome.
Still… I have to admit I’m pretty sure I’ve been waddling ever since.
And I’ve been trying to pass off having my pants unbuttoned.
I just don’t want it to get too squished in there.
I don't want it to be uncomfortable and think it isn't welcome.
And now, we wait. I need to make an appointment for a blood draw on the 27th. 12 days. 12 days of not really knowing what is going on inside of me. 12 days of wishing and hoping and praying.
12 days.
I’m at the airport and heading home. I’ve told my job I will be back in the office tomorrow. I have laundry and cleaning and socializing to do. I have a life which is waiting for me to return.
And 12 days to kill until I find out if that life is about to become the one I so desire.
ADSPACE
