The bad news is that the last Frosty Pup from our known donor family didn't survive the thaw. I had a bad feeling the last few days and particularly in the hour yesterday just before my cell phone rang. As soon as I saw the clinic's number, I knew. RIP, Frosty Pup.
I'm going to have to break the news to D this week. She sent me a very sweet good luck note the other night. After agonizing about how to tell her, I finally decided to tell her the truth -- if she and her husband hadn't decided to donate their embryos to us, I would never have found out about the clotting disorder (which the docs are now trying to tell me is only a "possible" diagnosis -- more on that later). If we hadn't tried with the Frosty Pups, I'd be leaving the IF world with 100% uncertainty about what happened to my pregnancies. But because we got that chance, and because I became friends with D and she suggested that I ask to be tested for APS, I have some hint of an answer and can be proactive with this cycle. It also gave me time to push the clinic about their policies on anonymity and form some strategies for dealing with the possible reality of raising kids conceived by anonymous embryo donation. All things happen for a reason.
The good news is that the Pinch Hitters are rock stars. The clinic thawed two and both survived very well. They used assisted hatching and both embryos were busting out of their shells at transfer. Honestly, I think they looked more healthy than the Frosty Pups did, but that could just be the Valium speaking ; ) The Mister stayed home with Squeaker again, although I was texting him the whole time I was sitting pants-less in the freezing cold room waiting for the nurse to tell me my bladder had reached capacity. I swear, I've never had to drink so much water in my whole IF history! And then she's pushing down on my bladder with the ultrasound thingy -- ouch! -- and I was thinking that if I just gave up and peed on the table, it would serve them right!
Anyway, except for the water torture, the transfer went quite easily. The doctor declared my twisty-turny cervix "not so bad once you get to know it" and the all-female staff at the clinic went above and beyond to be as nurturing and enthusiastic as any group of best-gal-pals could be. Everyone gushed over the pix of Squeaker (who, I must admit, is in a particularly charming stage of handsome these days). The nurse made me promise to send her a birth announcement. The donor program coordinator asked me if we were ready for twins (based on the boisterousness of the embryos), and -- wonder of wonders -- I learned that both my cycle counselor and the donor program coordinator personally know the donor family. They raved about what great people they are and how beautiful (and energetic -- oy!) their twins are. So, although this is an anonymous donation, I now know things about the genetic family that I didn't before, and if we ever needed to contact the family, there's a very very ultra-slim chance that it might actually be possible. Yes, I know that the clinic personnel are bound by all kinds of ethical obligations, but they *know* these folks. They're not just numbers on a file somewhere. There is something in that connection that could mean something someday. At least, that's what I'm telling myself today.
So, here I am, lounging around in a very nice hotel room, getting room service, watching bad daytime TV and reading books. When I told the room full of medical folks about my relaxation plans, all of the moms in the room gasped and said "You're staying in a HOTEL? By yourself?" They were absolutely drenched in envy. As I told the Mister last night, it's every mom's dream ; ) Did I mention yesterday's post-transfer 2-hour nap? Ahhhhh.
My beta is a week from Friday. I should be able to get a second beta the following Monday. And then the Mister and I are taking Squeaker on his first Disney cruise. So if it's bad news, I'll have plenty of wine and babysitters to comfort me. And if it's good news, I've already arranged for my clinic to call in prescription of Zofran for the seasickness.