Here we are, once again in a space that is now one that is pretty familiar. A space I found myself in around this same time, two years ago: the failed transfer. For those of you who are new to my blog space, in February of 2020, I had an early loss following a positive HCG and then a failed transfer in April. So, unfortunately, this is familiar territory for me. And I mean it happens; science is still incomplete and nothing is guaranteed. If science were always 100% we would surely have a cure for terminal illnesses and probably have a potion to keep us all forever young. Like I have said time and time again before I took the plunge and applied with SAI, I did a hell of a lot of research and knew that much like a natural pregnancy, an IVF pregnancy comes with its fair share of risks, a failed embryo transfer being one of them.
But I’m okay. I’m a planner (although some may call me an overachiever) and I like to be prepared for anything. My knowledge and research of IVF and gestational surrogacy (as well as having a support system all around me) is extremely helpful. I knew it was something that could happen, I knew I did my part wholeheartedly but unfortunately, the timing sadly just was not right. If anything, I feel for my IP’s. They are an amazing couple and the whole time I’m feeling for them, they are getting on me and my well-being. They say that being a surrogate is selfless (true) but my IP’s checking on me and my well-being, while they received not-so-good news, is extremely selfless if I may say so myself. It is honestly extremely comforting knowing that they genuinely care about me as I do them.
One thing that stood out to me in all of this, was my 5-year-old’s take on it. He was with me for transfer so he knew everything that’s been going on since the beginning. As soon as I started cycling, I reiterated to him I was having a baby. “Will you have one for me too mama?” And I was like “hmmm no son, that’s not happening!” To make it easy for him to understand, I told him I was helping two friends have a baby because they can’t have one on their own. Then he asked how and well, per usual I told him the truth! I have and remain open with my children in a developmentally appropriate way of course. I would rather them hear it at home than the nonsense they’ll hear in the sandbox and in the media. On the evening of my negative blood test, I let everyone know I wasn’t pregnant —mainly so they would know they don’t have to give mama extra TLC because they were treating me like a little delicate flower since I came back from San Diego. My oldest said that it was okay, and asked me if it were his fault when I had to tell him one too many times to make his bed and if I needed anything. I reassured him it wasn’t his fault, that sometimes these things happen. Now the little one…very blunt in true Aramis fashion “so the baby died mom?” (because well he’s 5 so that’s where his mind goes) and then proceeds with some gory questions I’ll save you all the trouble of hearing. I explained it just didn’t work and we are going to try again for my friends. He rubbed my belly, told me “it’s okay tell them we will get them a baby next time” and went on about the day.
So what’s next? We try again of course. And before anyone asks “why would you let them do that to you?!” It is my call. I am mentally and emotionally stable enough to go at it again. I started my cycle about 5 days after my negative blood test and let me tell you, it’s been the period from Hell. I have a very high pain tolerance and I don’t tend to get cramps however, my non-IVF related periods don’t have a very thick endometrium that has been pumped up with hormones and needs to shed. Needless to say, it’s been a hell of a couple of days. My 13-year-old even brought me chocolate chip cookies to comfort me as my “uterus was having a fight” (because he knows mama loves chocolate during that special time) and I have some acupuncture treatments lined up to help ease the flow and put everything at ease while I prepare to give it another go. Like my IP’s said “onward and upward”.
-Chelsea
Their Joey, My Pouch 