In May we started drugs. Estrace, nine gadzillion other kinds of drugs, and, pills, pills, pills... And then by June we had moved on to the fun stuff, namely progesterone and shots, needles, ouch. Apparently my body remembered the needles because it bruised up right away, and I bled on a very regular basis when I gave myself shots. I mostly think this is because (TMI warning) I have so many spider veins- maybe varicose veins- in my butt and thighs after having the twins. Whatever the reason, my body was much wiser this time and let me know those needles were unwelcome!
We had an amazingly quick cycle, everything went really well, and in the middle of June (yes, it would be awesome if I remembered this stuff, I do remember it was a Tuesday ;), we transferred two beautiful embryos. A, my IM (the baby's mama), was able to go in with me while we went through the super fun procedure.
I stayed with A and H the night after transfer. A made food, and we sat around talking and getting to know each other. She made wonderful food, and I was able to look at pictures of their families. I was able to see pictures of their daughter, and I determined in that moment that they would have a living child. I looked at the refrigerator door, which contained pictures of when they were happy. H said that the pictures were there to remind A of happiness, and that they would have happiness again. And in that moment, I determined that A would only cry happy tears. And that is my goal.
I peed every day during the two week wait, watching the line grow darker and darker. A & H (mom and dad) didn't want to know what the pee tests said, so I just took a picture of the one that said "pregnant" and waited until beta day (the real blood test).
Once we had positive numbers from the doctor, I sent A the picture that said "positive" because seeing the word is soo much better than hearing "242", right?
Our numbers were about the same as they were with the twins, so I was terrified that I would be carrying another set of twins, A was overjoyed at the thought of twins, but I trusted that God would do what was right.
At 6 weeks, we had an ultrasound and saw one perfect little bean growing in one perfect little sac and heard one perfect little heartbeat. I knew that A and H had wanted twins, so I felt bad at my relief to only have one, but I was still happy and they were too- for one is so much safer to carry, and they have had too much risk in becoming parents so far.
A cried, and I smiled. For her, tears are a sign of joy. For me, her tears are a sign that all is well. So far, I have only seen happy tears.