Our Final Transfer. Lucky Embryo #3

Can I just preface this by saying how DIFFICULT it was not wanting to spill all of the beans last month!?

I mean, you guys know I am basically an open book, but at the same time, Mark and I were almost giddy with excitement knowing that just the two of us had this tiny little secret.

It set the table for far less pressure to announce.
I could take my time with different ideas, instead of a quick text or phone call.
I was hoping for something a bit more personal.

However, it sort of did nothing about the whole stalling thing.
After going through one round with a transfer, people sort of knew when to start asking questions...when is your transfer date?, etc.

So, I dodged every bullet I could....oh, I'm not responding as well as they had hoped....or.....oh, the Holidays are extending our timeline a bit because there aren't normal hours....or....I'm on a different protocol this time, so it's longer.

Secrets and lies, folks. Secrets and lies.

I DID have a different protocol the second round, but mainly due to time constraints.
When our first transfer results came in at the end of September, it was too late to jump on the mid-October transfer cycle, so the next available opening was early November.

Exactly 37 days after our failure, we transferred our last babe.

I will never forget this day, because HELLO, it actually worked, but more significantly for every other Chicagoan....the Cubs won the World Series that evening.

And here I was thinking all those fireworks were for lil' ole' me. :)

November 2nd wasn't without it's share of crazy, though.
If you Midwestern-ers don't really remember, it rained that day.
Really, really hard, in fact. (that's what she said)

And because I was in my super zen mode that morning, I failed to plan accordingly to accommodate
a slower commute due to the weather.

Because guys, I really really needed to eat my biscuits and jelly before I hopped in the shower.
#priorities

We were scheduled to arrive at the Highland Park center at 10:45am.

And instead of leaving with 45 minutes to arrive at the facility, for a normal, perfect-weather commute.....we left at roughly 10:15am...in the pouring rain.

I made sure to pack my jug of water and valium, and left wearing a hoodie, yoga pants, and didn't give a second thought to make-up or hair.

Mark came downstairs looking like some freakin' baller from a rap video.
Why do you have all that jewelry on?

It's all my lucky stuff.
We need luck.

Good thinking...I said, and ran upstairs to put on a few lucky items of my own.
I also tucked into my purse, a flying pig figurine given by my mom as a gift a few years back.
And haven't taken it out since.

The entire ride I kept getting more and more nervous.
I told Mark I should email our nurse, so they don't worry, but he kept telling me we would look irresponsible if I did, and that we'd only be 5 minutes late anyways.

Wrong.

At 10:50am I got a call from the facility.....um hi Tia...just want to make sure you are still planning to arrive for transfer?

I went into complete freak out mode...semi-lamaze-breathing through my spiel.

OMG...YES....I'M SO SORRY, I DIDN'T PLAN WELL AND MY HUSBAND TOLD ME NOT TO CALL AND WE ARE SO CLOSE AND I WILL RUN INSIDE AND PLEASE DON'T BUMP US.

She said ok and hung up.

SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. SHIT.

At this point I'm basically telling Mark he needs to start going around people and blowing red lights.....only to end up behind the BIGGEST semi-truck in the entire world, that couldn't easily take right-hand turns.

AWESOME.

We finally get the the center at 10:57...Mark doesn't even come to a complete stop as I literally roll out of the car and waddle into the building.

I am frantically punching the elevator buttons... downdowndowndown...openopenopenopen....closeclosecloseclose.

Finally busted through the doors of the center.
No one else is in the waiting room.

Shit...we were last.

I sign in, still apologizing like a mad-woman.
They slap on my wrist band, immediately call me back, dump me in the room and tell me start getting dressed in my paper gown.

I stop, pop my Valium, and finish getting assembled when Mark walks in, leaving the door WIDE OPEN with my BARE ASS exposed to these poor victims.

Who knew we were on such a tight timeline?
Within minutes, we had finished our paperwork, signed over the disposal of our abnormal embryos, and were being escorted back to the transfer room.

The transfer, again, went perfectly.
I shed zero tears this time, and instead, just tried to calm my fucking breathing and focus on the moment.

Our little embryo, in my eyes, resembled a tiny Slimer...so that's what I called him for the remaining of the two week wait, as I would often talk to my stomach.

He was lucky #3. In our second egg retrieval, of the seven eggs retrieved, he was the third one counted. That's how our facility gave him that number.

Side note: After getting the second retrieval results that one had made it biopsy, (this embryo was the first one we collected), I distinctly remember coming home from work and kind of jokingly telling Mark...."wouldn't it be hilarious if this is the one that worked!? If only we had a crystal ball to tell us we didn't need to do anymore rounds of IVF."

Hilarious indeed.

We were literally in and out of the center in 12 minutes.
I was high as a kite at this point, and we headed home....in complete sunshine.

I spent the rest of the day sleeping and being a total couch potato...all the way through the Cubs win!

All this to say....it's okay if your transfer doesn't go as smooth as silk. Sometimes a bit of chaos can bring good luck!

Stay tuned for my symptoms tracking during the two weeks between transfer and beta!
Thanks for reading and all your well wishes! We are still so beyond excited!

XO