“One? Did you say one?” I asked in total disbelief.It just happens? You know what else happens? Shit. That’s what else happens.
“Yes.” She answered as if I shouldn’t be concerned.
“But we had eleven eggs.” I protested.
“I know… sometimes that just happens.”
With my last IVF, I had five eggs and managed to get three embryos out of the deal so I can’t figure out what went wrong this time. Did they forget to do the ICSI? Did the universe realize it was being good to me and quickly correct it? Was this woman actually a nurse from the clinic or some cruel bitch playing a joke on me? Really people – WTF?
They are going to keep checking and maybe, somehow, another embryo will make a grand entrance before it’s too late. The thing is that with the clinical trial, they do the transfer on day three no matter what. I even offered to kick in some money if we could wait till Day five but they can’t do that. The trial said day three transfer so day transfer three it is. So if there’s another embryo ready to emerge, they’ve got till this Thursday to do it. I hope they have a day planner and an alarm clock because the clock is ticking.
Now I realize that the reality is that it only takes one. I know this. I was never good at math but I do know that in this case, one is better than nothing. I just can’t understand how this has happened. Of what guarded optimism I had, this news has pretty much taken a piss all over it.
I phoned our “Clinical Trial Guide”, Drew Barrymore (again, not her real name but just as lovely as the actress) and left her a voice mail letting her know what was going on and that I was shocked and confused. She called me back almost immediately and said she’d get my doctor to call me.
As I waited to talk to the doctor, I started to get even more worried that he was going to say something that would make me feel worse. That my eggs were crap. That my husband’s sperm lost the will to fertilize. That the one embryo we had was a long shot. That this was all somehow my fault. Anything and everything ran through my mind.
Eventually, he called me back and I’m happy to say it was not the worst conversation I’ve ever had. He said they were surprised at the outcome as well but the one embryo we have seems like its good quality and it’s entirely possible more may spring up overnight. He doesn’t think it’s the clinical trial I’ve been doing as the study in general has been going well and he also doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with my husband or me so at least we have that going for us.
Any which way, it’s clear we’re not going to have any embryos to freeze. I suppose the upside of this is I won’t have to worry about knitting teeny tiny mittens.
Perhaps I should at least contact the clinic and ask them to play Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive" to the one viable embryo we've got going for us. Who doesn't get inspired by that song?
In the end, I guess there's really nothing to do now but hope for the best, finish this out, see what happens and prepare to go on to the next step if it isn't a success.
Well, that and perhaps drink heavily.
As always, truly from the bottom of my heart, I thank each and every one of you for your support. You are my human form of Prozac.