Tag: embryo transfer

IVF: TWW

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Right now, there’s a blastocyst swimming around in my uterus looking for a cozy spot to park and grow. I picture it a little like Dory in Finding Nemo, actually, but I biologically know it doesn’t really swim. The embryo we transferred on Wednesday was a grade 3AB, which I’m told by the many, many trained professionals that have seen my anatomy in the last week, is great.

The transfer went smoothly and was not at all painful like my egg retrieval. Some discomfort and pressure with a very full bladder, but a cake-walk, relatively speaking. It took about 10 minutes from start to finish and was fascinating to watch on the ultrasound screen. On the grainy screen, my husband and I watched the entire process as my doctor put little 3AB in where he/she belongs.

Now, we wait…

I’m relieved to have the injections over, and certainly grateful for the end of the pain of my Dark Willow ovary. Every other time I’ve been in this TWW limbo has been me white-knuckling through the anxiety of the wait. And while I’m certainly eager to see if 3AB is successful, I feel mostly relief that I have my first IVF cycle behind me, regardless of the outcome. 3AB is in there now and I just have to keep it as safe as I can.

While 3AB swims around looking for that warm and inviting spot, Anna, Elsa, Olaf, Kristoff and Anakin are now on ice. We were able to freeze five embryos. Two more of good quality (two more 3ABs), and three more of good/fair that appeared likely to survive the freezing and thawing process. When I texted my sister-in-law  about this process, she sent me a gif from Frozen, and the embryo “names” were born. Its become an amusing inside joke, and one I’m sure I’ll repeat pretty regularly over the next few decades. I’ve denoted Anna and Elsa as the two superior embryos, only because they were frozen together, but I’m personally pulling for Olaf to make it to my uterus next time. If only because it will be endlessly funny to call him Olaf in utero.

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Visualizing the possible

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First, a fun fact*: An enzyme in pineapple could help an embryo implant into the uterus. I’ve been eating pineapple like it’s my job.

*I’m using “fact” quite liberally here. I mostly find this bit of information fascinating, and I happen to like pineapple (at least for now).

My acupuncturist recommended that I come in for a treatment 24 hours prior to my embryo transfer. As I lay down on the table, she explains the points she’ll hit to get my blood flowing well to my uterus in advance of tomorrow’s “big day.”

Before she leaves me with a dozen needles sticking out of various points on my legs, hands and tummy, she tells me to visualize what will happen tomorrow. Picture a perfect embryo entering a warm home and finding a nice, cozy spot to implant. If I’d thought about it too much, it might seem silly to picture this in my mind, but it certainly can’t hurt.

Then before she closes the door to the room, she says to picture what is to come in the months ahead. A healthy, growing bump; a happy mama to be. Visualize what I could look like in four, five months as the leaves turn. A Thanksgiving with a big, full belly (and lots of pie just for me… mmm… pie). Then picture laboring my child and holding him or her in my arms for the first time. The moment my husband sees his son or daughter. The hair color. The tiny but strong grip on my finger.

Imagining my child was very difficult for me to do. After three and a half years of waiting and two miscarriages, I don’t allow myself to picture a future with a baby with blonde hair (my husband’s) and green eyes (mine). It’s simply too painful to fathom that being real anymore.

As I lay there, I imagined my brain knocking down walls. I allowed myself to inch closer to visualizing this little person – half me, half my husband.

I left the room after my treatment very definitively wanting to take a picture tomorrow of me, my husband and our IVF nurse. If this is successful, I’ll hang that photo in the nursery in some months of the people that made my dreams come true.

If tomorrow doesn’t take, I’ll be glad to have a photo of us filled with hope for that little blondie with the green eyes, even if we have to wait longer.