Love. Faith. Hope. Pregnant.
April 22, 2019 was the day of our frozen embryo transfer. It felt like Christmas. It was a holy week, the day after Easter, and a beautiful day to witness a miracle. It also happened to be Earth Day. Michael joked saying we were going to plant quite the seed. Transfer day is a really special day. You’re given your report time, to show up, and then if all goes well, they transfer what you will hope become your baby some day, and you’re awake and alert processing every second. Michael and I got to the office in plenty of time. I most certainly was scared, excited, and anxious, but all I could truly think about was how bad I had to pee. The doctors ask you to come with a full bladder so it’s easier for them to see everything on the ultrasound. I was doing everything I could not to wet myself. I sat on my feet, hands, and tried to find just about anything that would distract me for just a moment, so I could feel at ease. Finally they called us back. Dr. Weissman was handling my procedure. I haven’t seen her since she tortured me with the HSG test. She walked us through what was going to happen, but all I could think about was not peeing all over the place. She stepped out and in came our embryologist. It was Katia, the young lady that made sure every single day I was up to speed with our little embabys’ development. It was nice to be able to thank her in person. She told us the thawing of our embryo went great, and it was time for the transfer. We signed a paper agreeing we were only transferring one embryo, and off she went to get our ‘one.’ Dr. Weissman and one of the IVF nurses came in and got me all set up. The beginning felt just like a pap smear. Then came the longest two minutes ever as we waited for Katie to put the embryo into a catheter that would be used to transfer our baby. Michael grabbed my hand, and I started to breathe again. In came Katia. She carefully passed off the catheter to the doctor, who then strategically got it right into position for a smooth transfer. Michael and I stared at the screen, our eyes wide. We had no idea what we were looking at or for. Then Katia pointed to the smallest little speck. There he/she was slowly moving towards my uterus, where he/she would hopefully stick around for a while. It was the coolest thing I have ever seen, and if you blinked, well you would have missed it. The transfer was complete. Katia took the catheter back to the lab where she triple checked all of the embryo was released and then came back to report it was a clean transfer. I was then instructed to lye there for ten minutes, before we were discharged and on our way. Katia handed me a picture of the little embaby that was transferred, and I was instantly flooded with emotions. I looked at Michael and together we smiled. In just a moments time we became beaming proud parents. We did our part. The doctors, nurses, and embryologist did their part. Now it was up to our little fighter, who we already loved so much. Once I got home it was bed rest for two days. For a week after that I kept it very easy. Every chance I got I was sitting down with my feet up and or sleeping. I wasn’t taking any chances. Often I felt my mind wonder to the year prior. Just one year ago we were telling our parents we were trying, but failing, and to think, in just a couple of weeks we could potentially be able to tell our parents we never gave up, and it was all worth it. The thought brought me so much happiness.
The day of my transfer I looked myself in the mirror and said, “You did enough. You are enough.” I pictured the transfer, I pictured the day I got the news, and I truly saw my life moving forward. After the transfer, I allowed myself to focus on nothing but those thoughts. That’s until the day of telling. The news was coming, and I did not feel any different. I woke up discouraged, and immediately started to guard myself. I was preparing myself for heartbreak. It’s all I’ve ever known this entire journey. I take two steps forward and six back. Why should today be any different? I told Michael that morning it didn’t work. Despite, being so positive up until this point, despite feeling what I think was the baby when it implanted, I was losing hope. Michael, who is usually very even keeled, looked me straight in the eye and said, “it did work. Today we are going to get good news.” Once he left for work I went to my little prayer box a family member gave me as a gift. I keep it in my closet. The idea is, you write down what you’re worried about, close the box, and leave the rest to God. So I did just that. I took out a piece of paper, and started to write, “God I am scared. I trust you, but I am scared. Please let today be a good day.” I closed the box, closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and walked away. The best thing you can do for yourself and for your future miracle at this point in time is to keep the faith. Allow yourself to truly believe that now is your time.
May 1, 2019 was the day of the phone call. I could have tested before, but I had heard too many horror stories of a false negative, sometimes even a false positive tests. I didn’t want to put myself through that. I took the day off of work, because let’s be honest… Was I supposed to take that call in my office? Michael was supposed to go away on business, but luckily he got out of that. He hugged and kissed me before I left for my BETA and told me to text him when I got the news. He told me he would come home right away. I walked into the fertility office quieter than usual. The girls all wanted to know how I was feeling. I felt the same, and that scared me. They told me to just keep thinking positive thoughts. The bloodwork took all of five minutes and I was out the door. Now came the worst part, the part that is unavoidable on this journey, the waiting. I was told the call would come anywhere between 2 and 4pm. I did my best to keep myself busy for most of the morning. I cleaned, I attempted a nap, I did some work, and then I started to read my book. I wasn’t anticipating a call until closer to 4, so it took me by great surprise when just after two my phone started to ring. I could hardly say hello. It was one of the IVF nurses, Veronica. I tried to picture her face, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the life changing news she was about to give me from the other side of the phone. My heart was pounding. She sounded stressed. She told me it had been a tough day. She then went on to say, “that’s why I am so happy to finally be able to deliver good news. Jennifer, you’re pregnant.” I cried the happiest tears of my life in that moment. She sat there in silence, with what I assume the most gratifying smile. How special for her, to be able to turn someone’s life around with just one sentence. She congratulated me, and we began discussing what came next. All of this was a blur to me. I just kept crying. All I could think about was being able to tell Michael.
Once I was finally able to compose myself, I sent Michael the text, just like he told me to. “I got the news.” Michael of course broke his own plan when he text me back, “Andddddd…” I did not answer. He called me, and I answered. I was crying again. I told him I refused to tell him the news over the phone. Then I hung up on him. This of course scared him to death. The entire drive home he thought nothing, but bad thoughts. I paced around our house frantically. Every two minutes, peeking out the window looking for his car, just the way I was nine years ago waiting for him to pick me up for our first date. When he finally pulled up, I ran to the fridge to grab the beer I have waited almost two years to give him. The label read, ‘Guess what? You’re gonna be a Daddy.’ Michael walked in shouting, “there’s no way that didn’t work” (That’s the censored version). I appeared around the corner with the biggest smile. His eyes softened. I handed him the beer, and together we held each other and cried.
No one can prepare you for this significant moment in your life. No one can tell you when, where, or how it will go down. What I can tell you is that in just an instant, life will change. For us, it was a glimpse of the most rewarding and beautiful future we were always meant to live together. Our lives were given new meaning, and it made everything leading up to this very moment, worth it.
Just a little proof, that miracles do happen.