Transfer Day!

It's transfer day! Today I am reunited with my little acorn.
I woke up at 4:30am this morning and even though it was almost 30 minutes before the alarm clock would go off I couldn't stand to stay in bed for even one more minute. So up and at 'em. I took a shower, got dressed, cut up a cantaloupe for breakfast, and started the very uncomfortable, at least for me, process of filling my bladder. We left the house a little after 5:00.
The long drive to Chattanooga is luckily absolutely gorgeous in the mornings. We have to cross monteagle mountain which is small compared to the mountains out west but large in this area. In the mornings the sun rises in the direction we are traveling and low lying fog clouds carress the valleys and shadows left behind. Some mornings it looks like fluffy pink crowns haloing the green mattress of the mountains. Others it looks like at any moment you will cross through this dense wall of white and come out on a magical land on the other side. Of course the other side is never too magical just more interstate and beautiful tennessee countryside. Further on down the line if we get an early enough start we cross the river with its floating green islands, fog steaming off the surface and glistening streaks of brilliant white, orange, and pink cascading in brilliant water color. It is a beautiful trip.
This morning however I was so concentrated on my overly full bladder and the excitement building that I probably didn't notice too much of the beauty around me. I guess since I got a slightly earlier start I was a little too full by the time we reached the clinic. I paced in little circles trying desperately to hold my bladder, oh my. But thankfully they got me back rather quickly cause it was becoming an iffy situation. Shane explained that our acorn was now a grade 1 morula and looked great, just about a half a day behind which should be nothing to worry about and then handed me a picture, that I barely had time to look at. With my husband by my side they took me back in the room. Which immediately tried to set up nerves since it was the same room from my ER. I talked myself down quickly in my head. This would not hurt. Shane called my name and birthdate out from the window as she brought our little acorn out and confirmed that we were transferring one beautiful embryo. There was a lot of pressure on that poor bladder between the ultrasound on my stomach and the speculum. And then there was a little bit of an issue with the catheter. Apparently Dr. Murray said that it actually looked like my bladder was alittle too full and causing everything to kinda bend. So he had to put  just a tiny crook in the end to get our little acorn into position. He set off on this odd little speech about the little engine that could and how this was the little embryo that could. He called it robust. Afterwards I raced to the bathroom for a little relief, got dressed, and after a short instructional briefing headed back home.
I keep staring at the little picture they gave us of our acorn. My fingertips gently grazing the shiny surface. It doesn't look like much more than a little bubble. But at the same time I know that potentially this could be the very first photo of my child. That little bubble could grow and grow and one day look up at me with big glassy eyes and a gummy smile.

We are over the moon excited at this point. I am officially PUPO and plan to enjoy every second of this momentous time that I can. I am sending tons of loving sticky vibes at my little acorn, envisioning myself as a fertile earth where the little acorn can be planted and grow to its full potential.
In 9 days I go back for my beta. 9 days seems like forever and no time all at once. DH and I decided together that we'll be going beta or bust, so we'll see if I can keep myself away from the pee sticks come next week.
Its apparently also been decided amongst my family that I should do nothing for the entirety of this time and beyond if we're successful. The way everyone talks I'm a little afraid they're going to wind up locking me in a padded room for 9 months, even my father who is normally very 'you can do everything I can do and should' not too mention excruciatingly anti-lazy.

Monday Phone Call

I am relieved that our embryologist did in fact decide to peek on our little acorn this morning. These early morning phone calls have kept me going, kept the hope alive that this is all going to work out. Our clinic changes grading criteria today. Previously they had been looking at growth, symmetry, fragmentation, and cell size. Our little acorn has held on strong at the number 1 grade in these areas. But today they throw those criteria out the window and start looking at how compact the embryo is becoming. I am imagining it in my head like a flower bloom. You want it to open up at first and then close back in. Or like a supernova sci-fi explosion. Bam out into the world and then suck back into place. In this area of grading our acorn has fallen to 4. If they were still grading it the other way Shane said it would still be a 1 as it is now 14 cells and still has absolutely no fragmentation. She expects acorn to be a late stage morula or an early stage blastocyst by transfer. So while I'm disappointed acorn is now graded as a 4 I'm still very happy about the fragmentation part and the fact that it is still growing, still dividing away.
My transfer is bright and early tomorrow morning at 8:00 chattanooga time. I am thrilled to announce that my darling husband has decided to use a little more of his comp time from work so that he can be there for the occasion. I am thrilled. It slightly bothered me to the think that at the moment I technically become pregnant with his child that he would be 4 hours away. I have taught him the slang term PUPO and he is now using it at random to show his excitement.
We have talked about how weird this experience has been so far, how polarising. It is hard to explain the immense levels of excitement we feel that are shadowed so completely on the other end by this crushing fear.
I feel like I'm walking a tightrope. One side is hope and excitement and the other fear and sadness. If I lean too far one way or the other I cannot help but feel that I am doomed. So I'm walking this very thin line borrowing a little bit of each in my hands to keep balanced.

