So. The day was finally here. Transfer day had arrived after nearly a year of paperwork, appointments, and So.Much.Waiting.
At the beginning of July, the intending dads went to the fertility clinic to make their donations and near the end of July, the wonderful egg donor did her part and they collected 18 eggs. Yep. 18! Out of those, 13 were introduced to sperm with 8 fertilising as they should. After 5 days of cells dividing in a dish, the clinic had four embryos to freeze while we waited for the quarantine period to complete.
There were 18 eggs - why are there only 4 embryos? First, when there are so many eggs produced, it’s likely that they aren’t all perfectly formed and fit for fertilising. That’s how we lost the first 5. Then, some eggs fertilise and some don’t, leaving us with 8. Finally, some fertilise well and divide and become viable embryos and some just don’t. Having four viable embryos to freeze is actually considered an excellent result.
Why a quarantine period? Well, as with any fertility procedure where the materials aren’t from a couple already in a relationship, you need to wait a period of time to ensure that any of the nasty communicable diseases don’t exist in the donor(s). Since I am in a sexual relationship with none of the people involved, we had to wait. I was able to sign an informed consent form to reduce the period from 6 months to 3. This meant we would target my first period after the end of October. The intending dads and the egg donor had their blood tests at the end of October (all clear for everyone) and we were in business.
After finally ovulating (see Day One) our frozen embryo transfer (FET) was scheduled. As luck would have it, it was a Friday morning so I booked the full day off work. I’m not sure I’d have been much use at work for the rest of the day anyway.
It was a lovely sunny day (weird for Wellington summer). I had 750ml of water between 9:15 and 9:30 AM and then sipped on another 250ml until our appointment at 10. (The water is to make the bladder full which makes the ultrasound of the uterus clearer and puts the uterus into the correct position and shape, I’m told.) The dads and I (and my flatmate aka my platonic life partner Megan) headed to the clinic for our 10:00 appointment.
The embryologist met with us first and showed us a picture of our beautiful blastocyst. She let us know that our blast was considered a 5AA grade - ie textbook perfect (I did think from the photo that it was particularly good looking). It did send me home after to look up blastocyst grading. I found this great article that explains it well. Basically, the number refers to how the embryo expands - the higher the number, the more expanded. A 5 on day 5 means that it is starting to “hatch”. The first letter (A to C) indicates the quality of the inner cell mass (with A being the highest). The second letter (A to C, again with A being the highest) indicates the quality of the cells that will become the placenta and other non-embryonic bits after implantation.
In short, we had an excellent starting point. The embryologist then ran us through the process for the transfer and gave me additional progesterone pessaries to continue taking. Finally, we talked about what the next step was post transfer - the pregnancy test.
As I would be due to take the pregnancy test on Christmas Day, I would be unable to actually get to a lab until they opened on the 28th of December. Never before have I wanted people to not have holidays quite so much. She gave me a home test that I could take if I couldn’t wait. Have I mentioned how bad I am at waiting?
Then it was time to take my last sip of water, slip into a “sexy” hospital gown, and get down to the baby making business.
The dads, Megan, the doctor, the nurse, the embryologist and I were all in the room. The dads and I held hands while my uterus was located with the ultrasound and then a wee catheter containing our embryo was inserted. We could see the fluid come out the end of the catheter on the ultrasound. That was our wee embryo. A quick zip with a microscope over the catheter to ensure that the embryo had, in fact, gone with the fluid and we were done. It was a bit surreal. I was now, technically, pregnant. Following what might have been the most satisfying pee of my life (a full bladder with someone pressing on it isn’t a good time - although, I understand I’ve got a few months of that coming up very soon), I got dressed and we left the building.
I was buzzing (as were the dads). One of them went back to work (foolish man) and the other and I went for brunch. We talked about next steps and what ifs and the whole surreal nature of what had just happened. I kept wanting to touch my belly. There was a fertilised embryo in there. Potentially, it would become a real person. I was full of feels (which is unlike me). I texted a photo of the embryo to my family (who have been very supportive). My mom replied and said “It looks like <dad2>”. My mom is adorable.
The next couple of weeks passed mostly in a blur. It was the lead up to Christmas so there were plenty of distractions. The dad that I work with and I went to the pharmacy and bought several more pregnancy tests because who can wait, right? Finally, on Christmas Eve there it was: definitely positive test! So exciting! The dads and I kept it under our hats - leaving Christmas about Christmas but it did relieve some of the pressure on the 28th for the blood test. Those results also came back as positive with good hCG levels (the pregnancy hormone indicators they test for).
Over the next few weeks, I did weekly blood tests to make sure that my hCG levels continued to rise, and to check my progesterone levels. I was able to stop the pessaries after a couple of weeks as my body was producing adequate amounts all on its own. Yay bodies.
Then came the moment of real truth - an appointment at the fertility clinic where they would do a scan to check that the embryo had implanted properly and things were progressing as expected. There on the screen, I saw it - the tiniest flutter of a tiny developing heart. It was real. I had a welling of tears. There were the beginnings of a tiny human starting to grow. It was more than just a few cells in a dish. I was 7 weeks pregnant. Miraculous.