Transfer Day

On Day 5, Lee, C, and I got into the car and headed to Toronto. C and I both drugged as per protocol so that our uteruses were baby-making-friendly (read: bloated!). We anticipated how things would go. The doctor did not want more than one embryo transferred to each of us. In my case, the risk of twins was simply too high - no doctor would support putting me at risk of having twins again. And, in C's case, they did not want to put two embryos in, because then we might have three or four babies. The doctor explained that if something were to go wrong due to a high risk/high order multiple pregnancy, when I was also pregnant, that she would have difficulty justifying her decision. However, Lee and I knew that we wanted a positive pregnancy test. Neither of us (and I doubt C) wanted to have a negative pregnancy test and then do another embryo transfer in the months ahead. We wanted a positive pregnancy test as soon as possible. And, in our experience, given that we see making a family as difficult, the faster the better. Three babies would be better than one. One or two, better than none. We walked in to the clinic prepared. Or, so we thought.
This happened to be the one time that the clinic was running ahead of schedule. I overheard a nurse mention a transfer not arriving, so I offered that she might be looking for me. She immediately scolded us for being late (we arrived on the dot!), and sent us into a room to change our clothes. We were told to put on gowns, caps, slippers, and masks. 
As we were rushed into a room to change, the doctor dropped in, and hurriedly explained that we had five amazing embryos. She explained that three had received the top mark from the embryologist and the embryoscope and that two had the second highest grading. She explained that pregnancy rates between any of the embryos was none existent; these embryos had the best chances of turning into babies. She then recommended that we transfer one to each of us. She then explained that there is a risk that if two transferred to C, that one could split, creating triplets - a risky pregnancy. She spoke quickly, she shared statistics, and she successfully scared us. We had arrived cool, calm, collected, and decided. And in a few short minutes we had been made vulnerable and unsure of ourselves. She then left us alone to discuss, and we really needed to because we had been scared! She came back one moment later and asked if we were ready. When we said we were not, she explained that the transfer needed to take place now, or be quite delayed, as she had other appointments! It seemed as though we were being asked to make significant decisions about our life, the risks we were willing to take to build our family, in short little moments. So, we hurried, and off we went to the procedure room.
In my mind, C was the first to have a transfer done. Lee and I sat beside her, as she lied there waiting. When the doctor entered the room she asked our decision and we told her: two embryos to C and one to me. Through a small half-door in the wall, kind of like going to a drive through window, she 'ordered up' two of our embryos. She then turned to us, and re-explained the risks. She then informed us that we would have to agree to a selective termination if this occurred. Basically, she waited until we were in a most vulnerable position and asked that we promise to abort some of the fetuses if there happened to be three or more. I challenged her one this. She simply said that she needed this information in order to proceed. I turned to C, who I knew would not be comfortable with such a procedure, and said to her that if I were her, I would tell the doctor what she needed to hear because ultimately no one could ever enforce such a promise. So, C promised. We all signed the paper. And then they began to prepare for the embryo transfer.
It was in these quiet moments of waiting and anticipation that it hit me. Not the wonderful, kindness that C was offering. Not the excitement of trying to get pregnant. Grief. I was sitting here, putting our own embryos into another woman. I was asking her to grow my children because I was not sure that I could. And, if I could not, i was not sure that I would survive another infant loss. I thought of Maggie and the tiny, low in my abdomen, squirm that I felt as her last movement before I held her. I pictured Patrick squirming in the NICU's incubator. And and remembered holding them as they died. I hung my head beside C and Lee and wept. Huge sobs escaped me, sobs I had not heard since we had their 'goodbye'. I did not want this, I wanted them. I could not believe this was where our story was taking us. I was so scared it would not work, and probably, also so scared that it would. My heart broke for my babies and for me. It was not that I was not thankful for C, but in that moment, I was overcome with the images of my babies... the doctor, not so gentley, told me to re-group myself and moved forward with the day. They showed us the embryos on the television screen: two tiny little cell clusters, first pictures of what could become babies. And then a tube and ultrasound watched as they were delivered into C's nice, cushy uterus for hopefully the next nine months. 
When it was my turn, I was less emotional. Terrified it would work. The doctor in fact, more than once and including on that day, had suggested that I not do a transfer at all. She wanted to protect me from grief. I did too, but also knew that I was not ready to give up on helping to grow our family. So, I lied down in the bed, and went through the same thing with a single embryo. We took its photograph and watched it be delivered into my uterus. 
And then it was done. Certainly no fireworks or magic. Just modern science and desperate mother. 
xx