How I lost the ability to count!

I promised you the transfer house of horrors story.

The day before the transfer I called the clinic to confirm our appointment. At that time I went over what our wishes were. What I thought was a very clear conversation that was understood, I was so very wrong.

We, Sabrina and I, get to the transfer on time which was no easy feat in the pouring rain. Thankfully, the hospital has valet parking, of course I think that the grocery store should have valet parking but that is another story entirely. Everything is going well. Sabrina got all geared up. Embryologist comes into talk with us, and this is where I should have known something was up. She shows me two pictures of very adorable embies. I do not want to know the gender until maybe 20 weeks and I am seriously considering waiting till birth.

We go back to the transfer room. Sabrina gets all strapped in, lights are turned down, and the doc calls for the embies, as in plural. To tell you the truth I did not even really hear him. Sabrina turns to me and asks if we are transferring two. Since this whole adventure began the husband and I have been fanatical about only transferring one at a time. It is something that we feel very strongly about, our lives and personalities are just better suited to parenting one child.

After some prodding I ask if they are aware that we are only transferring one embryo, open flood gates of misery. The doctor stands up and walks over to me, all 6 foot plus of him while I am sitting on a tiny surgical stool, and starts talking about lower percentages of success with just one, blah, blah blah. The problem was that he did not stop there, he asked five times, in five ways, to get me to agree to both embies. Not only was I willing to do two, but I could not have made that decision even if I did want to transfer both. The husband was almost a thousand miles away and unreachable that the time. How many children we purposefully have is not a decision that I could make without consulting with him. Finally, I just said we are only doing only one in a big girl voice that made him stop pestering me or at least I thought.

The embryologist finished prepping the single embryo and brought it into the room. At this point I was just elated to be almost finished with the whole thing and just get out of there. “You do realize that there is only a 30% chance of this working. I really hope this one works for you,” all said with the most condescending bordering on accusatory voice coming out of the doctor’s mouth. Basically, he was making sure that I understand that if this transfer did not take I was fully to blame. I wanted to scream and run out the room after stomping on his foot, but I decided to be a normal person and just wait. After the transfer no words were spoken to us by the doc, which was fine with me.

The more I have thought about the situation the angrier I get, which is very rare for me. 99.9% of the time things bother me for a day and then I am over it or at least very close to being over the situation. Not this time, because there are some very fundamental things wrong with this whole situation that could have had serious consequences for not only my family’s life but also Sabrina and her family. The responsibility that I feel for Sabrina and her family is overwhelming at times. Pregnancy is risky, we all know this, but when that risk is being taken on by someone who only wants to see you happily become a family it creates a need to do everything to reduce any risks. As a mother your first priority is the safety of your child, as an intended mother my first priority is to the woman who is giving our family the chance to grow.

In the eye of this fury hurricane I lost my ability to count. So if you have made it this far you get to hear the real news. Because our BETA would fall on a Sunday the nurse agreed to give us an order for a BETA today. At 8dp5dt our number is a 71!!!! Next BETA Monday!