The One with the Frobaby

I talked to the lab this morning to find out if any of our embryos made it to freeze.  After proving my identity in Mission: Impossible fashion, I finally got one of the embryologists on the phone.  She told me that we had one embryo that made it to freeze.  The rest didn't meet the guidelines and didn't develop enough to be viable for freezing.

One frobaby out of seven possible embryos.

I let this news wash over me today.  It was a good thing I was nannying and had the littles to distract me today ("She stole my car!"  "He pointed at me!"  "It's not fair!"  Wah, wah, wah!) because it was definitely a tough pill to swallow.  I mean, if Thing 1 and Thing 2 decide not to chill in my ute for the foreseeable future, we only have one frobaby for a transfer at a later time.  Part of me feels completely selfish for even thinking this.  We got three great embryos out of this whole stabby-needle, hormone-raging process.  Some women don't even get one.  The other part of me is high on Endometrin and wants to scream "It's not fair" at the top of my lungs.  I am attempting to find a balance between these two alter egos.  I am also finding that some depressing music and a few tears helped during the car ride home today.  And homemade pizza.  That can solve even the most difficult of situations.

I was texting back and forth with my mom today about the frobaby and she brought up a point I had never fully considered.

More on this point after some rambling background info.

While she was here last weekend and asking me eleventy jillion questions about all this, we were talking about the frobabies.  She didn't realize that they were embryos that got frozen; she thought it was just the eggs.  In typical ex-nun fashion (yeah she used to be a nun...whoooole other post going on there), she asked what happened to the ones we don't use.  I explained how we agreed that they would be donated for research purposes and while she absolutely supports that concept, my uber-Catholic mother was also concerned about the life that embryo represents.  I absolutely get her.  I feel that way too.  However, I also know the reality of the situation and realize that other women can benefit from what I can't use.  I don't like to think about my babies having research done on them.  It's one of those not always talked about IVF conundrums that goes with the territory.

Back to the point of this long winded story.

She told me this morning when I relayed the one frobaby information that she believes that somehow God has "spared" me the decision of what to do about 6 living embryos.  I never really thought about it in that context.  There are parts of me that believe the whole "everything happens for a reason" stuff; other parts of me call bullshit and say it's not worth the paper it's printed on.  But, for whatever reason, this idea of God helping out with this process and these decisions gave me some peace.  Don't get me wrong, I know my embryos that didn't make it to freeze may also be used for research, but those are the little ones that didn't keep dividing or were fragmented or would have never been able to implant.  Doesn't mean I don't grieve for them not making it.  But, it does mean that I appreciate what my mother told me today.  God certainly has a hand in all of this.  For what it's worth, I don't think God's plan is for me to be infertile and for my embryos to not survive.  I just think he's got some kind of plan for me.  I don't know what the hell it is most of the time, but I need to believe he does.

Sorry if that got too preachy for you.  Just the things swirling in my head right now.

Alright, I'm done with the babbling tonight.  It will be time for a vag pill soon and they make me sleepy.  Plus there is a DVRed episode of "Dance Moms" that is calling my name.  Don't you dare judge me!