The life of an IVF patient is never dull- especially when your potential future children are growing in a little dish somewhere across town.
On Tuesday I woke up unsure whether to get dressed for work or for the clinic for our embryo transfer. Our clinic had said they would call by 9am if they were going to reschedule for Day 5, so Mr. T. and I ate a leisurely breakfast, expecting the call at any moment to change the date as they had for our first IVF.
Years ago, our clinic only did Day 3 transfers, but now they prefer to do Day 5 or even Day 6 so they can pick out the best blastocysts and more closely match the “natural” timing of the embryo reaching the uterus (though of course IVF is anything but “natural”.) So I knew that if Dr. IVF wanted us to come in for a Day 3 transfer, that would be a bad sign- it meant that the embryologist didn’t think our embies were tough enough to make it to Day 5. And physically and mentally, I didn’t feel tough enough to be ready for transfer yet.
9am came and went without a call.
“Looks like today’s the day!” Mr. T announced.
Filled with dread and worry about our embryos, I scrambled to reschedule work meetings and revise my work plans for the week. I finished tying things up, drank the obscene amount of water for the requisite full bladder for transfer, and was about to go out the door when we got the call.
Transfer would be on Thursday or Friday instead.
All seven were still growing, and the embryologist wanted to let these tiny three day old embryos got to blastocyst stage before they picked out the winners of this very important race.
Breathing a sigh of relief for my embryos, now I had to reschedule all those meetings I had just rescheduled five minutes earlier, clearing my schedule for Thursday and Friday again. (I should have just taken off the whole week, but I have a dream of actually taking a vacation someday instead of using all my time for IVF.)
Since the call on Tuesday I’ve been throughly enjoying one of my favorite parts about IVF; being “pregnant in a dish.”
I can go for a long run, get things done around the house, enjoy a glass of wine and eat whatever I want- all without obsessively worrying about the growing embryos inside me. Especially because of what happened following IVF #1 and #2 (that which will not be named since I’m only thinking positive thoughts), this freedom of “expecting” without the responsibility is a wonderful thing.
It’s kind of like being a guy with a pregnant wife, I imagine.
So we are on for Thursday. Unless it’s Friday. I won’t believe it’s happening until it happens. In the meantime, I’ll continue to enjoy being “pregnant in a dish”, and trust that the embryologist is being an excellent babysitter to my hopefully-baby-to-be.