When in Doubt, Cut it Out

I decided, since I have enough sperm in the bank to do seven rounds of IVF, (and since I'll never be able to afford that many rounds anyway) that it would be prudent to follow up with my surgeon again about having ol' Lefty (my left testicle) removed, or as the formal surgery is called, an orchiectomy. I wanted to be absolutely sure I was making the right decision so I did my research before my appointment. What I learned was initially reassuring, but the further I went down the rabbit hole of self diagnosis, the more worried I became. I learned that ol' Lefty was so much bigger than ol' Righty, not because ol' Lefty was big, but because ol' Righty was small.

My actual birthday card from my work team.

It is noted in a previous chapter that I had a correction surgery for an undescended testicle on the left side when I was a child and that this was the suspected cause of my infertility. In my search for certainty I found out that my right side also had an issue which was something called a "retractile testicle". This basically means my right nut moves freely and painlessly between the scrotum and the abdomen. I always thought this little mutation was cool because I was able to freak out any girl I was with by making my right nut disappear like a freak-show act from a travelling circus. Unfortunately, this also meant that my right side could be the culprit for my issues, and this concerned me. When a testicle is surgically removed, as a general rule, the remaining testicle makes up for the loss by switching into overdrive and bumping up its sperm and testosterone production. I wasn't worried about it not making up for my sperm production - I had enough sperm frozen for a lifetime of fertility treatments - but living with low testosterone was something I was positive I didn't want.


I read all about testosterone replacement therapy. The creams that make you grow hair at the application site, or the daily injections for the rest of your life, or the risk of growing boobs, or even an increased risk of getting cancer. Teenage me probably wouldn't have minded having boobs for a day or two, but I don't think future me would have the same appreciation for them. What it came down to for me though was that I would be having surgery as a preventative measure of getting cancer, only to possibly have to go on hormone therapy which could actually cause cancer. It seemed to me like I was being chased, but I was running in the wrong direction - and none of these decisions were good options. I decided to reserve my decision until I followed up with my doctors.

When I saw my family doctor, she was awesome, and encouraging. She explained that the way she understood it, only my sperm production should be affected, and since I was very masculine looking with facial hair and a muscular build, I shouldn't be worried about a small drop in testosterone production if that was the case. In her words - "when in doubt, cut it out". She did, however, encourage me to ask my surgeon to make sure. I saw my surgeon shortly after, who said that as far as she knew, there is no test to see which testicle is the problem and that removal is a risk, especially given my issues with both sides, even for my testosterone production. She was very empathetic to my situation and offered me an alternative; observation. She explained that I would have alternating MRIs and Ultrasounds every six months for two years, following which I would have an MRI every year after that. This way, if something did grow back, they could catch it before it became a problem.

After a little bit of discussion, I opted for door number two and I left the surgeon's office with renewed comfort from the decision I had made. Although, I must admit, I was slightly disappointed that I wouldn't be able to make all the "balls of steel" jokes I had planned for my post-prosthetic surgery.

I Don't Know You

I don't know you, but I know I love you,

And I can't really explain why.

It doesn't make any sense, I've never even met you,

But something inside me says I have to try.

So I keep on pushing, and saving, and working hard,

To make this dream come true.

And every setback, every loss, every failed attempt,

Crushes me and pushes me further from you.

They said I'd probably never meet you,

They said you might never exist.

But there was still a chance and I couldn't stand by,

So we got put on the waiting list.

I thought the waiting was the hardest part,

Worse than the drugs, the needles, and all the tests.

But what really hurt was the heartache I felt,

Every time I thought of you, deep in my chest.

All I want is to be a proud father,

And to make you proud of me.

To help you, and guide you, and watch you grow up,

Into the man or woman you're meant to be.

But it seems so far away these days,

Like it's over and done, and washed away.

At this point I'd do anything,

But it's out of my hands, it's not up to me, all I can do is pray.

