As Good As It Gets
Ah, I remember our very first appointment with our Reproductive Endocrinologist. Which was funny, in a way, being that neither of us was "fertility challenged." It was September 24, 2003. I had just turned 33. We found out how the stimulation cycle would work, the retrival of my little oocytes, the fertilization through ICSI, the biopsy, the prelimplantation genetic diagnosis, the transfer, the progesterone injections, the pregnancy test - we were all set.
That first cycle, which started in January of 2004, yeilded 11 eggs, 8 of which fertilized. They were able to biopsy all 8 on day 3 and send them for PGD testing. We got a call on day 5 to come in for the transfer, which was great - there would actually be something to transfer! When we arrived an hour later (since we live an hour away), the doctor went over the PGD report with us. Out of the 8, 3 were unaffected. One of the three had arrested, so we had two that were healthy and unaffected with the genetic mutation. They were going in!
They performed the transfer, and the doctor and staff were so sweet and hopeful. We went home, I took it easy, and we waited until the pregnancy test. When I went for the test, I told Ron they wouldn't have the results until the following day. This way, when it was positive, I could surprise him. Going though IVF doesn't leave a lot of surprise moments between a couple. I read these cute little antedotes in Fit Pregnancy magazine about how expecting mothers told their husbands they would soon be fathers, and thought, couldn't I do something like that? Well, here's my chance! They called the same day, and, beacuse I just never considered the alternative, told me the test was positive - I was pregnant! Yay! What were the numbers, I inquired? 45, acceptably positive, I reasoned. I never let on, even though Mr. Right was sitting next to me when I got the call.
I had bought two pacifiers (just in case), put them in a little gift bag, and gave Mr. R a card that evening telling him we were going to be parents. I was so not prepared for his reaction.
"IT WORKED!" he exclaimed as he jumped up and down. He was really excited, as was I and we hugged and kissed and started dreaming about whether it would be one or two, boy or girl. It was a lovely Saturday, and we were just thrilled.
Then Monday popped up, and I went back for my second hCG level, so that they could verify the numbers were going up, as of course they must be.
The phone rang, about 2pm Monday. The numbers, it turned out had gone down. To 26. I still had hope. Maybe they had both implanted, an then one stopped developing. It could happen, right? Well, I suppose it could, but not in this case.
Looking back, we had no idea that that was as good as it was going to get.