The Day a Miracle was Made

A year ago today, we had our egg retrieval. It was a day that was highly anticipated and then quickly became one of the worst days in our infertility journey. They only got four eggs, and we were heartbroken. The outlook seemed bleak. The odds weren't in our favor.  After 11 days of injections, I felt my hopefulness slipping away. The sadness was suffocating. But then, just as it always does, the dark, hard night awoke to the light of a new day that brought incredible news: All four eggs fertilized! Hallelujah! Now, today, looking back at Feb. 24, 2017, I don't just remember a day that threatened to crush my spirit. To steal my strength. I celebrate a day that tested and grew my faith. I celebrate a day that a miracle happened, during (and in spite of) those hours that my belief wavered. Because today isn't the anniversary of "egg retrieval day." It's conception day. Few people know exactly when their babies were conceived but, thanks to IVF, we do. It was a little after noon on Feb. 24, in a high tech embryology lab in San Ramon. And I believe without question that God's hand was in the mix, creating our little miracle, knitting her together from each part of us and preparing her for my womb. The crazy thing is, if our two "snowflakes" — our frozen embryos, our precious embabies — one day also become tiny humans, they will share the same conception date. Isn't science amazing? So yes, Feb. 24 was more than just the day they retrieved my eggs. It was so much more than I even realized at the time. On a most fundamental level, it was the day that Greg and I's family began. Moreover, it was the day that God reminded me that He is bigger than my fears, He is steadfast in the face of my doubts and He is certainly not intimidated by "the odds." With him, anything is possible. Infertility can be overcome, families can be made. With an egg — and faith the size of a mustard seed.

IVF Update | Egg Retrieval

Hopeful and smiling, prior to the egg retrieval.

I've been avoiding writing an update all day, but the day is almost done and I can't hide anymore. I spent most of the hours after my egg retrieval crying, or sleeping in order to forget and not cry. I feel just fine physically, but emotionally I'm shattered. 

I went into the procedure with more optimism than my pragmatic (sometimes cynical) self usually can muster. But I really felt hopeful. Even knowing that I wasn't expected to get a ton of eggs like other women might, I was OK with the 7-8 my doctor estimated. For some reason that number felt safe. And I was so bloated from all the injections, I took that as a positive sign. I had so much hope, and I was trying so hard to trust and have faith. 

But when the doctor who did my retrieval came into recovery with the news, my hopeful heart broke. Only 4 eggs. That's all they got. Apparently the large follicles were still there, but nothing inside. He said sometimes when they get so big the egg dies. Unfortunately, I had a wide spread of follicle sizes, and he told Greg and I prior to going in that he expected to get "a handful," but I still wasn't prepared for the outcome. My husband, like me, said his heart dropped upon hearing the number, that it felt like "a punch to the gut." I wish I'd had the presence of mind to ask the doctor more questions, but it took everything in me not to burst out crying. One tear slid down my cheek before he left the recovery bay. 

From there I quickly sank into a deep depression; to say I was devastated doesn't even fully describe it. I cried as I left the clinic, cried on the drive home, cried when I called my mom to tell her the news. I felt all my hope slipping away. But I know it's not over yet. I know "four is better than nothing" (even though it doesn't feel that way when you know the statistics). Maybe we will beat the odds. Maybe. Hopefully. So that's where I'm at: Trying to fight my way back to hope tonight.

(Image via PocketFuel)