This time after transfer, I stayed pretty much in bed for a few days hoping that would help with implantation. “T” waited on me so I wouldn’t have to get up and around a whole lot. “T” and “I” had gone shopping with me a few weeks earlier, and we picked out a bunch of “lucky socks” that I could wear during and after transfer, because there is a thought in the IVF community that warm feet=warm uterus and that helps the babies implant. So I kept my feet toasty with socks covered in elephants (“I” said they are a symbol of luck and fertility) and rainbows (the symbol for a baby after a loss, and new hope) and words like “be confident”.
I went back to work on Monday, and by Wednesday I started feeling those little pinchy pains in the front of my uterus, and I was filled with hope that my little embryos were implanting. I did all the research I could on the success of three day transfers and found many people that had become pregnant, even with twins. And to top it all off, I got an email from my IVF nurse that my third little embryo made it to a blastocyst and was able to freeze! I was feeling good about this cycle.
“T” had to go on an overnight business trip that week, so I invited my parents to come to town and stay with me, since “I” and “A” were at their mom’s house. We went out to dinner, and came home to kick back, relax and do some visiting. I had noticed throughout the day I was feeling crampy, but again, this is a sign of pregnancy and last time I was crampy and I got a positive beta, so I wasn’t concerned. Later in the evening, after a trip to the restroom my heart stopped.
Again, this can be a sign of implantation, so I wasn’t completely freaked out yet and still felt confident about our cycle. But the spotting got worse throughout the evening, and started turning red, so I decided to bite the bullet and take a pregnancy test. I shouldn’t have been bleeding that early anyway, since I was still on progesterone, so maybe it was normal. I still had five days until my blood test, so I was surprised to see a faint positive when I took the test. Something had implanted, at least. I called my nurse and she said the positive test was a good sign, and that they had some women have full periods and still have a positive beta blood test and healthy pregnancy, so for now all I could do was keep taking my progesterone and try to take it easy. I was so thankful my parents were there with me so I wasn’t going through this alone, but couldn’t wait until I had “T” back the next day to help me face whatever was coming.
The bleeding got a little worse on Friday, and I took two more pregnancy tests to make sure they were still positive (they were), but Friday night my pain got out of control. I was up throwing up and sweating, so uncomfortable I couldn’t sleep. The next day I tried nibbling crackers and sipping Sprite but I couldn’t keep anything down, especially pain medicine, and things kept getting worse. I called my nurse again, and she told us we should get to the ER in case something more serious was wrong like ovarian contorsion.
“T” took me out in a torrential downpour thunderstorm and we made it to the ER just in time for me to throw up in his car. He got me inside and we got checked in, and within 30 minutes they had me on an IV and had given me some nausea and pain medicine to help take the edge off. I had a pelvic exam (which emergency rooms are not equipped to do, by the way. They had to get creative and put together a makeshift OB/GYN exam table out of a flipped over plastic tub with a towel over it I had to shimmy half up on and lay in basically a yoga pose. Not the most comfortable I have ever been), followed up with an ultrasound. My ovaries were not twisted, but my endometriomas looked to be bigger. They also had me take another urine pregnancy test.
They sent me home a few hours later with some prescriptions for pain and nausea, and my family and friends tried to reassure me that just because the urine test was negative didn’t mean the blood test would be. They all wanted to believe it wasn’t true, that it wasn’t happening to me again. But I knew.
Thankfully I had an extra day off work to recover since it was a holiday weekend. The 4th of July. The day I had planned to announce my pregnancy after my first IVF, and tell the world that “Our Little Firecracker” would be due in early January. I would have never guessed two months ago when I was planning my big reveal to the world that I would actually be recovering from my second chemical pregnancy on that day, instead.