After all the thousands of dollars spent for hospital fees and medications, after the endless hours travelling back and forth to appointments, after missing work and taking days without pay, after all the tears and the pain and the disappointment, after all the shattered hopes… we have one embryo.

One. One tiny embryo to shoulder such a terrible burden as all our hopes and dreams. One chance. One hope. One.

It’s so monumentally heartrending to know that what most people can do without thinking, we’ve had to expend so much effort and energy and money and time for. It’s so unfair to know that what some people are given freely and treat so carelessly, we have had to move heaven and earth to achieve and we would without question give our lives for. And it is so hard to bear the thought that this one, tiny organism may not even make it to our scheduled transfer time tomorrow morning.

We’re so tired of hurting so much. We’re so tired of having our hopes dashed. We’re so tired of the agonizing waits and the heartbreaking disappointment. We don’t dare hope that this one singular embryo could make it, because we could not bear to think that it won’t.

It’s an incredible load to put on such tiny cells.

From 11 follicles to three eggs to one embryo. What kind of mathematical equation comes to this answer? In what universe is that fair and equal?

To be fair, we got one out of three, which is very good odds. One egg was a dud and did not fertilize, one embryo has a genetic abnormality and will not survive, and one embryo is viable and looks good. But it is still only one. One singular chance.

Our first chance at a child ended after 10 weeks in utero in an operating room at 11 at night. Our second chance at a child is a bundle of cells in a petrie dish in a lab. I can’t bear to think of it making it any longer than that, because the disappointment in 3 weeks time will be so hard. But even worse still, I can’t bear to think of how I’ll survive if it makes it even a few weeks longer and meets the same fate as our first.

Some would say, all it takes is one. I would venture to say that those are not people who have endured month after month of disappointments and failures. Hope rips your heart out after a while.

One. It is what it is. If it survives the night, we will see it transferred tomorrow, and then we will have three weeks of agonizing wait.

After that, I fully anticipate that we will have to learn to live our lives as two, and not the three or four or five we had dreamed of. That seems like forever ago. It seems like another world, other people.

One. So much further than we’ve gotten in years, but so far from where we wanted to be.

5 thoughts on “One

  1. Oh honey. I’m so sorry. I know how disappointed you are. I won’t give you mindless platitudes, but I will tell you that I will support you, and pray for you, and love you both no matter what. You guys have become our family too, and I just want you to be happy. Whatever path that is for you. I can’t predict what will happen for you, but I know – deep in my heart – that you guys deserve some good. I’ll continue to think good thoughts and pray for the one. May it all work out the way we all want it to.

    I love you both.

  2. I cannot imagine how hard tonight is going to be. I’ll be thinking about you both and praying that your little embryo makes it.

  3. Cinn, I don’t really have the right words to say, but I’m thinking of you and BDH and praying for you.

Comments are closed.