I know I love you, but I don't know you,

But I'll get my chance someday.

To teach you to run and jump, and to make you laugh,

It can't be that far away.

So I'll keep on pushing, and saving, and working hard,

So that I can be there for you.

After all, you're my heart and my soul,

The last part that's missing, the final piece to make me whole.

Calling All Storks

The day of transfer was exciting. I got up before my alarm and basically jumped out of bed. I was exhausted, but mostly because I was so excited to do the transfer the following day that I couldn't get to sleep. When I finally did drift off, I had dreams that we were late for the transfer and we lost our embryo, which then woke me up terrified and scrambling for my phone to check the time - only another 5 hours till I have to wake up, then 4, then 3, and on and on, dream after dream until I finally got up for real.

I stumbled into the shower to wash up, but really was only allowed to rinse off. We were told that perfume or cologne can damage the embryo, so to be safe, I passed on the shampoo, the body wash, the deodorant and the cologne - I was determined not to screw this up. Kay also got ready, which included downing a jug of water (they wanted her bladder to be full to allow for a smooth transfer of the embryo into her uterus). I was concerned by this because I know what Kay is like when she has to pee (ragey), and I know how much liquid is required to make her pee (a teaspoon), neither of which were working in my favor. Nevertheless, she drank the obligatory water and we were on our way. We made a stop for caffeine, but wanting to be as cautious as possible, ended up calling the clinic to ask if caffeine was okay on the day of transfer - it wasn't, and Kay watched me drink my coffee with resentment while her tea got cold.



Kay in the "ready room"

In no time, we were sitting in the front room of the clinic waiting for the nurse to come and get us, and staring at all the separate pieces of décor that resembled embryos. I'm not kidding, the area rug had white polka dots, the light fixture was a giant white egg, and the wall behind the reception desk was covered in what looked like splitting cells - it's hard for me to say whether this was comforting or a slap in the face, but it was definitely a fitting theme. The nurse finally came and got us and the receptionist wished us luck. We were brought into the same room that the retrieval took place and Kay was given clothes to change into again, but this time, so was I. I dutifully pulled the booties over my feet, put the hairnet over my head, and put the gown on, this time doing a much better job than when I had my "balltrasound". Then I proceeded to do a photo shoot of myself and Kay in our sterile clothes, the whole time thinking of the future conversation I'd have with my kids explaining my own version of "the birds and the bees" (seriously though, if someone could explain the birds and the bees thing to me that would be great, because I never understood the relationship of birds and bees to the act of procreation).

Our Embryo

Following our photo shoot the embryologist came in to tell us what we had waited all week to hear - we had lost our outlier overnight and our final embryo count was down from six embryos to five. We were disappointed but too excited to be bummed out for too long and we made the decision to be happy that we ended up with five. The embryologist reinforced this attitude by telling us that with the number we started with falling from sixteen to seven on the first day, she only expected two or three to make it to the last day, so we actually did quite well! She told us she had selected the highest grade embryo for transfer that day and she would be happy to let us take a picture of it when we moved into the procedure room. The procedure room was the standard room with the table and stirrups, but with a big T.V. screen on the wall already showing a huge picture of our tiny little embryo. I snapped a couple photos of it while the excitement and stress, which reminded me of watching the Oilers playoff games, built up in my chest and Kay's bladder got ready to burst. The doctor had a quick look, but then sent Kay to the bathroom to "let a little bit out" since her bladder was actually too full - there she goes again; over-achieving.

The procedure after that was super fast, and much like the natural act, took literally 10 minutes; they inserted the catheter, squeezed through the embryo, checked the line to make sure it went in, and then printed us out this nifty little picture of Kay's uterus. The doctor, the nurse, and the embryologist all wished us luck before sending us on our way - Kay was worried for a few minutes that it might fall out if she got up, but the doctor assured us that wasn't a thing, although from the way she was walking for the first few minutes I have my doubts that she was entirely convinced - but it also could have been that her bladder was extremely full and the bathroom was occupied by another patient when we came out of the procedure room.

