This is not the blog post I was meant to be writing. It was meant to be 4 weeks later and a lot happier.
Some of you may have guessed from our relative silence about the whole thing that our most recent embryo transfer wasn’t a complete failure. You’d have been right – on St. Patrick’s Day I learned I was pregnant. On April 1st we had our 6-week scan and everything looked on track with a perfect little heart-beat and everything. We had a small bit of bleeding later that evening, but as it didn’t continue, we managed to curtail our panic, and follow along the usual path. Things seemed fine and normal; I felt a little queasy, I felt a little achey, we both felt ecstatic and hopeful.
Yesterday morning, at the 8-week scan, we learned that our tiny baby no longer had a beautiful heart-beat, and seemed to have stopped growing at some point the previous week. We were, and are feeling pretty kicked and heartsore. I don’t really feel like talking about it, and I’m not sure when I will. But I suppose I wanted to not hide it either. He (or she) lived for a while. His heart beat and now it doesn’t anymore, and we feel a very very keen loss.
So, what now? Apparently we wait. For reasons of protocol, we must wait until a second scan on Wednesday to “confirm” before I can stop taking progesterone and oestrogen. But don’t let that fool you into thinking there is hope, there isn’t, this is just procedure. (So please don’t ask me if it “just might be too early” or anything like that, because it hurts to try to explain again).
After that, we wait and hope I miscarry naturally (the very thought of which makes me shake with fear), because the alternative is a D&C and that could impact future conception.
After that … well, I wonder if things would be different if we didn’t have four frozen embryos still waiting for us. I don’t know when we’ll cycle again. Decisions like that are a long way in the future, but I think we will try again. We’re slowly getting through the hours at the moment, functioning as best we can, crying sometimes and holding each other a lot. We don’t regret in the slightest the people we told of our pregnancy, for they got to celebrate the happiness of the brief new life, and mourn with us and support us now.
Today we planted a small garden for Aramis (that was his embryo name, after René d’Aramis de Vannes from the Three Muskateers) and our other 3 muska-embryos. One of the little rose bushes is called “Dawn Chorus”, the other “Thinking of You”. (You can click to see bigger images.) It helped a bit.