We had our second ultrasound on Thursday. I had been feeling especially “well” that day, so I was sure something bad must have happened.
To my surprise, Dr. L. found both babies and their flickering heartbeats right away. He said he had heard from Dr. A. about the third sack, and wanted to check that out so we started our tour of my uterus there, confirming that sack A was empty (I never thought I’d be relieved to see an empty gestational sack). Measuring it, he found that it was only about a third of the size of the other two sacks.
Dr. L said that unless Mr. T and I had sex and fertilized an egg at the same time as our transfer (which I reminded him is entirely impossible unless I was having an affair- and even then still quite unlikely) he said that one of our embryos must have split. Which means that it’s possible- although unlikely, that Baby A and B are identical.
He zoomed in on Baby B next. To my concern, Baby B is measuring 6 days behind. Little B should be at 7 weeks 1 day, but is only measuring 6 weeks 2 days. Heartbeat was 119. Dr. L didn’t seem to concerned, but he’s always nice and generally optimistic. He said the fact that the heartbeat was strong and baby was continuing to grow was a good sign. That B would likely catch up.
Baby A on the other hand is only 2 days behind- at 6 weeks 5 days. Dr. L turned on the sound and the heartbeat was so loud and fast at 146 bpm that I couldn’t believe it was coming from such a tiny little speck.
Overall, I should have left feeling happy. But measuring behind always worries me, based on my unhappy experiences. And now that I’ve had a chance to see Baby A and Baby B, and hear their sweet little heartbeats, I feel that much more attached to them. I’m already picturing the two of them keeping each other company in the womb as they did in the freezer for four years, snuggling together as babies, holding hands as they grow up and being best friends forever.
Mr. T and I left, under my self-imposed somber dark cloud of worry. Poor Mr. T. All these years of carrying my worry. He said as much in a rare outburst on the car ride home.
And I decided that even if I’m right to worry- Mr. T is right that we deserve to be happy in the moment once in a while too.
So this weekend I threw all caution to the wind, and made the bold decision to tell my best friend on Saturday. She’s expecting her second baby in May, and was overjoyed for us. It felt good to let myself be happy.
Then I went to the bathroom and was spotting brown. It’s as if the universe felt me getting too happy, and wanted to keep me in check. I lay down for the rest of the afternoon, convinced it was the beginning of the end.
The spotting stopped by the time we headed out to a friend’s birthday party that evening where we would see all our closest friends. On the way over, Mr. T asked if it was ok if we told everyone there. They know what we’ve been through- and most of them knew we were starting the FET process, but I had been vague about the dates, not wanting the pressure of keeping everyone posted about each milestone along the way.
But now, I realized that this might be it. It might be the only time we could celebrate these two miraculous little heartbeats with our friends. These two embryos had waited so long- they deserve all the hope and joy and love from our friends. And so did Mr. T. After all, this is the last pregnancy announcement we’ll ever make- no matter what happens next.
So we told them. And their hugs and love and the outpouring of joy they had for us was amazing. Any misgivings I had about sharing our news were gone when I saw Mr. T’s happy face across the room. Thinking back to his diagnosis of Azoospermia five years ago, not sure if we’d ever be able to have children, let alone the big family he always dreamed of- he deserved this moment.
We still aren’t telling our families until we are out of the first trimester- from past experience we’ve learned they need more comforting and ask more questions than our friends when things don’t go well.
But celebrating Baby A and Baby B with our friends felt good. No matter what happens next, I’m glad we had this moment. Maybe after five years of infertility, I’m finally learning to be braver. I can only hope. And continue to hope for Baby A and B with all my heart.