We had now lost two babies, and I was ready to fight. Like, really fight. Not that I wasn’t before, but our failed pregnancy test shook me to the core and the competitive part of me said, “this isn’t over.”
We of course mourned the loss of our second child, cried for days, and once again, questioned the “why” behind our struggle. But we both felt compelled to move forward and meet with our doctor to determine what went wrong with our frozen embryo transfer.
We had to wait about two weeks to meet with Dr. Jenson, and when we did, we unfortunately did not get the closure we had hoped for. I asked her if me getting sick could have contributed to the baby not surviving and implanting in my uterus. She said it was possible, but unlikely. Could it have been due to another chromosomal abnormality? Maybe, but we would never know. Was my body rejecting pregnancy for some reason? Very doubtful, considering my age and health. While our first loss was extremely difficult, Dave and I found a degree of healing when we learned why our child didn’t make it. We would never find that closure with this second round, and that was challenging to grasp.
In that same meeting with Dr. Jenson we reviewed our final two embryos, which were of average quality according to fertility standards. Our clinic does not freeze any embryos which would be deemed unviable, so they absolutely had a chance. They simply were less likely to implant and lead to a pregnancy when compared to our first embryo we transferred in July. We were then faced with what seemed like an impossible decision – should we transfer one embryo at a time, or both of them? If we transferred one embryo at a time, and ultimately neither made it, we would pour in double the money, double the time, and double the physical and emotional pain. On the other hand, transferring two embryos would increase our odds of having twins. I must say that Dave and I would welcome any healthy pregnancy, but the thought of twins is and has always been a bit overwhelming to us. Regardless, we know God would carry us through anything, as He has shown He is so capable of. It was a decision that Dr. Jenson encouraged we take time to discuss outside of the appointment.
Dave and I spent about a week going through what seemed like every pro and con to each option. And ultimately, we made the decision which was best for us, and that was to transfer both embryos. When we called the clinic to notify them of our choice, they called us back the same day and stated they would be looking at late December for our next transfer if we would like to proceed. I spoke with Dave, as the tentative transfer date of December 20th was right before we were leaving for vacation in Arizona. Was it wise to chance it? What if the timing was thrown off and it affected our ability to go on our trip? The clinic felt confident in the timing of things, and since we were flying out on the 29th, they even said they would do my pregnancy test eight days after transfer, as opposed to ten! After more thought and deliberation, Dave and I confirmed with our clinic and I immediately started round three of injections.
A few individuals challenged our decision and suggested that perhaps taking some time off from the treatments would be good for my body. While reading this, you may be thinking similar thoughts. And while I respect those feelings and have at times pondered the same thing for myself, I knew that pushing back the inevitable would only make me more anxious. Our chances of having a child naturally remained less than 2%, so if our doctor was comfortable moving forward at this pace, then we most certainly were as well.
For whatever reason, even though the medication regimen was the exact same as my first frozen transfer, I felt less nauseated this round. Maybe my body was becoming more familiar with the injections? Or with it being the busiest time of the year at my surgery center, perhaps I was too busy to recognize any adverse symptoms. Regardless, I was thankful. I did do one additional intervention this round that I had not previously done, per the suggestion of my physician. It was an elective procedure called an “Endometrial Scratching.” The procedure involves scraping away some of the lining in the uterus, which then prompts the body into healing the area and creating more tissue. Remember – a thicker lining would provide a higher probability of our embryos sticking. The procedure was about as enjoyable as it sounds, but I wanted to do whatever I could to best prepare my body for a successful outcome. Whether it was a result of that procedure or sheer luck, when I went in to the clinic for my uterine lining check, they were thrilled with how things looked. We proceeded with a transfer date of December 20th.
Third time’s a charm? That’s what we kept telling ourselves as we arrived to our clinic for our embryo transfer. We waited with held breath until the embryologist came in to notify us that our final two babies thawed beautifully and were ready to be transferred to “their home.” You’re probably getting the hang of the routine by now – Dr. Jenson came in, we watched the procedure under ultrasound, while patting my stomach she told our embryos to “Stick and Grow, Stick and Grow,” and we proceeded on to our acupuncture appointment. Everything went flawlessly, and we could not have been more thankful. This was, after all, the last of our embryos.
