Today, I miss Clay and Eli, our precious embryos that were lost. I actually hadn’t thought about them in a while. When I do think about them, I don’t usually get overly emotional. I think for a little, then my thought would pass.
But today. Today was a little different.
A friend of mine had success with her first IVF. She transferred a blastocyst and a morula. One of the embryos became her 18-month-old daughter. The toddler is a beautiful girl and I can’t be happier for my friend. From the batch of embryos that fertilized in that cycle, there was one that was growing slowly. It turned into a blastocyst on day six and was frozen.
When my friend wanted to try for number two, she thawed this embryo and transferred it. Luckily, she became pregnant and is currently about 12 to 13 weeks. Somehow I am not jealous of this pregnancy probably because I just love this family so much and I love this little girl. I really didn’t want my friend to have to go through with the anxiety of a fresh cycle and waiting for the embryology report. It’s a wonderful thing that the embryo implanted.
I always thought that the embryo was a morula on day five and turned into a blastocyst on day six. I was told by her today that it wasn’t even a morula on day five. It somehow grew into a 5BB blastocyst on day six.
Today after dinner, I told Bob that this friend’s embryo was just like any other ones that they had. Not even a morula on day five. Somehow it miraculously became a blastocyst, attached to the uterus, and is now a baby forming inside my friend. I commented, “What a fighter this embryo was.”
Bob said, “Just like our Clay. Clay was a fighter.”
I was in the car while Bob was driving. Tears started streaming. It wasn’t because of my friend’s pregnancy that hurt. Bob’s comment just touched a special spot in my heart. It was so raw. It was almost like I could feel the touch on that tender spot in my heart. Sometimes I wonder if I am cold blooded because I don’t always get emotional when I think about Clay and Eli. But today, I am again grieving the loss of these embryos. My babies that tried so hard to hold on… but gone forever.
Bob held my hand and let me cry for a while. He apologized for making me sad. I assured him that it had nothing to do with what he said or with my friend’s pregnancy. I just needed a moment to grieve those lives that were lost. And that was the right moment.
Sometimes we need that moment to just stop what we’re doing and think about the past. Then we move on again. I think this is part of healing.
My husband drove me to a restaurant, stopped, and bought me bread pudding. The sweetness of both his action and the bread pudding more than made up for the sad moment for today.
I do have a wonderful husband. Having him makes this journey easier.