I’m back in the saddle again. Today I made the call to the clinic. This is the plan advised by my consultant:
May – Call the clinic to arrange treatment dates. Tick.
June – Have a ‘scratch’ performed on my uterus to aid implantation. While they’re up there, they’re going to perform a formal hysteroscopy in theatre to have a good ol’ gander at my barren womb. “We search for polyps, adhesions” – anything that might prevent an embryo from implanting. This will be done under general anaesthetic I’m happy to report.
July – Implant any or all of our three frozen embies in a ‘frozen cycle’, depending on who survives the thawing process. As I’ve said before, I have no faith whatsoever in any of these actually implanting. They had a lot of multinucleation in the development process so the chances of a pregnancy are ‘lower’ than with an embryo which had no multinucleation – that’s according to our doctor and the embryologist.
I hadn’t wanted to go ahead with this, we both felt it was a waste of money. If the near perfect embryos didn’t work, what chances did a multinucleated embyro have? Near zero. However, in my WTF appointment with the consultant, she really pleaded with me to transfer the frozen embryos.
“I know you have no faith in them and you don’t want to do it. We can let them perish in a petri-dish or they can perish inside you. And you won’t have any regrets”. Those were her words, which brought a lump to my throat.
So we’re going to go through the whole FET just so we don’t wake screaming at 3am in ten years time. I honestly don’t know. I feel like I’m being pressurised into doing this just so we won’t have any regrets – you feel like you can’t say no. And I know in my heart it’s not going to work either.
The date for our FET will be around mid-July, exactly when hubbie will be home. I’m not thrilled with the timing, as I turn into a crazy hormone-induced psycho during the two week wait. It puts a strain on our relationship for sure. We’ll get through it but it’ll be hard on both of us.
Any advice on the hysteroscopy or endometrial scratch?
P.s. It’s my birthday tomorrow. 39 and still no kids. Bloody hell!