The little white spot just right of center is where the embryo is.

Once we had completed the transfer, our next task was to somehow make it nine days till Kay's blood test to check if she was pregnant without losing our minds. The first two days were a breeze, we were full of excitement, anticipation, and positivity. The next two days brought on some intense cramping for Kay but she endured, not really able to take much of anything for the pain. She was worried and made two or three phone calls to the clinic but was assured it was all normal. She, of course, became a Google warrior at this time and made sure she read the opinions and symptoms listed by people on virtually every fertility forum on the internet, in one minute reassuring herself that things were working, and the next minute worrying that it wasn't going to work.

I banned Kay from taking any pregnancy tests because I knew that taking one so early was essentially meaningless - especially since the earlier it was, the more likely it was that it would show up with a false positive because of all the HCG (pregnancy hormone) still in her body from IVF. On day 6, however, Kay convinced me to let her take one, and it showed up negative - which basically brought on a meltdown while I tried to console her and reassure her that there was still a possibility she was pregnant since it was still too early. Eventually she was okay, but was pretty much convinced that there was no way she was pregnant. Kay does what she wants (she gets that from me), and against my advice, she took another on day 7, which that morning showed as negative. Later in the day, however, a very faint line showed up on both the day 6 & 7 tests (Kay keeps them for comparison) - and she got excited again - but then day 8's test was entirely and completely negative - leading Kay to the conclusion that the transfer didn't stick.

These ups and downs are probably the toughest part of the entire process - except for hearing the word "negative" in relation to a pregnancy test, which is what happened on day 9 when Kay went in for her official blood test. When you're trying to get pregnant naturally, anything could have happened, but knowing that you've done every possible thing that can be done, makes it so much more difficult. We know there was a good quality egg, we know it fertilized, and we know it was where it needed to be, it just didn't happen. It wasn't just anti-climactic, it was heartbreaking, but all we can really do is pick ourselves up, muster up a little more hope, and try again.

White Knuckled & Worn

The five day embryo maturation process felt like the longest five days of my life. As I stated in my previous post, we had a confirmed 16 eggs gathered during the retrieval procedure and we were ecstatic - we couldn't be happier. When we got home from the procedure, I closed up the blinds in the spare room (Kay's nest, as she calls it) and made sure she had food, lots of water, Gatorade (hydration helps prevent OHSS (Ovarian Hyper-Stimulation Syndrome), and her cell phone. Then I left her to watch "her Dean" on Supernatural and drift in and out of sleep over the course of the day. While Kay was resting I spent the day worrying about the daily phone calls we would get over the next five days. I also worried about her having side effects, about losing all our eggs, about the eggs not fertilizing, pretty much every bad thing I could think of happening. I was excited too though and these mixed emotions had me spinning.

Day 1
The next day we awaited our first dreaded phone call. On the day of retrieval, our eggs were graded in maturity and those that were mature enough to be fertilized, would be. Which means that day two they would be telling us how many of our 16 eggs were mature enough, and how many of those fertilized. The embryologist called Kay that morning and explained that of the 16 eggs that were retrieved, only seven were mature enough to move on to the fertilization process, but that of those seven, we had a 100% fertilization rate. It was a jagged pill to swallow that we had just spent two months, and basically all of our savings, to end up with seven embryos after the first day. We were heartbroken.

Day 2
It was so hard to not focus on the nine eggs that were not mature enough. We waited impatiently for our second call the next day, holding on tight and ready for anything, well almost anything. If they had told us that day that we lost half our embryos, I think we might have lost all hope, but they didn't. On day two the embryologist called and informed us that on a scale from grade 1 to 4 (one being the best and four being the opposite), we had five - class 2 and 3 embryos, one - class 4 embryo, and one embryo had been lost overnight when it turned abnormal. We had moved from 16, to 7, and now down to 6.

