And so today arrived. I got my usual call in the morning to make sure we were still alive and happy to progress with transfer. It was a new embryologist, I never met her before, somehow I was hoping that Ivy would have handled my embryos. But ah well. As always they have to tell you that they will defrost one at the time (in our case we wanted a single embryo transferred) and should the first one not survive they go ahead with the next one and so on. If I didn't hear anything then come to the clinic for 3.30. Transfer scheduled for 4.
I went on with my day and for 3.30 we were at the clinic. I was called almost immediately to the pre-transfer area and I kept drinking a bit as I usually pace myself not to be too full.
Here things started going not so well. Mike found a newspaper and just started reading it. So much for company and support. I had to tell him it wasn't very nice for me to watch him reading the newspaper. 4 came and went. By 4.20 I was literally in pain my bladder was bursting. I sent Mike to the nurses to see what the hold up was. Sorry we are a bit behind, she can use the toilet to relieve the pressure but it'll only be a few more minutes. So I waited. The usual theatre nurse came to get us, and brought us to theatre. She scanned me and my bladder was a balloon! I decided to pee a bit. By the time I came back I was again in pain. It was 4.45 by now. I had to go a second time. Furthermore, today there was the female boxing final at the Olympics and an Irish boxer was going for gold. At 4.45. Everyone seemed to care just about that. It really wasn't a nice feeling. Not only I couldn't give a shit about it, but boxing is my absolute least favourite sport. Anyway, the embryologist came in to tell us they only had to defrost one embryo, so we still have 4 in storage. This embryo by the time of the transfer had started to re-expand, so I think she was optimistic it has a chance. Me not so much. But I'm sure it's because of all the emotional surroundings of the day. When we transferred Oliver, by the time of transfer it had fully expanded and it looked like it had never been frozen. This one is definitely slower. The Fav Doc did the transfer, it was over very quickly and I was wheeled back to recovery room just in time so that Mike could rush out to see the end of the boxing. So there I was, bladder bursting and unable to get up from the bed. A nurse came in to say she just couldn't watch the match she felt so anxious and off she went again. Ireland got a gold medal, lots of cheers from the crowd outside my cubicle, the telly happened to be just outside. Mike came in for a second and off he went again. At this stage I was really getting upset. I had to call Mike to help me get up and finally pee. I had a knot in my throat and just wanted to go and pick up Oliver. Which I actually cannot lift now for a few days. Such an anticlimax. I sent Mike to get the nurse, I had enough. I had to listen for the 7th time to all the recommendations which always end in "stay positive, it can and it does work".
I am at home now, I won't be going into work tomorrow, not that I think bed rest is necessary at all, but I also don't think I have ever felt so negative about a cycle so soon to be honest. And sure I know even in the absence of an important sport final, doctors and nurses are just working, but it's just so much nicer when you think it actually matters to some one else other than you only. I also know my feelings are completely irrelevant to the outcome of this transfer, I won't feel guilty one bit for being upset. Mike specially really let me down, but I wonder why I keep getting surprised. You know I gave him a voucher gift last Christmas for an hour with a pilot in a flight simulator? It took ages to find it, I was so so happy I got that idea, I was sure he would have loved it, and maybe he did, but he actually has not done it yet. Why do I bother, seriously, is it me expecting too much?