Eight years ago on Halloween, Alec, Gem and I left a party early to go home and make sure I had my injection. It was to be perfectly timed or everything could fail. Again.
On that 1st of November, eight years ago, we drove to a fancy doctor in Beverly Hills to try. Again.
It was my best friend’s birthday so that should have been the first good sign that things were different. This time.
This time would be the last time. We both knew it without speaking those words to each other. Even if it went wrong. Again.
So eight years ago today, we waited for our life to change for the last time. We waited for numbers that meant the doctors would smile. Numbers they would tell us out in the open and not behind the closed door of their office. Numbers they wanted those around us to hear so they too could be hopeful that it could work for them. This time.
And five days later, another good number because you want five not three, we returned to that same office to complete this part of the IVF journey. Again and for the last time.
There were four embryos, but we would only be allowed three. As the embryologist, the twins first ever babysitter, entered the room with the bizarre transfer tube, there was a problem with the set up and he insisted that he would have to take them back until we were absolutely ready. We couldn’t afford to damage them. I began to curse fate because I was conditioned to disappointment by then. I knew it was going too well this time.
The doctor sorted things on my *um* end and called for the embryologist to come back. When he returned he announced that in the moments that he had them under the microscope again, one of the other embryos became a better candidate so he swapped that one with one of the original three. That little bit of trouble was a actually a good thing and to this day, I am convinced that little late bloomer was our lucky Clover. Eight years ago this week, we did our final round of IVF that resulted in the amazing and wonderful Clover and Kieran. While our delightful Gemma was a honeymoon baby who came as a happy and easy surprise after not really trying at all, there was a lot of heartbreak to complete our family. If you have been an online friend since the Flickr days, you might remember some of that darkness. If you are a more recent friend, you might not know, but it isn’t because I want to hide it. I often get asked if twins run in my family (and as it happens, my sister had twins as well) I say “No, they don’t really, but they certainly do run in IFV.”
Even with missed focus on a camera phone, you can see their connection.
So today I celebrate those who are brave enough to go through it again. One last time…again.
Help me celebrate by clicking VOTE in this link to push me towards my goal of donating $2500.00 to Postpartum Progress to help mothers survive the cruel twist of maternal mental illness like I did.