Day 3
We were now terrified that there wouldn't be any viable embryos left; they still had to make it to day five to be viable, and day three was the turning point for most people. We were told that a normal rate of attrition for embryos after day three was 25 to 40%! - in short, we were losing our shit. Kay shed many tears between our day two call and our day three call. We started planning for the worst - what would we do if we didn't have any viable embryos left over? Would we do another round of IVF? If so, how were we going to pay for it? All these thoughts were racing through my mind when I left for work that morning, and I waited for the call all morning. When Kay finally called, I picked up the phone and my hand was shaking. All I said was, "So?" Then I realized Kay was crying but before I could say anything she said "We still have 6!" - they all had made it, and Kay's tears, were tears of joy and relief. I was elated.

Day 4
Since we had already been through the toughest part of the maturation process I wasn't all that worried about day four. I breezed through day three and chose to focus on all the good things. I was really starting to get excited for transfer day; just thinking about it put a smile on my face. The thought of making that last trip to the clinic to finally meet our goal and potentially see our dreams come true was too exciting to ignore. That morning we got our day four call from the embryologist, Kay again called me at work to tell me we still had six total embryos! At this stage, we had four grade 2 embryos, one grade 3 embryo, and one embryo that was not yet mature enough to assign a grade to but was still developing.

The relief that we felt after day four and moving into day five was huge. I honestly felt like I'd been holding my breath for a week and I was finally able to relax. We didn't get as many embryos as we had expected, but we potentially did get enough to have as many children as we wanted. Although, depending on who you ask that number changes, I say I want five, Kay says she wants three, but everyone tells me I'll change my mind after the first one. During Kay's mini breakdown before day three I'm pretty sure I heard her mention that she didn't care how many embryos we ended up with, she would keep having kids as long as we had embryos left - maybe it was the hormones, but I'll hold on to hope that it wasn't.

How Would You Like Your Eggs?

I can't say enough about the resilience of my incredible wife; she has been a champ through this entire process. On top of dealing with this crap all on her own, she has had to deal with my insecurities as well. It's been difficult for me to push away this feeling of being a sperm donor being as my job is basically just to show up and make a deposit. Relinquishing the thought of making a baby the natural way has removed any feeling of a connection to the process for me. Kay has recognized the difficulty for me and has worked very hard to include me as closely as possible in the process.

As you read in her previous post, the IVF process required 3-4 self-administered injections per day. Kay was at work for the first injection she had to give herself and in an effort to include me, she made me a video. It included a lot of focused breathing and counting to three several times over while she gathered the courage to stick herself in the belly with her needle full of hormones. I don't think I explained to her how much this video meant to me but it truly did wonders to shorten the distance I felt from Kay's journey.

She took this even further the day she allowed me to administer one of her injections. One of the medications she had to take needed to be mixed prior to use, caused a burning sensation, and had a larger needle. Understandably, she didn't let me administer that injection, but she did allow me to give her the "space needle", because all it required was twisting the controller knob to the correct dose, slowly sticking it into her skin, and pushing down the plunger with my thumb. The level of trust it must have taken for Kay to allow me to do this really confirms for me that we're meant to be together - especially since my hands are prone to shaking when I'm doing fine tasks that require a high level of dexterity.

When she couldn't take a video or let me participate, she would send me emails outlining her day leading up to and explaining her appointments in vivid detail. She would tell me what the doctors were like, how she felt going into the appointments, and the results of tests that she had taken. Communicating isn't a difficult thing to do but it's something that is easy to overlook and the care she took in making me a part of this whole process truly meant the world to me. Although my level of participation in the planning of my wedding might suggest otherwise, I am not a "tell me when to show up" kind of person; I want to be involved and included, and I want to make decisions. Any idiot can provide a sperm sample, it takes something more to be a father - and that's what Kay gave back to me.