Sunday Phone Call

Last night I saw the most beautiful amazing thing. We were driving home from the mexican restuarant, not my finest decision but we'll get to that, and all of a sudden the sky started to lighten. I leaned forward to look up and out the windshield half expecting to see like a helicopter or something. Instead I saw a large globule of light plunging across the sky. As it reached the zenith it turned brilliant green and then poof. Exploded into hundreds of thousands of tiny white embers. I stared awestruck. I don't know what it was. I want to think that it was a beautiful shooting star and a wonderful omen. I know rationally that it could just as well have been a stray firework or flare gun or space debris. There's really no telling for sure but it was beautiful.
TMI Alert : So odd to start my night off with something so spectacular considering how the rest of it went. At around 10:30 while I sitting in bed waiting the prescribed hour between my estrace and endometrium pills I started to cramp. Sharp mean cramps. They would fade in and then fade out leaving me breathless at first with their intentisty and then 15 minutes later come back around. I immediately went to the bad scenerio of it might be the medications. But then again everytime we eat mexican I have to use the bathroom. In fact in previous years after mexican was the only time I got a good bowel movement. That's changed recently but I digress. I assumed that maybe that was a cause and here in a few minutes I'd be sent charging to the bathroom to empty myself. That never happened. What happened instead was from 10:30pm to 5:30 am I had cramps off and on every 15 minutes of the night. I was able to use the bathroom a couple of times but it was a strain and not the usual mass exodus. This morning I am still kinda sore from all the repeated interior clenching. I plan on going to the store and getting some fiber rich foods since I was warned that the endometrium and estrace could cause severe constipation. Maybe I'll even get some metamuciel like the old folks do. 
All of that however made my 8:00 phone call come really early. Shane our embryologist called with our acorn's daily report. Still a grade 1, our little embryo has grown from 4 cells to 7. At this point they like to see it be an 8 cell. So even though our beautiful embryo is a grade 1 with perfect symmetry and no fragmentation that little difference is enough to make me worry. I know right now I shouldn't worry there's really no reason to but its so hard not to. Shane has decided to peek in on our acorn tomorrow and see how its doing since we are coming from so far away. That in and of itself also worries me. Is she afraid that our embryo will arrest between today and Tuesday and that we'll come down there bright and early only to discover there will be no transfer? See what happens always going to the dark place. That's what IF does to you I guess.

Saturday Phone Call

I rolled over and looked at the clock this morning it was 8:30. Almost an hour late. I couldn't help but for my mind to immediately go to why haven't they called yet? Is something wrong? Did our acorn arrest? And as I'm laying in bed trying desperately to keep the dark thoughts from spiraling out of control as they seem so wont to do anymore, the phone rings. At 8:45. I think I let it ring once before I picked up, just long enough to check the caller id and know it was the clinic. On the other line was Shane our embryologist. I tried to pick apart her greeting and her tone in seconds and failed.
She continued on in her pleasant even tone and told me again of the grading system they have in place and what should be expected at this point in an embryo's development. I'm practically holding my breath. Then she tells me that our little acorn is a grade 1 4 cell. Grade 1 is their highest grade. She tells me that its right where it should be and looks pretty well perfect. Yes she uses the word perfect. I can't help but be overjoyed at this point. Grade 1 embryos statistically almost always make it the blastocyst stage. Which are so many more times more likely to implant than one who does not make it to that stage. Right now I'm trying to curb my excitement but for the moment I am just overjoyed to have gotten this far and that it looks like we'll definitely have a transfer. Which just blows my mind! Maybe maybe it really only does take one.
Today I also started my vaginal suppositories, bleck. I have to take 2mg of Estrace twice a day and 3 tablets of endometrin over the course of a day. If our little acorn is the one, if thats our little one growing down there in Chattanooga every second of this journey will have been worth it.

Friday Phone Call

At 7:45 this morning our embryologist called to let us know that our little acorn has definitely fertilized and is happily growing.
After a crap night where I battled nausea and stomach pain for most of the night the news couldn't have been better. For a brief moment I was estatic and completely forgot about the discomfort I was in. She also told me that tomorrow's call will bring our little acorn's grade and with that a hint at it's long term viability. I am hoping so much for a good grade, a little reassaurance that it will make it to transfer.
It is almost surreal to me to know that there is alittle piece of me and Phil growing slightly alive in a dish several counties away. A little bitty proof of our love in the world.
Today I am still dealing with some stomach pain, nausea, and am terribly gassy. The last of which is actually a little painful. My mom came out to spend the day with me, we had ice cream and played cards and tried to remain chipper and upbeat in all things.

