Issue 26: There's good news and there's bad news
Saturday December 08 2018
We’re waiting for some important test results. First, whether we can proceed with Melissa as a surrogate after her cyst diagnosis, and second, the results of our preimplantation genetic diagnosis, or PGD tests. (These are done to check for any problems with the chromosomes, which is thought to be the most common reason IVF fails.)
So, what would you like first, the goodish news or the baddish news? The goodish news is we finally have the ultrasound report back (it’s been in for days, apparently, but, try as we might, we couldn’t get the information out of our doctor any sooner. He is more elusive than Father Christmas) and it shows that Melissa’s cyst — that damn literal and metaphorical surrogacy obstruction — has gone! That means for the first time in this whole thing we can say we officially have a surrogate. Our agency has sent the obligatory Instagram post to their followers: “Surrogate M has medical clearance.” A fleetingly vague blip on the feed for them, five long months of emotional slog for us.
The baddish news is that on the same day we got the results on our embryos. We have three viable ones. Only three, from the 18 we started with. Being disappointed with that might sound greedy, but it feels like a blow. Three embryos ultimately means just three chances of success, it sets a limit for us that I badly wanted to be bigger. Having failed so many times before, three seems tiny. To put it into context, when I did my donor-egg IVF in Russia we had five embryos, five chances, and we used and lost them all. Also, our financial “package” with the fertility clinic is based on four embryo transfers, which means we’ve paid for one chance that will never be used. What if that was going to be The One? I know having three “perfect” embryos is not bad news, but it definitely could be better.
If I try to extract the optimism, it’s that word “perfect”. These three are scientifically more likely to make it. But I have a Russian devil on my shoulder that reminds me that each of my five were apparently perfect too.
The enthusiastic advocate in my other ear pipes up: “It only takes one.” I have a good friend who, after years of trying naturally, saved enough for one round of IVF. Her treatment resulted in one embryo. One. It managed to make it to day five when they had their one-chance transfer and put it back in. I cannot imagine the terrible pressure of the next two weeks waiting for the results of that one and only pregnancy test. I pick up my phone to ask her exactly what that was like, and then remember she’s on the holiday of a lifetime with her husband and their gorgeous seven-year-old daughter. Miraculous, eh? It only takes one.
In the background our Mother Project Whatsapp group keeps pinging. Melissa is getting increasingly antsy at the dragging timeline. She’s been waiting with bated breath for the news on her cyst and it’s taken longer than it should have. She has danced this surrogacy waltz before, so her frame of reference seems the most reliable of everybody’s. Whenever we worry about how many weeks it takes to get a private doctor’s appointment, or why medical clearance takes for ever, or how far into our forties we’ll be before we get an answer to that last email, we’re reassured by the professionals that it’s entirely normal. Melissa disagrees.
“I see on social media all these women who are flying through the steps so quickly and I just wonder why we’re moving at snail speed. It’s crazy.”
I respond with: “Try not to worry Mel, I’m assured by the agency it’s totally normal. Is it not totally normal?”
“Oh gracious, NO. I know this is NOT how things typically run. The last time everything was like clockwork.” Great. S***.
I’m about to plan yet another diplomatic but ranty email to the agency (why do we have to chase so hard? Why is this taking so long?) when our week takes a turn for the sadder. Mr B’s beloved gran is not well. She’s the absolute centre of his universe, the most incredible mother figure and, out of everyone, the person who would be the happiest to hear our pregnancy announcement. She’s 91, and the reason every passing week with no progress is an extra twist of the knife. Our focus was on seeing her meeting her great-grandchild, we’d want them to know of each other for ever.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be and she passed away shortly after we visited her in hospital. Not without singing us a song through a huge smile first, of course. Typically, she went out in absolute abundant style.
Needless to say, her passing put things into perspective. Suddenly the timeline doesn’t matter so much any more. We’ve been fervently trying to speed everything up because we’ve waited so long already, and we know we shouldn’t be knocking so many hurdles, so it’s frustrating. Yes, we want a family before we’re 40, but more than that we want to enjoy what we have now, and every moment of what comes after. We don’t have control over life, over my infertility or pinning down Dr Santa or defusing Melissa’s cyst-bomb; we need to focus on getting to our end goal when it’s supposed to happen. Imagine if we got to enjoy our eventual family life until age 91! What an amazing achievement.
Taking our foot off the accelerator for now, we email Jane, our co-ordinator at the agency for some news. She’s like the middleman between the doctor and us, she meets the surrogate and helps to guide us both through everything, she’s the level-headed facilitator, the placator, the knowledgeable explainer and all-round caretaker. But she also needs a push sometimes.
Hi Jane,
Just to let you know that Mr B’s grandmother passed away this week. I understand we may seem impatient, and you want us to remain positive, but this goes some way to explaining why that has been difficult recently. Let’s try and get some good news soon!
On another note, we have three healthy embryos. Could you let me know if this seems a good number on average? It seems low to us, but maybe I am being despondent.
We get an “Out of Office” reply.
“I will be travelling to the fertility clinic for my transfer. I will be back to work on Wednesday, but working from home so that I can rest. Enjoy your day!”
For your transfer? Jane? Our surrogacy co-ordinator is going to be a surrogate? And is it weird that I’m upset that she didn’t tell us? Is this a conflict of interest? It feels like it. Might she not be able to get direct and timely answers from our doctor because she’s concentrating on facilitating her own surrogacy journey? And am I jealous that everyone round here seems to be getting pregnant except Melissa, and me?
Well now the timeline feels important again. When can we get in on some of this proactive happiness action, please? We have three whole bundles of cells that are ready to join the Mr B family tree. Let’s get a date in the diary to make that happen, please Jane. Jane? Oh yeah, it’ll have to wait till Wednesday.