After all the injections, and ultrasounds, and blood tests, and appointments, and discomfort, the time finally came for the egg retrieval. We were scheduled for retrieval on a Monday so I had to take that day off work because Kay wouldn't be able to drive due to Fentanyl sedation. She was a little nervous because of this, but I was confident she would breeze through it. We made the all too familiar drive to the downtown clinic and didn't say much for the whole ride. When we got there we sat patiently in the waiting room for the nurse to call us in. When she did, I asked if I should come too, and she said "Yes of course, you're an equally important part of the equation" which put a big smile on my face and definitely calmed my nerves a little bit.

We were led to a room at the far back part of the clinic and Kay was given a pile of clothes and directed to the change room. She came out wearing a gown, a housecoat, a hairnet and some slippers seriously looking like she was wearing a bed and could lay down and fall asleep anywhere. The nurse came in and took Kay's vitals and then the embryologist came in to tell us the process. She would take Kay in and then shortly after another nurse would come and get me so that I could provide my sample which would be used to fertilize the eggs retrieved. They took Kay away and then, as promised, another nurse came to escort me to Andrology. I turned in my last sample, hoping that all my healthy eating, no-booze, exercising, and ball-icing had paid off, and then returned to the waiting room.

I didn't have to wait too long before they came to tell me Kay was in recovery and I could come sit with her. When I got there I was reminded of my surgery that seemed to kick everything off, but in reverse. Kay was drifting in and out of sleep when I sat down beside her bed, she looked at me briefly and said very slowly, "I'm glad you're here, and I want to talk to you, but my words are very heavy." Then she fell asleep again. About a minute later she woke up and said with a very confused look on her face, "Am I wearing a hairnet?", I replied, "No" and she mumbled something about someone taking it off of her before drifting off to sleep again. I sat there for a while behind the curtain, feeling guilty again that she had to go through all of this, when she woke up and looked me straight in the face and said "Am I wearing a hairnet?". I couldn't help but laugh and she was a little put off, but eventually put together that she had asked me the same question about a minute earlier.

The embryologist came in and told us that she did extremely well; she managed to collect 16 eggs and the sperm sample I provided was the highest count yet (about 330K), definitely enough to use to fertilize all the eggs. She told us that she would call us the next day and let us know how many eggs had fertilized to become embryos, and that she would call every day after that  to let us know how many had lasted each day of the maturation process. Once Kay was fully awake we were told we could go. I helped Kay get dressed and escorted her to the car knowing full well that the next week was going to be a very difficult one.

Know When To Hold 'Em

I was recently speaking to a friend who asked me how she should broach the subject of discussing fertility issues with people, which is something that I've thought a lot about since I started writing this blog. Prior to going live and letting basically everyone I know into the most intimate parts of my life I sent an email out to my whole family giving them a summary of what I had been going through, something only my immediate family had been privy to up until that point. I included a link to what I had written so far and offered to answer any questions anybody might have. Of all the emails I sent out, I received back one text message from my cousin offering his support. At first I was hurt and angry; at the time there were a lot of emotions swirling around in my head and I didn't really know where to land. It took me a while to reconcile those emotions and the only way I was able to was by taking a minute to understand where they were coming from.

I come from a semi-private family; and by that I mean they don't want to talk about issues like mine - but they want to know that I'm okay. It's a level of comfort reserved for old-school traditional families - at least mine anyway. The kind of openness it takes to write a blog and tell everyone the experience you had while masturbating into a cup is far beyond the side-conversations prying for information that my family is used to. After I sent out my email to my family, I had expected a bombardment, but what I should have expected is quiet concern, which is what I got, and looking back, meant a whole lot more to me. To my family, it's not your words that show your concern and your love for someone, its your actions - so keeping quiet was their way of respecting my privacy.

What I learned is that if you're looking for support, you need to ask for it. That said, when you're looking for information the principle is the same, but there are a few things that you need to remember.

