2 for the price of 1

Picture this scene… It’s transfer time. I’m lying on the table, knees spread nice and wiiiiiide apart, bright light shining on my could-be-manicured-a-little-better womanhood, speculum wrenching my girlie bits wide, painfully inserted catheter hanging out, 400 pound gorilla pushing the ultrasound probe on my full bladder so hard I think it’s going to pop like a well-fed tick. Everyone is gathered ‘round my crotch staring with an intensity so sharp that I expect them to start munching on popcorn and Raisinettes at any moment.

Mr. Hot-But-I-Look-Dumb Embryologist comes with in our 3 fabulous embies, glances at my fully-exposed private parts (with nary a complimentary word, hmmph), and hands the embryos to the Doctor. Said Doctor pushes the plunger and shazam! In go our embies. Much celebrating and high-fiving occurs.

Now we all sit very still for 1 minute to let things “rest.” Everyone in the room is clothed except me. Everyone in the room has their sexual organs covered except me. Everyone in the room is staring at my crotch except me.* It’s a super-dee-duper comfortable situation.

The Doctor smiles, says that everything went “perfect” and gives the catheter to Mr. HBILD Embryologist to check and make sure none of the embryos got “stuck” and left behind in the catheter. Since this really never happens, we all assume it’s fine and they begin to dismantle the scene – the sonographer starts cleaning up the 14 pounds of goo she put on my abdomen to slide the probe around, the Doctor takes out the speculum and begins to lower the table. I start dreaming of baby names.

Suspiciously, that damn Embryologist isn’t back yet. Ms. Doctor sticks her head out the door into the Lab and asks, “All clear?” I’m sure you can guess where this is going.

Sure enough, one of the embryos is stuck in the catheter. The Doctor quickly covers and says, “Oh, it’s not a big deal, it happens.” To which I reply, “Really? How often?” She says, “About 5% of the time.” Great. She then spent lots of time reassuring me that this will not affect the outcome of embryonic health of our future child(ren). Amazingly, I didn’t freak out, I just sort of accepted it.

So, as I was supposed to be letting the wave of peace and calm overtake me, instead I was basically enjoying a 2nd transfer. Lather, rinse, repeat. Raise the table up, let your knees fall to the side, insert the speculum, jab in the catheter, slime me with goo and crush my bladder/uterus, etc. Big fun. However, this time, that 3rd one made it to the other side. To the oasis that is my Enclave.

Everyone present agreed that if that 3rd one is the one that sticks, we have a long road ahead of us because it will have been a troublemaker since before it entered the womb. Great, just great.

I wanted to name the embies Frick, Frack and Trouble. That got vetoed. I think we are going to settle on The SuperHeroes: Batman, Robin and Spidey**. I chose Batman and Robin because those two sailed right in together with no problem. Spidey is the one with the sticky feet who refused to climb on out of the catheter. Hopefully the 3 of them are in there, solving crimes (such as oh, I don’t know, The Mystery of the Multiple Miscarriages) and saving all of uterine humanity. I’m proud of them already.

So there you have it. The Tale of the Two Transfers. I don’t recommend it. However, if this cycle works, then I could have gladly endured 200 transfers in a row if that’s what was necessary.

Beta is set for September 20th. Yeah, about 100 years away. Seriously, they purposely schedule it for 18dpo. Isn’t that insane? Whatever. I will be POAS next Wednesday (10dpo). Kevin asked me not to, but I simply cannot refrain. I just can’t, I’m not that person. I’m the kind that pees on sticks. I guess he knows that because the other day he said, “You’ll have to tell me when you start taking home tests, because I know you will.” This is why I married him.

* I let Kevin read this before I posted it and he was quick to point out that HE wasn’t getting to stare at my crotch. I think he said it in an effort to make me feel better, but really it just underscored that 4 other complete strangers were oogling me while, once again, my poor husband is left out of the process. Talk about demystifying the passion of babymaking…

** Obviously, I shamelessly stole the inspiration for our embryo names from Erin. Now hop over there and send her some sticky vibes for the Wonder Twins!