The eight-day wait was, as always, difficult, but I was thankful to remain in good health this time around. I did not have any bleeding as I had with our first transfer, however I did feel some abdominal tightness and back pain, which I hoped was a good sign of implantation. On the Friday prior to leaving for our vacation, I had my blood drawn in the early morning, and was planning to receive the phone call any time after 1:00 pm (based on our previous experience). While I was in the operating room at work helping to prepare for an upcoming surgery, my phone rang, and before looking at it I saw the wall clock which read 10:45 am. It was way too early for us to be receiving our results. But sure enough, it was the clinic calling. And I froze. I ran in to my office, answered the phone, and waited to hear the nurse speak the words which would either lead to immense celebration or crushing heartbreak. She said,
“Hi Emily, I am calling to deliver the results from your pregnancy test. Congratulations, we have a positive result!”
I cried. And screamed (oops, hopefully no coworkers heard this!). And then I cried some more. The nurse stated that our HCG level was 52.6, which was basically the same value from our first pregnancy test on day ten. This was post-transfer day eight, so I felt encouraged by the higher number at this point in time. We were told to continue all of the medications I had been taking, and that we would need to have another blood draw on Wednesday, January 5th. Typically, as I had indicated in a prior post, they like to repeat lab work 48 hours after the initial result to ensure the HCG level is doubling, but due to the holiday our clinic would be closed. The nurse once again congratulated me and told me to enjoy our well-deserved vacation. I called Dave, who started crying and repeating how thankful and happy he was to have such amazing news. We celebrated that evening with dinner at our favorite pizza joint, and an early bedtime in preparation for our 6:00 am flight to Arizona.
Our first few days in Arizona were spent enjoying one another’s company and the blessing (or blessings!) we had growing in my belly. Until the first ultrasound, there would be no way to determine if one or both of our embryos made it. We were just so grateful to be pregnant and were thrilled with whatever God would bless us with! For my 30th birthday, we went to dinner and did a toast (with water for me 🙂 ) to our bright future ahead. It was the best birthday I’ve had to date.
On Tuesday, January 4th, the day prior to our lab appointment, I decided to take a pregnancy test. I couldn’t wait to see the two pink lines! Except I didn’t – the test was negative. I of course panicked, and instantly thought the worst. But Dave quickly reminded me that we found out we were pregnant well before most people ever would, and a urine pregnancy test may not register as positive yet. So I did everything in my power to remain optimistic like my husband, but truthfully, I was battling a tremendous amount of inner doubt. The following morning, I had my blood drawn, and we tried to keep our minds busy by going for a long walk and enjoying our surroundings. Later that afternoon, when our clinic had received the fax of my results, we received a phone call. With Dave by my side, I answered and placed the call on speaker phone.
“Hi Emily. Is now an okay time to talk? Emily, I am so sorry… Today, your HCG level is 13. Due to the decreasing number, your pregnancy is no longer considered viable.”
I placed my phone down on the table, and while Dave took in the rest of the message, I curled up into a ball and sobbed. This was it. It was our final chance, and in that moment it honestly seemed as if our world was ending. I felt that it was too good to be true for me to be pregnant and stay pregnant. Once again, we were left to grieve. And not only the loss of one baby this round, but two.
My mom and step dad were coming to finish out the vacation with us in Arizona that evening. This was pre-planned, and an absolute saving grace. It was as if God had already known that I would need my mom to be with me in that moment. I fell into her arms when I saw her at the airport, and I think she knew she was where she needed to be as well.
On one of the final days of the trip, when sitting at a restaurant for dinner, I remember looking out at the mountainous landscape and telling Dave,
“If God can create beauty such as this, then he can create beauty in our lives, too.”
And though my heart was aching far more than it ever had before, I truly believed that.
XO,
Emily
Next Post: Starting Back at Square One
North of Hope 