Everyone is different and so is their journey. There are some people that don't want to talk about their struggle at all, and there are people like myself and K who talk incessantly about our ordeal. This means that when approaching the subject with someone dealing with infertility, you could end up with more than you bargained for, so be concise with your question. For example, if you were to ask me what step we're at in the process, what you're probably meaning to ask is "is she pregnant yet?" but by wanting to be sensitive, you now have an explanation of the actual entire process of IVF on your hands. Why? Because for the most part, in order to understand what step we're in, we likely have to explain the entire process to you which will probably include a list of side discussions required to define certain terms.

There are also many people that have gone through loss, and people that found out they would never even be able to experience that - and every one of those people deals with those situations differently.
So there is a level of sensitivity that you will have to show but if you want to know something - ask. Trust me, if they're not comfortable talking about it, they will tell you that. Keeping that in mind, think about the question before you ask it. Kay had an encounter with a co-worker that consisted of him asking her "Are you ready to deal with your first pregnancy basically being a write-off?" - Kay was confused and asked him what he meant, so he said "You know that most women's first pregnancies result in miscarriage don't you?" I mean, the guy was obviously misinformed, but his message was not the problem. It's the fact that he is asking a woman, who is already having difficulty conceiving, if she is ready to lose her first baby. Dude, the answer is no, and also, no -you idiot. He got off lucky because Kay is not the burst-into-tears-at-work-at-shit-said-by-morons kind of person, but most women, would not have been so understanding.

I think it's also important to mention that unless you're asking for it, it's not your responsibility to navigate the feelings of a person dealing with infertility. Doing so is difficult at that best of times and downright impossible for most others, so in my opinion somebody dealing with infertility shouldn't be making you walk on eggshells around them all the time. If they are, you need to lay your cards on the table and tell them that straight up, but be mindful and supportive when you do it.

How Do You Even "IVF"?

Hi guys! Kay here, get comfortable, you're about to do some learning. Lefty and I have received an overwhelming amount of love and support during our journey to parenthood. So many of our family and friends are so invested in this process, it’s like having our own personal little cheer squad. People also have a lot of questions – after all, IVF isn’t really an everyday topic for a lot of people. This post is going to be a bit of an overview of the process, based on the most frequently asked questions we receive. I do not claim to be an expert, this is just the information I’ve gathered from my research, others going through the process, and some of the staff at the clinic we go to.

IVF refers to the overall $10k process of injecting medications, retrieving eggs, fertilizing them, and growing them in petri dishes for 3-6 days.  FUN FACT: “In Vitro” means “in glass”, so basically, fertilization in a glass petri dish! IVF usually starts with some sort of diagnosis - male infertility, female infertility, or sometimes, unexplained infertility. Of course there are other circumstances such as same-sex couples, or genetic abnormalities, but the idea is the same: we want a baby and we can’t make one the fun way. The doctor overseeing the process is called an “RE” or “Reproductive Endocrinologist”. They make the magic happen.

Photo from: Etsy shop ChiefAndLily

Testing

There is whole bunch of tests anyone contributing any genetic material (read: sperm and eggs) must go through prior to starting fertility treatments. Both/all parties will be tested for an array of Sexually Transmitted Infections, to rule out any “simple” issues caused by something caught during those questionable years in Uni.

Men will undergo:

Semen analysis: (usually several) to assess morphology, concentration, and motility of the little swimmers. If you’re lucky, you can freeze some like we did “just in case” you need it later.

Testing for genetic abnormalities: such as cystic fibrosis, which often causes men to be born without their vas deferens (the little tube that the sperm use to…escape), or XXY syndrome, where a man has an extra copy of the X chromosome which can cause infertility.

Women will undergo:

Blood tests to assess several hormone levels (AMH, FSH): these levels give a good indication of egg quality and reserve (basically, what you’re working with).