Last night I started my z-pack of antibiotics and this morning I started my methylprednisolone and baby aspirin.  

Egg Retrival Day

I spent last night at my Sara Barielles concert, which I might say was amazing. A few songs in she played 'Hercules' which as you know has kinda been my anthem for the past several months. She took a moment to tell the crowd where the song came from and why she wrote it. Basically she was having a crap year. I can relate. Then she dedicated the song to all the people at there struggling with something and just before she started singing said 'Have hope it will get better'. Even though I was in a crowded outdoor ampitheatre it felt like she could have been talking straight to me and I teared up through the whole song. That lady is simply amazing.
We got home a little after midnight, I jumped in the shower and then to bed. 4:45 comes early. We woke up hurried to get ready and in the car to make it to our 8:15 appt. At 7:15 their time, that's 6:15 mine, I took my prescribed valium and 1/2 percoset. By the time they called me in the back I thought I was feeling pretty good. Mostly calm and teeny tiny bit drowsy but hey that could be the 3 and a half hours sleep talking. I changed into my gown, little booties, and shower cap and waited for them to take me back. It took a few minutes during which the embryologist came out and introduced herself which I thought was really nice. Finally it was time. The second I walked into the big scary room both the drowsy and the calm evaporated. Suddenly I was very nervous. I got settled and stared up at the big white light above me trying desperately not to see the what I kid you not looks like a 3 foot needle. Dr. Scotchie did my procedure and she explained to me everything she was doing as she was doing it but I could not tell you what any of it was because shortly after she started there was just too much pain. So so much pain. I struggled to keep my body from jerking away from her as huge wet tears flooded out. She started on my right side which surprised me because that was where the no longer growing follicle was. By the time she finished aspirating that follicle and somewhere above the pain I heard no egg, I could barely contain the sobs. So she gave me a little break. Just a tiny little one long enough to get my breathing back undercontrol. And then we were at it again. I reached down to my hips and grabbed the table on both sides just as hard as I could. Trying to keep still, trying to focus on something other than the pain. At some point one of the other nurses came in I think to hold my hand but I had a deathgrip on the table and wasn't letting go. Instead I vaguely felt her softly stroking my shoulder and somewhere beyond all the pain I think the Dr. was gently rubbing the inside of my thigh. Light soft touches as she tried to coax me to breath. And then it was over.
They handed me a tissue and asked if I could sit up which aside from my legs almost wanting to tremble off the bed I had no problem with. That's when I found out they had only gotten one egg. I don't know what happened to that other follicle on my left side, but apparently it didn't stick around.
I walked out of the surgery room, the nice nurse that I really like gave me a hug and directed me to the bathroom. There was a little bit of very bright blood on the tissue but thankfully it didn't hurt to go. I changed into my street clothes, a pair of oversized grey yoga pants and my Sara Barielles shirt I'd gotten the night before that reads 'I wanna see you be Brave'. The embryologist came back out and confirmed they had only gotten one egg but that it looked really good, and then she sat down to give me my new sheet of instructions.
I walked out of the clinic and to the car. Where I curled up in the backseat and waited for DH to finish his contribution. Yes, without anethesia they really do let you leave that quickly. For the next hour or so the tears would come and go as they pleased along with all over tremors even though I wasn't cold at all. Nauseousness settled in a little after and the pill they gave me for that appears to be some sort of joke.
At 2 o'clock they called to let us know how things were going. DH answered the phone since I was curled up in bed, pretending to sleep. When they received his sample none of the little swimmers were moving, but after washing them 75% came back around and started swimming. Of course a very large portion of those were abnormal. They told him they were able to find four good ones. Why did they tell him that? I don't really know. After all we only needed one. They let him know that our one egg had undergone ICSI and for all intents and purposes appeared to have taken. I was overjoyed that our little egg was officially something more, and I have dubbed it our little acorn.
From tiny tiny acorns mighty oaks grow.

They tell us that they'll call every day except for Monday to let us know how our little acorn is doing. I dislike that they plan on pushing it to a day 5 transfer. I would think since we already know we can only put back in one that there's no point in waiting, but...apparently the dr. thinks otherwise.

So I'll be waiting with baited breath for that phone call, knowing that all our hopes rest on that little acorn and how strong of a fighter it truly is.