If you have read all of my past posts you would first know that there is a gap of about 12 months where this post under “hopes in a petri dish” take off. Looking back, I can’t really explain the writing sabbatical. In part I felt like the whole thing was a bit self indulgent and as I’ve previously explained in an earlier post I had a bit of a fear that the IVF journey was consuming me and defining me. Couple this with work, family, marriage, a diabetic cat and a few holidays in between I stopped writing. What I didn’t do was stop trying to have a baby and I didn’t stop spending thousands of dollars in attempting to do so. The last 12 months were probably more of the same – more of Dr M, more acupuncture, more injections and more of a patient and kind MM who kept me going.
In November 2012 we commenced another cycle and readers would not be surprised to learn that at pick up stage we got one egg. I was living up to my reputation as the one egg wonder girl. It was Friday morning when I had the final scan before pick up that Dr M broke the news that we only had one egg. Given my history with the one egg situation Dr M and I knew that on Monday we’d be going to egg pick up. As I was preparing to leave his rooms that morning though he said to me “I like the look of this one dear, see you Monday.” On the way to work, MM and I were in the car together (we’d had a work function the night before). My kind husband asked if I was okay and I think back to that moment when I answered him and it reminds me of a very low moment. I wasn’t okay and I remember feeling like I’d hit the bottom of the IVF journey. I started blabbering about going overseas for donor eggs; I was desperate and felt hopeless. In that one single moment I felt as vulnerable as I’d ever felt. MM was calm and reassuring and he said ‘we only need one.’
Fast forward a two week wait that for the most part was uneventful. There was only one thing that felt different and that was my head. I was a complete scatterbrain. I was forgetful, erratic and my mind and heart was messy. I remember going to the ATM and withdrawing $200 and leaving it there. I was so annoyed at myself for doing this and the only saving grace was that I was really hopeful that whoever collected the $200 really needed it. A charity donation of sorts.
On Thursday 6 December I dutifully rang Dr M’s office for the results. I was very mentally prepared for a no but I have to admit something felt different. Not so much physically, and not even in the way women say they “just know” even as I type this I shake my head trying to get the explanation out in words. I assume the receptionists already know the results when you ring in. I’ve been in the waiting room when they’ve taken these calls so I kind of know that they get a report first thing in the morning before they tell all of the ivf’ers to start phoning in. Anyway, when the receptionist asked me to repeat my date of birth I swear I could hear the smile in her voice. She said to me “Merry Christmas Tracey”. In that moment everything thing that I’d had to endure to hear her then say, “Yes, it’s positive” was worth it and then some.
Shock. Relief. Grateful. So very grateful.
I was pregnant.