Sonohysterogram: a small tube is run through the cervix and saline is injected into the uterus while being viewed on ultrasound to check for any issues with the inside of the uterus, such as fibroids (little tumors made of muscle) or irregular shape of the uterus.

AFC count: this counts your base level follicles (fluid fills “cysts” on the ovaries that contain eggs, usually 1 egg per follicle) on each ovary, to give an indication of how many eggs you can reasonably expect with stimulation.

(There are many more, but I’m only going to talk about what we have gone through, because I have no personal experience with the others.)

Once all the testing is done, and the decision is made to do IVF, you can plan on forking over roughly $10k. Sorry future children, hope you didn’t want to go to college!

Suppression

The woman then goes on some form of suppression (birth control or injectable hormones) to suppress and quiet the ovaries, so that all the follicles can grow at the same rate once they begin stimulation.

Stimulation

Once the woman’s ovaries have been suppressed for 21-35 days, ovarian stimulation begins. Stimulation, or stimming, refers to the daily injection of hormones to promote the growth of multiple follicles/eggs. This phase has to line up with a woman’s natural cycle, so there can be some waiting involved. This includes every-other day (or every day) internal ultrasounds and blood tests to assess hormone levels and follicle size.  

Trigger

Doctors like most follicles to reach 17mm before they “trigger” them to release. The trigger is usually a large dose of HCG (pregnancy hormone) and is injected to promote the maturation of the eggs and the release of the eggs within the follicles. Once triggered, the eggs detach from the inner walls of the follicle and float around inside for about 44 hrs (which would be the upper limit of time).

Retrieval

This step is done by using an ultrasound guided probe to insert a needle through the back wall of the vagina into each ovary to aspirate (suck out) the eggs contained within the follicles, and is usually done exactly 36hrs after trigger. The timing must be precise - too short and the eggs won’t be detached, too long and they will ovulate on their own and be lost.

Egg Fertilization and Embryo Maturation

The eggs are then fertilized and grown in petri dishes for 3-6 days. FUN FACT: Eggs vs Embryos - eggs are just that. Eggs taken from the woman’s ovaries. Embryos are fertilized eggs with the potential to be a baby. The goal is usually to transfer embryos that have reached 5 days of growth, but sometimes they will also let them grow for an additional day, all the way to day-6, to let some slower ones “catch up” (potentially giving you a few more embryos for freeze). The embryologist calls you every day to tell you how your embryos are growing, and a decision is made which and how many embryos to transfer.

Transfer

The number of embryos transferred depends on the woman’s age and how many failed transfers she may have had previously. Once the selection is made, any remaining are usually frozen. The embryo(s) selected will then be placed back in the uterus, and then the finger crossing begins. The difference between a “fresh transfer” and a “frozen transfer” is: a fresh transfer refers to the placement of an embryo back into the woman’s uterus directly after undergoing stimulation, a frozen transfer refers to eggs that have been frozen for later use being placed back into the uterus. About 9 days after a fresh OR frozen transfer, a woman will have her blood drawn to see if the embryo has “stuck”. If so, she is pregnant, yay! Now she waits till she is 12 weeks to make sure the baby is going to “stick”. If not, the couple can wait a few months and try a frozen transfer- if they were lucky enough to have leftover embryos frozen. There is a fee associated with this, but it is substantially less (about $1500). You can do a transfer as many times as you have embryos left. THEN once you run out, you must repeat the whole $10k process again, or look into other options.

TLDR (too long, didn’t read):

-Tests to see why you can’t make babies.

$10k for medication injections to make lots of eggs.

-Eggs taken out and mixed with sperm in petri dish.

-Embryo(s) made and put back into uterus or frozen.

-If the one(s) put back didn’t get you pregnant, try again with frozen.

-If none frozen, $10k again, rinse and repeat.

If you have questions, leave them in the comments below! Lefty and I will do our best to answer them.  We love your feedback, and your continued support!

All the love - Kay.