We spent a large part of the weekend discussing how many blastocysts to have transferred. Throughout the process we have been strongly advised that on a day 3 embryo transfer you should go for two (as they have less chance of surviving), but on a day 5 you should only have one, due to the high risk of multiple pregnancy. Ultimately though, it would be our decision, regardless of what we were told. I was surprised when DH started the discussion with the pros of having two transferred. In my mind I had just assumed we'd follow the advice of the doctors. The clinic does not promote multiple pregnancies, apparently there are lots of risks to the babies and mother. It turned out that DH had done a lot of research and he said the 'increased risks' were so minimal anyway that they were irrelevant. He said that statistics are always manipulated to make the point that you want and in this case the NHS wouldn't want multiple births as there would be far more after care needed which would cost more money etc. I think I have mentioned before how good DH is at debating, so of course he had completely changed my mind and I was fairly sure we would go for two. Even when I told him there would be a chance of triplets or at least twins, he didn't appear deterred. As far as he was concerned it would be easier to have two babies in one go, than one now and another in a couple of years. I love the idea of twins, although I know how hard that would be. Over the course of the weekend my mind must have changed about ten times. One of my friends (who is pregnant with her second) almost put me off having any transferred altogether, with her talk of how exhausting it is and how difficult it is with a dog too and how you have no time to even go to the toilet let alone have any sort of life. Whilst another friend told me it's easy as long as you relax and you enjoy it.
On our journey to the clinic on Monday morning I still hadn't decided what to do. DH said it would be my decision, not his. Eventually I came to the conclusion that if we were told we had one blastocysts that was better quality then all the others, then we'd go for one, if not we'd have two. Our previous visit to the clinic had been very early and we had been the only people there. The waiting room on this occasion was full of awkward looking couples having stilted conversations. There was a large mirror, which had now become a window into the laboratory. I was fascinated and felt like a small child at an aquarium, staring at the embryologists as they studied things under their microscopes. When it was our turn we were led into a sterile room, just off the main lab. The embryologist explained that three of our ten had made it to the blastocyst stage. One was very good quality and the other two were good. I asked what grade they were, a 4BB+ and the other two were 3BB (not that I really understood the grading system). She said that she was very fussy with embryos and that mine were very good, if we put two in, there would be an incredibly high chance of a multiple pregnancy. I stuck to the decision I had made in the car and asked to have the best one transferred and the other two frozen. I was then asked to get into the familiar dignified position of legs in the stirrups with my bottom half stripped off and covered with a small sheet. This time I had an over the belly ultrasound scan. They talked us through the whole procedure as we watched it on the monitor. The thin white line we could see was the catheter through which the embryo would be inserted. What looked like a mini explosion at the end of this white line was the embryo with the fluid being injected. And that was it. Probably one of the strangest experiences of my life. If the embryo was going to implant it would do so within the next 24 hours. We were given a pregnancy test and instructed when to use it.
So now came the dreaded two week wait that so many people had said was the most stressful period of the treatment. I was so busy at work the first week that I barely thought about it. The second week was the start of the Easter holidays, but I still managed to busy myself with school work, gardening, dog walking and genuinely did not feel any stress. Not being allowed to exercise properly I found that I was incredibly restless and struggled to sleep properly (perhaps this was stress that I just hadn't recognised as such). DH also put it down to the progesterone I was taking. The end of the 2ww came a lot quicker than I was expecting. The pregnancy test was to be done with the first wee of the morning. I read the instructions carefully and followed them step by step. The 'control line' turns pink immediately and the 'test line' will turn pink within three minutes if it is positive. If no line appears, this means a negative result.The instructions told me to discard the test after 3 minutes as it is not accurate then. I set my stopwatch and stared at the blank space where the pink line should appear. Nothing. My stopwatch hit 3 minutes and not even an inkling of a pink line. My heart sank, I started welling up, I had been here before. But this time there had actually been an embryo inside me. I picked up the test and stared at it. Was I imagining it because I so desperately wanted to see it, or was there actually a faint pink link appearing. I took it into the bedroom where DH was still asleep and waved it in front of his face. He was so bleary eyed he couldn't make out anything. 'I can see one pink line next to the C, but no I can't see anything by the T' he said. After about 10 minutes when his eyes were working properly he looked again. 'hmmm, actually I can see it'. Well what the hell does it mean am I pregnant or not? The line appeared after about 5 minutes and the instructions said to discard after 3 minutes, but why? Surely it wouldn't change colour if I wasn't pregnant. I had to wait until it was time for the supermarket to open and I bought the most expensive clear blue test I could find. A digital one that says pregnant or not pregnant, then there can be no mistaking the result. I raced back home to re-test. Again, according to the instructions, the result would be displayed within 3 minutes. An agonising wait as the display flashed with an egg timer symbol, heart pounding, not wanting to look at it, but compelled to do so. Suddenly one word appeared - Pregnant. I stared at it in disbelief, my eyes welled up again, but for a good reason this time. I jumped back into bed and waved the display in front of DH's face (again). We didn't really say anything, we just lay there snuggling.
I phoned the clinic and they booked me for a scan in 3 weeks time. This 3 week wait I think is going to be the most difficult and stressful time. I have lost count of how many times I looked at the test throughout the day. I actually don't believe it and I won't until I have that scan. Anything could happen within the next few weeks though. I don't feel like I'm pregnant, I don't feel any different. I'm almost tempted to do another test, but scared that it might say I'm not pregnant. I'm trying not to let myself get excited, but it's hard not to. If everything goes well, we'll be having a Christmas baby.
