The Tale of Two Wise-embies

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times; it was the time for making babies; it was the time for emptying our wallets.

On Wednesday, my half-birthday, with the help of an anesthesiologist, I took a nap while my RE used a big needle to suck thirty-three eggs out of my swollen ovaries. Meanwhile, Wisehubby braved the ubiquitous man-room of the fertility clinic.

The nurses gave my eggs and Wisehubby's man stuff to a helpful lab rat. She washed and sorted the man stuff to find the best, albeit misshapen, sperm. She used a tiny needle and a powerful microscope to inject twenty-five eggs with sperm for fertilization.

Wisehubby took me home and put me to bed, as I was sore and achy. He pampered me and worried as we waited for a phone call from the lab.

At work the next morning, in the midst of teaching precocious seventh and eighth grade students, the lab rats gave us a call. Fifteen of our embryo babies (embies) were growing, safe and warm in a Petri dish just a few miles away. We were elated, but we couldn't celebrate just yet. Work has a pesky habit of getting in the way.

On Saturday, we received a call that graded our three-day old embies, which were about eight cells big. Four of them were excellent, seven were good, two were average, and two were poor. Wisehubby and I felt relieved, what infertility overachievers our embies were proving to be!

On Monday, we went back to the fertility clinic for a transfer of two embies into their new home, my womb! The nurse gave me a Valium--a first--so that I would stay relaxed during the process. The head lab rat brought us a picture of the two best embies, our Wise-embies ready for transfer. He showed us how the one on the left was stronger than the one on the right because of a stronger outer shell of cells.

Wisehubby and I put on hair nets and our gowns for surgery over our street clothes. I laid down on the bed, and Wisehubby helped the nurses push me into the operating room. They got me all positioned and turned on a monitor for Wisehubby and I to watch the transfer live.

First, they showed us our embies in their dish, all ready to go. The bottom of our dish was labeled with our last name--thank goodness, because Wisehubby was really worried that they might give us someone else's embies. Then, they zoomed in so we could see our embies floating placidly in the dish.

The moment of truth was upon us. They switched to the ultrasound view, and inserted the speculum,
**Side note: I think is that is the WORST part of the whole IVF process. I hate speculums.*** The RE inserted a catheter, which you could watch snaking into my uterus on the screen. Apparently, my bladder was too full and pushing on my uterus, so the RE was struggling to get the catheter in position. Out went the first speculum and in went a second, BIGGER speculum. Ouch. The RE repositioned the catheter and it really was the moment of truth.

The lab rat brought in our embies and gave them to our RE. I was a little bothered that someone without an MD--he's a PhD--was allowed to see my lady bits, but the Valium and the impending transfer of my Wise-embies kept me from protesting.

We watched the grainy screen for about ten seconds, but nothing seemed to change. The RE claimed it was over and removed the catheter and the speculum. Luckily, he had the sonographer rewind and show us exactly the moment of transfer. She was right; there was a little flash at the end of the catheter. Our Wise-embies had reached their destination.

Now, all we can do is stare at our picture of our Wise-embies and think longingly about baby names until we take our first pregnancy test.

Let's just hope this Tale of Two Wise-embies ends happily with them deciding that my womb would make a good home for nine months. Then, it really will be the best of times.