Transfer day.....?

Ok, so I was going to write all about our transfer etc yesterday but was tired and over it and just didn't feel like it, so now I will attempt to write about Sunday, the big transfer day.

Sunday, Day 5, The worst weather for god know's how long. I am talking torrential rain, floods everywhere including on the roads. The motorway looked like a fast moving river and we were fighting the wind to stay on the road. Not that we cared mind, it was a long 2.5hour drive but shit, Its Transfer Day!!!
After a mammoth drive to the clinic, only just getting there in the nick of time the nurse gets me to chuck on my gown and sit there to wait to have transfer... then shit got real. The Dr and embryologist come into the room, but instead of telling us the plan etc the doc opens with; "there's a problem" now this is the part where for a split second my mind goes somewhere else and he says, "The problem is you have too many perfect blasts and we just can't pick one, we need you to help us draw straws"... and then I remembered that this was happening to ME and so the news was not going to be good...

The problem it turned out, was that none of the 7 we had on day 3 had made it to blast.. What the shit? we had 7, 7!!! then they tell us that 3 hadnt made it through day 4, fine we accept that there is always a decline with this stuff, and that there were four that they were expecting to make it to day 5 but they didnt. So the choice was stay overnight in Auckland and see how they go, if by some small miracle something made it overnight we could come back and have it put back. Or go home, wait for the phone call in the morning and just try to relax.

I was a mess, and I mean a proper fucking mess, we sat in the car for an hour before deciding half ass'd to go get something to eat and then couldn't decide what we wanted. I just wanted to go home, screw the storm of the century and screw the clinic.. I want my bed. We had to stop in at Albany, it was still raining heavily and we still needed to eat. By this stage I had been crying for a couple hours and was at the numb stage. The Mr. talked me into just going and sitting in the cinema for a couple of hours, so that is what we did. I don't remember bugger all of the film and I spent half of it staring at the back of the seat in front of me but we went all the same. This was really difficult for me, I had it stuck in my head that by going to the movie we were just being too lax about the fact that it might all be over. But in hindsight it was probably a good thing to do, it gave us time to just be numb and not have to do anything else. I did have a mini meltdown in the food court though, surrounded by pregger women, babies, and a heck of a lot of people.. I just needed out, could not handle it at all.

Over this weekend we also had the Mr's friend from the UK staying with us and we had arranged to go out to dinner with him and his new wife that night, originally it was going to be a night of celebration not of grief. We agreed that we should still go, do something semi normal. After all we couldn't do anything about anything until Monday morning when the clinic called. So we went to a restaurant that friends of ours own and ate good food, I had half a glass of good red wine and we had a shisha pipe (green apple flavour) It felt good to be normal, to not be obsessed with my IVF diet and just hang out. Granted I was a complete zombie most of the time, but still.. it was nice.

Monday morning... ohhh man, I was awake from 4am, no shit I felt like I was going to rip all my skin off I was so nervous. I spent the morning watching the phone and waiting. When it rang the Mr. answered it, there was no way I was going near it! I watched him from the other end of the hallway, when he sat there with his head in has hands thanking the person on the other end of the phone with every ounce of his heart I knew there had been some sort of small miracle. Turned out one, ONE! made it to blast, so we were going down again, this time for a day 6 transfer.

Normally when we go to the clinic I make an effort, like I do my hair and try to look semi nice for the people who are trying to impregnate me. This time though they were just lucky I dressed. Still with the numb feeling all through me we went down and sat in the little room again, in my gown again, and waited for someone to come in and tell us there was a fuck up.. no embryo's had survived.

Bert the embryologist (yes thats his name.. and he was like an energizer bunny) came in and told us that we had a perfect looking blast. He went on to talk about the day 6 transfer and how this one was one of the slower embryo's the entire process and that maybe we would be pregnant for 11 months instead of 9 (hardy har!) This was the point where I had my first ounce of feeling. Something positive to grasp onto.

Transfer went well, a lot more uncomfortable than I imagined but it went well. Afterwards we got something to eat and chilled out looking in shops etc before making the drive home to 'relax'

So that is my transfer story, definitely not what anyone was expecting, the day that was meant to be the best was the worst day I have had in a very very very long time..

I just hope that wasn't the last of my miracles.