IVF Round #1

In the spring of 2015, we began our first IVF cycle. When I reflect back on that time I’m flooded with lots of emotion. There was a lot going on in our lives. My grandma became ill was and was admitted to St. Paul’s Hospital. My mom’s cancer had spread from her colon and was now in her lungs. The procedure to remove the cancer from the lungs was invasive and complicated. She was referred to a specialist in Vancouver who would perform the surgery. These two things were happening in tandem with our IVF, so needless to say, it was an emotional, stressful time.

I was working full time, managing my injections, going for bloodwork every other day, and having daily ultrasounds.  I didn’t respond well to the medication and was only able to produce two mature follicles.  They were able to extract an egg from each follicle, and each egg grew to an eight cell, day three embryo.  Fresh embryo transfers are preferable, as the freeze/thaw cycle can cause it stress.  The recommendation was made that I transfer both embryos as that would give us the best chance of a successful pregnancy. 

During one of our last family suppers with my grandma, I showed her the picture of our little embryos.  She thought I was showing her a picture of a pair of earrings.  I remember explaining to her that we were going through IVF and that these were going to be our babies. 

I was so hopeful.  I truly believed that IVF would be the answer to our prayers.  A few days before my scheduled bloodwork, I woke up with cramps.  Then came the blood.  It was Easter break.  On Easter Sunday I had gone to church and prayed for those little embryos to grow.  It’s hard to describe the devastation of your first failed IVF cycle.  I called my mom and dad to tell what had happened.  My dad was going to visit my other grandma, who lives in Tisdale. They suggested I go with him so I wouldn’t have to be home alone.  I could not stop the tears from flowing out of my eyes; I just watched out the car window and cried.The hurt and loss was just seeping out of me.  I couldn’t understand how we could go through so much and end up with nothing. 

A few weeks later, I flew to Vancouver to be with my dad and sister during my mom’s surgery.  Mom was strong (she always was) but the surgery was invasive and the recovery was long.  Mary and I flew home a few days after the surgery and left dad with mom to continue the recovery process.  When we returned to Saskatoon, grandma was in a coma.  She died a few days later.  That next weekend was Mother’s Day.  Grandma was gone; mom was in a hospital bed in Vancouver, and I had an empty womb.  Going forward, Mother’s Day never got easier.