It seems I have been grossly mistaken. Lying in the transfer suite, surrounded by medical equipment and piped-in muzak, I looked over at my husband, held his hand, and felt awash with love, excitement, trepidation and a sense of momentousness. Let no-one tell you that getting pregnant this way cannot be romantic. As I said to him as we waited there, clad in the hilarious scrubs: “Anything is romantic if it’s full of love.”
When the doctor finally reached us, an agonizingly long hour after our scheduled time, he told us the hard facts. We have:
• Two embryos.
• Both Grade 2 (out of 5).
• Odds of pregnancy if we transfer one: 60%.
• Odds of pregnancy if we transfer two: 80%.
• If we transfer two, odds of having twins: 20%.
He stepped outside for a few minutes so we could discuss it.
“I have a feeling that, if we put in two we’ll get twins, and if we put in one we’ll get nothing,” my husband said.
“I have the same feeling,” I said. We looked at each other. My eyes felt wide and deep, sparing nothing of the dilemma. Twenty percent doesn’t seem so high, does it?
He must have been thinking the same thing. “Let’s go for it.” And when we told the doctor, he nodded and said it was probably wise.
Then we saw the petri dish on the television screen, and the view zoomed in and zoomed in until clear liquid revealed two tiny specks, which became two distinct round blobs that looked like tiny bundles of bubbles.
And that’s when we knew. Both of these are going in, and we love them already. If both come out, we’ll deal with it. But we weren’t going to leave one behind and have it frozen. These little blips of nothing were so very beautiful. We gushed in excitement at seeing them (and I apologised for asking my husband to leave his BlackBerry in the waiting room – where’s a camera phone when you need it?), and next thing the two little specks were sucked into a pipette and implanted into me.
We saw the arrival thanks to the lovely nurse ultrasounding my belly. Bright white specks floating into the darkness. It is beautiful to behold. I actually feel lucky to have had this experience, and as we walked away later, my man turned to me and said he felt exactly the same thing. “I love those two little blobs!” he sung out as we walked down Bay Street.
I do too. I hope they’re doing okay in there.