If you’re a regular reader of my wife's blogs and tweets, then you’ll know that we’re into the 2ww of our second cycle of IVF, otherwise known as ‘no-man’s land’. There is nothing more we can do now, except wait, and hope, and pray (and eat pineapple).
And that’s the hardest part: doing nothing. She still has her progesterone to take, mercifully not through a needle the size of a lamppost this time. But otherwise, all is outwardly quiet, eerily so. Inwardly though, we’re going out of our minds (she more than me, I'm sure she won't mind me saying). I dare not think about us getting a BFP, but the alternative is simply unimaginable.
When we had our transfer done, the nice lady gave us a photo of the embryos (I was tempted to post it on Facebook as a retort to the daily bombardment of friends’ baby pics), which we've both pored over: is it fragmented, why is one bigger than the other, has it got my nose?
And like my wife, I have consulted Dr Google about various things, from ‘embryo quality’, to ‘improve implantation’ and ‘live birth rates’. One such search revealed our chances of not only pregnancy, but actually having a baby this time round.
The funny thing about statistics is that they can be easily dismissed when not in your favour, and encouraging when on your side. But what I discovered in my online search for reassurance is that our chance of a live birth, taking into account age and day-5 transfer, is 51.9% (pregnancy is 61%).
Now, 51.9% is enough of an advantage to beat the house at blackjack, it may even give you a majority in parliament, but when it comes to IVF it’s still 50/50. Do our hopes and dreams really hang on the cosmic toss of a coin?
With 50/50 odds, why am I genuinely optimistic about our chance of success? After all, statistically it could just as easily go the other way.
Well, 51.9% is massive in terms of IVF and represents our best hope yet of having a baby. Usually, the figure is nearer 25%, and of course diminishes with age.
If there was a 50% chance of rain, I’d pack an umbrella. If I had a 50% chance of winning the lottery, I’d buy a ticket, and a 1 in 2 chance of having a baby is all I need right now to feel hopeful that this is going to work.
IVF is a stressful, traumatic and invasive process, and I’m incredibly proud of my wife for the way she has coped with all the crap, the physical and emotional strain, and the terrible grief of losing a young niece during the course of the cycle.
But no matter what happens now, we’ll be ok. We’ll always be ok, because we have each other. Of that, I’m 100% certain.
Hers
- massively bloated stomach, sore boobs, tired and run down (I have painful mouth ulcers and the skin on my face hurts - seriously)
- eating A LOT (latest craving is Chilli Heatwave Doritos - completely addicted - but also also eating pineapple, brazil nuts and protein to help the embabies implant and grow)
- worrying I've done too much of some things (carrying, rushing around, bending - there's no evidence I know of that any of these things are harmful, they're just things I'm irrationally plutzing about) and not enough of others (resting, sleeping, being positive - again, nothing scientific about this)
- panicking every time I sneeze or cough I've dislodged the embabies
- thoughts flitting at alarming speed between 'of course this is going to work' and 'I'm so scared this isn't going to work' - ALL DAY LONG
- keeping a low profile with friends and generally wanting to hibernate
- checking for signs of spotting every time I go to the toilet and remaining paranoid in between those times
- going to the toilet every half an hour so I can relieve my paranoia (and occasionally my bladder)
- talking to my embabies when no one is listening (at least I hope not), pleading with them to stick around so they can find out what good parents we'd be, how much we'd love and care for them
- welling up every time I think of how we'd tell my parents I'm pregnant
- wondering whether seeing two heavily pregnant women followed by a woman pushing newborn twins is a sign my ivf cycle is going to work
- wondering whether an itchy nose is a sign my ivf cycle is going to work
- going slowly insane...