In transition

On Monday we found out the results of the genetic testing of our two embryos. We have one embryo that is normal and there was one that was missing the #8 chromosome. We have one. We have one little embryo that has made it this far. Monday I left myself get excited. I started picturing the transfer date, planning on what would be next. Then we met with the doctor. He let us know that only 3 of 4 frozen embryos make it through the thaw process. And after that, we have a 50/50 chance of pregnancy. My heart was crushed. I was overcome with regret that I had not done the fresh transfer instead of waiting for the genetic testing.  I feel like my choice to freeze this last embryo may result in its death and that feels really, really shitty.

When we were making the decision to wait for the testing, we asked the question of the chances were any different for success with frozen vs. fresh embryos. The response we got was not really. So we evaluated all of the pros and cons of waiting for the genetic testing and chose to wait. It felt like a solid decision at the time. Now I am terrified that my fear of a miscarriage will ultimately result in the loss of our final, normal embryo.

I have grieved the loss of the other 10. In many ways, I have been able to accept the loss of those embryos because they were not viable. They would not likely have made it, even in my womb. In reality, the fact that so many did not make it made me grateful that we had not tried to get pregnant again on our own. I looked at the numbers and realized that during our years of trying, the odds were stacked against us. I am thankful to the universe for giving me those 10 embryos. I have been able to find peace and healing in the process of retrieval, fertilization, and growing.

But it feels completely different with this last little one.

I desperately want this one to make it. I am so ready to be a mom. I have a strong desire to have a big baby belly. I want to not to be able to see my feet. I want to complain about being uncomfortable. To feel the baby kick inside of me. I want to buy baby clothes, prepare a nursery, and get excited for birth. I want to labor and deliver. And I want this little baby. Not another one, down the road. This one.

We are scheduled to transfer on August 13th and that is a freaking long time from now. Whenever I think about the fact that it is two months from now before we will know if the embryo can make it through the thaw, I am overcome by anxiety. I feel like time is slipping through my hands and that another year will be gone and I will be standing at the precipice of a new year with an empty belly. As I step out of the fog of regret, anger, and sadness I am finding the good in the two months I have been given. I am able to return to Nia where I know that I am able to heal physical and emotional wounds. I am able to go through a natural cycle, which will have me at a stable place for transfer instead of the hyperstimulated, not very happy place I was in after the retrieval. And I can do some spirit work to prepare for the first trimester of pregnancy.  I will count my blessings, note the abundance that surrounds me, and say a little prayer for my little embryo that is sitting and waiting to come home.

The reality of making a baby is that no matter how awesome the science is, no matter how perfectly I follow the directions, it is still a miracle. It still takes magic and I need magic.