Implantation Dreams: Part 2
I-Day: The Ultimate Transfer and Not Remotely Romantic
Are you pondering egg freezing, navigating fertility treatments or donor sperm or just appreciate an interesting story? Whether you are researching options for yourself, a partner, your offspring, or, like me, assembling a fertility puzzle over decades, Platinum Mum delivers you a roadmap. A personal story backed up by solid research.
December 3rd, 2024. Here I was, about to potentially become pregnant via a Danish stranger's genetics and my own 16-year-old eggs while navigating the emotional complexity of a relationship 4,707 miles away. Even by my chaotic standards, this was ambitious, which meant right up until the big I-day I was frantically indecisive. Never wavering for a second re wanting my Norse cherub, my indecisiveness was around doing the right thing. My age was a discouraging factor, not so much for me but for my potential child and society at large. And the unknown consequences to my relationship and beautiful stepchildren added further stress. The dominating pickle in my gherkin jar of crisis was my own thinking; was I doing this for loving reasons? The regrets will no doubt provide lifelong mental diversions, but the Judgy McJudgeFace masses will never match the savagery I've brought against myself for my own delays.
The clinic instructions were precise: arrive with a comfortably full bladder (medical speak for "desperately needing a widdle but not to bursting point"), take prescribed medications as directed, and bring a support person if desired (only my Canadian partner knew what I was doing so I had self-imposed solitary attendance).
So, it was safe to say on the day of implantation I was functioning under cerebral upheaval. Using substantial armour filled with concrete belief that I had too much love to offer a potential child, I surged forth. I had wanted 2 embryos’ implanted, a 2 for 1 deal if you will, but they point blank refused for health and safety reasons.
The morning had been spent under strict hydration protocols with an uncomfortably full bladder. The biblical level of H20 was to ensure the bladder was full enough for optimal viewing and embryonic navigation. This was initially painful as for some reason I have been blessed with the bladder of an angry midge which meant holding liquids always had an antagonising time limit.
The transfer unfolded in a small operating theatre which resembled a cross between a space station and an expensive cosmetics clinic this reassured and terrified me at the same time. About 15 minutes before the implantation was to take place, the embryologist had unfrozen the one embryo he had decided was MVP material. These 15 minutes served as standard operating procedure as my eggs/sperm had been vitrified (frozen) at blastocyst stage (5-6 days after fertilisation), the sweet spot for pregnancy development. Academic Sidebar: Blastocyst stage means the embryo has two distinct cellular neighbourhoods 1. An inner cell mass part of which becomes the little berserker a.k.a. the foetus 2. The outer layer of cells which will form nourishment HQ a.k.a. the placenta. Clinics tend to prefer embryos fertilised to Blastocyst phase as statistically this leads to superior success rates. As we all know the probability of a successful pregnancy ultimately depends on the quality of the embryos and uterine hospitality.
The embryologist and doctor conducted communications through an intercom system and door which connected both areas. At this point in time, I am sadly unmedicated save for some humdrum paracetamol. My ADHD and any other biochemical interventions like vitamins had already been suspended which amplified the baseline anxiety. This had the effect of elevating apprehension to exhausting levels yet simultaneously intensifying stoicism. Implantation was a big moment I could only cover with verbal turbulence, a trait which always exposed itself when I was overthinking and nervous. I started talking about embryo metrics, bladder logistics and my hopes for an Olympic swimmer (thematic consistency?). Predictably, having overachieved on the liquid retention I begged to go to the loo as they went to start implantation.
Underneath all this oral agitation was a deep melancholy that such a beautiful milestone was occurring in a cold and sterile room with no partner, family or friends to hold my mental hand. This moment crystalised years of hope and quiet determination and I suddenly felt psychologically ill-equipped to manage the pressures of my child yearning.
In the meantime, Thor or Freya were chilling out in catheter accommodation thinner than a human hair. The embryo had been rigorously graded, and the medical team expressed genuine enthusiasm for their selected candidate. So, with legs akimbo and some bits and bobs projected onto a high-definition screen they asked if I was ready. With nerves of spaghetti, I said yes. This part of the procedure was more extensive than I thought it would be thanks to a significant amount of catheter manoeuvring and I can’t pretend it didn’t hurt. Nearly everyone in the room had said it was a quick and ‘relatively’ painless procedure equivalent to a pap smear. They were thoroughly misinformed. The doctor had to thread the catheter, now mildly thinner than a Trafalgar Square bollard, through my cervix, and perform reconnaissance for optimal implantation. When she was navigationally happy, she asked the team if they were ready again and the embryo was inserted through the catheter and into the womb. There was a happy snap of the potential baby smooth landing into the uterus, and a deceptively emotional moment was created. So many hopes and dreams in this 20-minute procedure and now I had a picture which looked like a tiny shooting star arcing through a deep but snug space.
Following the transfer, I was instructed to rest for 30 minutes, not because bed rest improves implantation rates, but because it gives patients psychological comfort and prevents anyone from rushing off and immediately blaming themselves if the cycle fails. The discharge instructions were refreshingly straightforward: continue progesterone support, avoid heavy lifting and vigorous exercise, but otherwise resume normal activities. No bed rest required, no special dietary restrictions, no prohibition on air travel.
There was no ceremonial fanfare, no orchestral soaring or triumphant brass section, just the quiet rhythmic beeping of monitors, and my bladder antagonising me again. I felt a profound realization that a potential human roughly the size of a poppy seed floated around inside me.
Before I left the clinic gave me a treatment summary confirming the date of the procedure, number of embryos transferred and a picture of the embryo(s). The summary also included a date to try your first pregnancy test and for me they suggested a later date than usual due to the hormonal influence that might give me a false positive. I was given a slightly different hormone protocol to continue with and now I just needed to wait.
Next blog will be about the wait…the long, long tortuous stressful wait!!
The Platinum Mum Cents and Sensibility:
1. Managing Transfer Day Anxiety
Implantation day anxiety is completely normal and expected. After months or years of preparation, the actual procedure feels simultaneously momentous and mundane. Bring headphones, a book, or whatever helps you stay calm. The procedure itself is quick, but the emotional processing takes longer.
2. Understanding Success Rates Realistically
Live birth rates vary significantly based on egg age at freezing, embryo quality, and your current age. Ask your clinic for statistics specific to your circumstances rather than general success rates.
3. Post-Transfer Best Practices
Modern fertility medicine doesn't require bed rest following transfer. Normal activities are encouraged but avoid heavy lifting and high-intensity exercise for a few days. The embryo isn't going to "fall out” so trust the science and your body's ability to do what it's designed to do.
4. Preparing for the Wait (usually two weeks but can be a lot longer)
Plan activities and distractions for the wait period. This psychological endurance test can drive even the most rational people to symptom-spotting madness. Consider limiting internet research and fertility forum participation, hard I know and something I sometimes ignored but it can increase rather than decrease anxiety levels.