Monday, 9 October 2017

Look at that Embryo!

The day I found out about my infertility was probably one of the worst days of my life. As I explained in a previous post, I sat in the office, listening to the very matter-of-fact doctor tell me about my 6 sperm, five of which were useless, and how there was almost no way I would be able to father a child naturally; the one goal I had in my life at the time. K told a family member later on that she always thought the first time she would see me cry was when our child was born - not in the car outside the doctor's office. Neither of us gave up hope though, and we supported each other through every bit of it.

We did a second embryo transfer over the summer - something we kept secret to allow ourselves a little bit of privacy the second time around. Privacy was important to us for two reasons; it prevented us from having to explain to anybody if it didn’t work, or so that we could surprise people and tell them on our own terms if it did work.  We didn’t want to lie to people, but people generally wanted to know what was happening and weren’t usually shy about asking – so we had to tell them something. Usually it ended up being some kind of vague answer meant to throw them off the scent; “We’re just playing the waiting game” or “We’re saving up for the next transfer”. These answers were usually enough to cut the questions off.
"Look at that Embryo!"

The process for the second transfer was basically the same as the first time, K had to show up with a full bladder and squirm in the waiting room while waiting to see the doctor. Then when the nurse came to get us, we got all dressed up in our hospital gowns and booties before getting escorted to the procedure room. When they showed us the second embryo on the giant screen in that room, I turned to K and said “ Look at that embryo! That’s a good looking embryo. I’ve got a good feeling about that embryo.” Everyone in the room was amused, or at least I was.

The procedure took place the week before my younger brother's bachelor party - a five day camping party so full of debauchery that “epic” is the only word fitting enough to describe it. That said, five days out of cell service while your wife is going through endless terror that something bad will happen with the embryo inside her doesn't make for a supportive situation. So every morning I would wake up and drive to service, to call her and reassure her that everything was going to be okay, a task much easier said than done.

After an excessively long party and a five hour drive home, the first thing I wanted to do was shower - so after unloading all my gear, that's exactly what I did. I was getting dressed when K came into the bedroom and said she wanted to ask me a question - if she could go buy a pregnancy test. I immediately said no because we had agreed prior to the transfer that we weren't going to do any home tests, we were going to wait until the blood test to have confirmation - that way we could prevent any false positives or negatives and in turn stay off the roller coaster ride of emotion. She responded by holding up a test she already took and said "But I want to see if this one is right". I stopped dead in my tracks and stared at the test strip she was holding up for what seemed like 10 full minutes before I looked are her and said "It says yes?" She nodded. "Are you sure?" She nodded again as tears welled up in her big brown eyes. I gave her a soft hug and wiped a tear from my eye, everything we’d been through that year, everything we’d done, all the pain we’d dealt with, the money we’d spent, the extra work we’d put in – even just to have that moment with her, made it all worth it.

Baby at 12 weeks
Baby at 8 weeks
So 8 more home 
pregnancy tests, three blood tests,
two ultrasounds, and several weeks of nausea later, we are happy to announce that K is 12 weeks pregnant, with an expected delivery date of April 20, 2018!