The weekend both America & The Powers lost

Ok, well maybe this IVF stuff isn’t the silver bullet that I thought it was going to be, BUT I was sure that when we put in our second set of embryos that one of them would make us a baby. I mean think about it, success rates are typically 40%. Then let’s do some simple math… we put 4 embryos in, and one takes then that is a 25% success rate. Right?? Ok, well maybe that’s not how it works but that’s what gave me hope.

Hope is a funny thing when dealing with fertility, or lack there of. You grapple with it like Mike Tyson did with Evander Holyfield in that crazy boxing match in 1997 (yes, I’m old). Except when it ends up being harder than you ever imagined you start to lose that hope, making you really sad and pissed off… although not enough to bite someone’s ear off. Well, that actually might depend on the hormones I am injecting and the stupid thing you decide to say to me (JK).

Just two short months later, in May of 2017, we geared up to do another FET (frozen embryo transfer). Another 100+ injections, hormone rages, estrogen highs, and a few tears over spilt milk (literally) and we were ready to transfer 2 of our remaining 3 embryos.

This time was going to be it. I just knew it. To be sure I put on 1,204 lucky charms to make sure that it worked. I’m talking every damn thing I owned that oozed positive vibes. A shirt from my Pasion & Purpose retreat in Ecuador, socks with eggs on them, a locket from my mom, charm bracelets with fun mantras on them from my friends, my Buddha necklace that also had a meaningful mantra. Hell, I would have painted my face and did a baby making dance if I thought it would work, or knew how. Guess I should have YouTubed that one.

We thawed two embryos, but unfortunately one did not survive, forcing us to thaw our last one (#5) in order to transfer two. This was it, we were out of embryos if this didn’t work, but good thing I wore all my good vibe shit so it HAD to work.

One thing to note about this transfer was that when they thawed embryo #5 it came out of its shell (that’s likely not the scientific term). The moment the embryologist showed me the photo, just before the transfer, what I saw was an embryo that was desperate to come into this world. I aptly named the little naked embryo Rebel.

From left to right: Meet embryo #3 and Rebel

Rebel was a fighter, she wasn’t going to let that dumb shell or anything keep her down. I knew in my heart Rebel would fight to become our baby.

A few days after the transfer were in Zika-free Aruba for the America’s Cup. Of course one early morning I took a home pregnancy test. Wellllllllll, if I stood in the shower and used that super bright light I could see it…. THERE WAS A LINE. I came out of the bathroom scream crying, waking Aaron up for him to first question if the line was there. Once he stood in the shower and held it to the light he saw it, that line was there dammit. I was right, Rebel was a fighter!

The next morning’s test showed nothing at all… not even if I squinted as hard as possible and put my eyeball next to the light bulb (ladies don’t try that home). Rebel was gone, it was the first and shortest chemical pregnancy I would have. Lab tests later confirmed I was not pregnant. For that one single day in Aruba, I was pregnant. I had hope. It was the happiest day of my life until that point.

America’s Cup 2017, Aruba, putting a smile on and trying to enjoy myself after the morning home test showed that I was no longer pregnant

That weekend on the beautiful island of Bermuda, both Team Oracle (USA) and Team Powers lost, but that doesn’t mean either weren’t ready to keep fighting for a W the next time around.

Not-So-Fun Fact: I also still have that home pregnancy test in my bedside drawer, with Rebel written on it. I never named an embryo again, the loss was just too personal and more emotion in this process than I wanted to feel… ever again if I could help it.