It took three years to conceive our newest arrival. Three long years of injections to manipulate my hormones. Three long years of repeat pregnancy loss. Secondary infertility and pregnancy loss weren’t part of MY plan. I never considered that those two plights would factor into my life. But, both had become part of my life, defining me, changing me.
By the time my fourth embryo transfer on August 19, 2015 rolled around, we had transferred five perfect embryos into my broken uterus. FIVE. Yet still, we had no baby to show for it. There was no reason that this transfer would be any different. However, this transfer was different. We (I mean my doctor) had changed so much in my transfer protocol this time around. He changed so much in fact, that it is impossible to say what might work, and what might not work. So, I held onto hope. The kind of hope that a desperate person musters. A pathetic type of hope. A hope that is nearly irrational, if not completely irrational.
Four days later at 0145, I took the first of probably a hundred home pregnancy tests. Nothing. No second line. Just stark white staring back at me. Crap! Now I have to go back to sleep. Why did I test so early? Rationally, I knew that four days post a five day embryo transfer was too damn early to test, but there it was that pathetic version of hope making me do irrational things, AGAIN. Of course I tested again when I woke at a more reasonable hour. That outcome was the same. Nothing. I was out. My last decent embryo was a bust. Hope was gone.
As irrational as that sounded, this may prove my level of desperation, I continued to pee on HPTs the remainder of that day. It wasn’t until the evening that the faintest of faint lines appeared. A line that resembled the evaporation line that the Internet is full of stories about. A dreaded evap ghost line. So, I did what any rational woman in my situation would do, I tore that test apart. I mean, tore it apart. I also took pictures of it and altered the tones of the photo to make the line more apparent. All of this to convince myself, and anyone else I was showing, that I wasn’t crazy, there was a line. Fortunately, that line grew darker and darker everyday, every time I took a test. Holy shit! I’m pregnant! Crap! As gloom sets in, I know that this is only the beginning of my journey; and thus far, my journey had only ended in pregnancy loss.
Loss wouldn’t be the end of my journey this time. This journey would take me to my little girl. My little fighter. A child who has already in her short life has defied huge odds. A twice frozen, twice thawed, biopsied little embryo, placed into a uterus that had been written off by one doctor as too damaged to carry a pregnancy to term. This is what my pathetic hope brought me…. An angel on earth. A warrior.