The call from the embryologist came early this morning. I could tell straight away the news wasn’t great, her tone of voice was a dead giveaway. Out of nine eggs retrieved only 2 fertilised. It’s not all bad obviously, we still have two, but to go from nine to two was a bit devastating. Still, I’m trying to remain positive. While initially I was hoping to have some to freeze (so we won’t have go through this entire process again) I’m now just praying we have one that makes it to transfer stage. Five hours ago I was close to euphoric, stoked that we’d got nine eggs, now I’m in a constant state of worry.
What’s making it even worse is that it’s all my fault. I know it’s not something I can control – I’ve been eating well, exercising, taking the appropriate supplements, getting regular acupuncture – but it’s hard not to feel guilty all the same. According to the embryologist there’s absolutely nothing wrong with my hubby’s swimmers but 4 of my eggs were immature, 1 was abnormal, and 2 they have no idea about…but they didn’t work. I’ve known all along that the issues were mine (thanks endo) but to have it reinforced again really sucks. I’m starting to fear that we’ll be one of those couples forever on the infertility train.
Later in the day comes call number two, and our transfer is booked in for day 3 (in two days’ time). They don’t want to wait longer than day 3 as I only have two embryo’s and they don’t want to risk them not making it to day 5. At least we have a plan….fingers crossed it works.