Preimplantation Genetic Screening (PGS) is a test that examines the chromosome material of an embryo. It can tell if the appropriate number of chromosomes are present (46), or if an abnormal number of chromosomes are present.
We got our test results back yesterday at 5pm. It's weird how sometimes our intuition is so spot on, but we don't always trust it. I had a feeling all day that we might not be receiving the news we were hoping for. I had even mentioned to my husband that I might try to get to his office before the call so we could take it together "in case I needed a hug afterwards".
Seeing as though it was a Friday, people had gathered in the kitchen of my office to drink wine and decompress. My desk is near this area and it is usually annoying to have to block out the chatter and distractions while trying to get work done, but come 4:45 yesterday, I welcomed their conversations in the background, as I wasn't getting much done at that point anyhow, too focused on making sure I didn't somehow miss the call from the doctor. When "Dr. K" called I quickly explained that I'd patch Ryan into the call while grabbing a conference room. As soon as we verified that all of us were on the call Dr. K wanted to know how I was feeling. I had my hysteroscopy / uterine septum repair Tuesday of this week and it had been a bit tougher than any of us planned (I have a few blog posts with more on that specifically if you're interested). My husband also happened to have come down with a 24hr stomach bug this week, and for some reason assumed the FERTILITY doctor was speaking to him about his stomach issues, (as if these conversations aren't awkward enough). It went something like this:
Dr. K: "First of all, how are you feeling?"
Ryan: "Ummm...good" trails off as he realizes that question wasn't meant for him...followed by light uncomfortable laughter
All: (weird silence)
Me: (more uncomfortable laughter) "Ryan had the flu this week. I think he thought for a moment you were speaking to him"
Dr. K: (Politely) "No, I meant you."
Me: "I'm good. Still some bleeding, but mostly good."
Me (to myself): Glad that's settled.
As soon as we shifted back to the PGS results, you could hear and feel the hesitation in the doctors voice. I felt my gut/heart drop. He went on to tell us that we had 3 chromosomally normal embryos out of the 7 that matured well enough to be biopsied/tested and frozen. But then he explained that 1 of our 3 was rated with only 80% confidence that it was normal. We discuss what this means, and by now I've learned that just because we have this 2-3 normal embryos, doesn't mean that they'll implant for sure and leaves us with the possibility of another round of egg retrieval (which we were hoping to avoid for a variety of reasons). My numbers have gone something like this:
25 follicles at start of stimulation
17 eggs retrieved
15 matured
12 fertilized
7 made it to day 5-6 for PGS testing and freezing
2-3 Normal/Viable for transfer
We then also weigh in on my age: I am 35 years old, so even if we transfer at the end of the month and the first one works, by the time we are ready to have baby number two I'd be 37 (at the youngest), which statistically means a lesser percentage of viable eggs should we have to do another retrieval at that point. I feel very strongly about having more than one child, and as an only child to older divorced parents, I always swore to myself that I would have a big family and not leave my children going through life alone. I also feel desperate to start my family and like I've waited long enough. It feels like fighting against the clock and no matter how hard we work we can't seem to catch up. I even suggest that we implant two, thinking if we have twins it assures our children of a sibling and we'd catch up a bit (in terms of age) so we can still walk down the stairs without a cane by the time our kids are 10 (this is me joking...but, I hope, you get my point). I worry that he's going to think I want twins because Beyonce just announced she's having twins. That isn't why I want twins, but I wouldn't be mad at having something in common with Queen Bey.
Dr. K tells us that the idea of transferring two makes him uncomfortable. He explains that it wouldn't be medically responsible (in our specific case), as it risks our children having developmental problems and would make me a high risk pregnancy. I understand all of what he is saying, and agree, but on the inside I am panicking and thinking that I am just as healthy and responsible as other people I know who are having twins and this too just seems unfair. I feel like a spoiled child a lot lately...EVERYTHING is unfair!
He offers to tell us the sex of the embryos (I almost typed babies, but had to stop myself...as thinking of them as babies makes it harder as the numbers diminish). We decide to wait on knowing the sex for now, but he accidentally hints that they may be all one sex (another reason why we might want to do another round of retrieval, should we want to have a "balanced" family).
**Here is a little secret: (and we can hopefully, one day see if I'm right)...I've known in my heart that this round would be all girls. I've even named the first one (I won't share that just yet)...but it's pretty and I love it.
We wrap up the conversation and decide to think over the costs and time commitments associated with our potential additional round of egg retrieval and agree to let them know in the next week or two. I sit in silence in the conference room and send Ryan's call to voicemail. I push on the bruise at the top of my right hand and look at the small hole where the IV was placed for my surgery on Tuesday. I think about how exhausting it's been hiding what I'm doing from my colleagues and boss. I think of the two (now three) pregnant girls at work and about the gossip I heard that I was mad that one of them was pregnant (that wasn't true). I think about the baby shower I have to go to tomorrow, and how I'll need to smile and be happy for my friend even though this hurts. I push on my bruise again and wish the bruise hurt more than my heart.
I know this isn't the worst news there could be and have guilt for not having more immediate gratitude that we have what we have...and I know I'll get there, but today it hurts.
"My name is Evelyn...and I'm trying to make a baby..."
(FEBRUARY 4, 2017)