I think as women we idealize a lot of things. We have a way we picture our lives will go.
One of the biggest challenges during infertility was letting go my dream of conceiving "the normal way". And never having that, "oh wait, I'm late, let me take a pregnancy test" moment. And you want to know the weirdest thing? If I could, I would not change a single thing about how Hartley came to be or how we found out about her. Not a single damn thing.
I realized I never wrote about the transfer (since we kept the date a secret). I wish I had revisited this memory sooner to remember even better but I'm still pretty clear on all of it. So here it goes. Our maybe not so typical but still amazingly beautiful conception of our daughter.
It was Friday, May 24th. The Friday before Memorial Day weekend. We made almost zero plans that weekend so I could stay in bed, even if some people say bed rest after the transfer is a myth, we weren't taking any chances.
We woke up. I made us a special breakfast of pancakes and bacon. I do this every birthday or holiday in our house. I took a nice long shower because I planned not to shower the day after the transfer. I decorated our chalkboard and had Brian take a picture of my bump. Basically a little bloat I was carrying around after several weeks straight of injections preparing my uterus. I had on a little make up (not much because I wanted to be a sterile as possible). I was in my Mason Nation t shirt from when the patriots made the final four and a pair of Boston College sweat pants from one of our Boston trips.
We left insanely early on purpose. No traffic jam on 66 was going to stop us from getting our baby. In turn, we got there super early. We sat in the waiting room while I held a too full bladder. Minutes felt like hours. My in laws were in Ireland and had forgotten some things they needed to have shipped over. Brian was busy emailing them and figuring out tracking numbers and things. I sat next to him just refreshing Facebook and gmail on my phone. Praying for someone to post an interesting article I could read. No such luck so I looked at the clock just watching time pass.
By the time they called us back, I thought my bladder would explode. Brian then told the nurse he had to pee. He asked if he could go before we got started. The nurse said yes but told me I should've had him hold it out of solidarity.
We walked back to the "special room". It's a sterile room where special procedures take place. My egg retrieval happened there. We wore special sterile attire. The hospital booties barely fit over Brian's shoes. I laid on the table, my knees slung over the leg holders and a drape hiding my lady parts that everyone had already seen a hundred times.
The embryologist came in, and gave us the first picture we would ever see of Hartley. 5 days old. An embryo. He said, "hopefully that will be your very first baby picture, kids." Brian and I both teared up.
It was time to get started. The speculum they use is big. It clicks as it opens you wider and wider, and when it stops clicking it locks into place with the turn of a couple screws. It does hurt. The doctor kept telling me to relax. "Relax. Don't lift you butt, keep it on the table. Relax. Good job." In my head I think I was muttering "fuckity fuck fuck ow". But it locked and I felt like I could finally breath and relax a little.
The doctor sent the nurse to tell the embryologist that I was ready. This is all done very quickly by the way. The embryologist basically runs out of the lab next door, and without any pause they empty a catheter filled with some fluid and little baby Hartley into my uterus. It was so beautiful. I held Brian's hand, and we both watched it happen on the screen. Amazing. Transferring human life into a person's womb. People think this is weird or science fiction shit. But it's really just incredibly amazing and beautiful.
They quickly take the catheter to the lab and inspect it to make sure the embryo is in fact gone.
They turn down the lights and let you lay a little while. Brian was still holding my hand and gave me a sweet kiss. There is a picture of a Parisian street stuck to the ceiling. So random but I remembered looking at the same picture as I drifted to sleep while they extracted eggs.
I got dressed and we left the room. The doctors and nurses were chatting in the hallway, and they all wished us luck.
I stared at the picture of Hartley the whole way home. Thinking all sorts of things. Is this our baby? Is it a boy or a girl? Should I tell people what we just did? I wanted to shout it from the rooftop. Instead, Brian and I talked about the baby non stop the whole way home. When we got home we took turns just staring at that picture.
I got in to bed, where I stayed horizontal all day. Brian worked from home but came up every 30 minutes to check on me. He'd bring me snacks and drinks. I had magazines and tv and comfy sweatpants and was extraordinarily at peace. I felt like she had implanted. I felt all sorts of feelings in my uterus.
I pretty much stayed in bed all weekend. At the time I wished I had told people so I could've had a visitor or two. But looking back, it was such an amazing weekend. My husband, my dog and I just laying low and hoping to grow our family. I only had to wait 8 days to learn we had.
When people conceive their babies the normal way, it is pretty amazing. But in hindsight, I can't imagine our moment being any more amazing than it was. After all, it was just two people, very much in love, making a baby - just different logistics :)
When you bring a baby into the world it's amazing. Even if it takes different logistics for different people. It's just a happy beginning no matter how it happens.
Today is also a special anniversary. A year ago today was our first meeting with the fertility clinic. I met the doctor who would literally make our baby and make our dreams a reality. What a truly incredible year.
Hartley, in the words of the rascal flatts, "God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you."
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