For those not in total tune with the infertility blog world, the title means 2 days past 5 day transfer. I made B read some of the blogs out loud I've been following when I was in bed and we couldn't get the computer to reach me. I hate not having wireless... Anyway, he was reading and one of these little "XdpXdt" came up and he sorta paused and slowly stumbled through it and gave the computer a quizzical look... love him. Why would he know what that means? Why would anyone? Anyone but us infertile bloggers of course.
So I'm into my second day after the transfer. That crucial 24 hours has passed, almost 48 now. I've done a pretty good job staying horizontal. All because of B waiting on me! Thank you honey!!!
I have to ask, however, why the doctors office would push so heavily to stay positive and think happy thoughts during this 48 hours, but call with not-so-good news only about 22 hours after transfer? I sobbed like a little girl. Well, not really like a little girl; like a huge, loud, sobbing girl. The embryologist called to let me know that none of our embryos made it to freeze. They were all stuck in day three or day four. ... That didn't give me much hope for the ones they put in. Granted, these two were our best. Our survivors, right? But in that moment, that dark moment after I hung up the phone and the embryologist told me to have a good day...I couldn't see past the darkness. I let it all out- and I'm sure that's not good for implantation. I was thinking about the sobbing as it was happening- it was loud heavy sobs. The kind that your entire body gets into. The kind that makes your stomach hurt. So of course, guilt set in that I was pushing the embryos out with every sob. I couldn't escape it- I was spiraling for sure.
I texted B- he had gone into work. I asked him to come home, said the rest had died. It was a cryptic, dramatic text for my cryptic, dramatic mood.
He was home in 15 minutes and laid on the bed with me, telling me all of the things that I needed to hear but didn't want to. We talked for a while, I cried some more- but no more snot inducing sobs. Just sad, sad tears. He held me, and he talked to Petrie and Ducky. He got me to talk to them, too. To apologize for my lack of faith. I needed that.
So then we spent the next few minutes naming our children. This is the best thing a girl like me can do for hope. I told B that I didn't want to hope because it hurt too bad. I'd rather stay cold and shut off because I knew it wasn't going to work anyway. He reminded me that if I don't have hope, it still will hurt. As soon as we get that beta- if it's not what we wanted all along, it's going to hurt. But giving it a chance won't make it hurt any more. I'm not sure if that's true, but it's right nonetheless. It's the right thing. So we named our babies. Not our embryos, but our babies. The ones we WILL have. And they're beautiful names. I can't wait.
I also spent some time on the internet last night when we jimmy rigged a way for me to get to the computer. This helped me so much! Thank you for the link, Stacie! I actually started feeling like I wasn't faking hope last night when I read of the mother who transferred three embryos, two of which were nearly shots in the dark- not good quality. ALL three implanted, and one of them even split. She had quadruplets. It's true, quality of the embryo is not end-all. Things can change...they saw our grade two embryo changing right before they transferred it. It was still developing. Our survivor! And don't leave Ducky out, don't you dare count Ducky out.
So today I'm obsessing over a few slight cramps. Nothing to really speak of- but just a few little somethings. I'm sure it's nothing, it may even be a good thing. Who knows!
Our beta is August 5th. I go in tomorrow for the progesterone/estrogen blood draw. C'mon blood levels! Keep doing your job, and I'll keep doing mine.
ps- my mom's homemade vegetable soup was the best thing that could have happened. Sooo easy, so delicious. I ate five bowls in two days. Gross. I'm gross.