We had started this part of our journey nine months earlier, and we were finally able to attempt a transfer. Kari came in and I was by her side the whole time. I watched as the doctor transferred our little embryo into her body. I watched the ultrasound screen as it was put into her uterus. What an amazing feeling I had as I watched all this happen!

Kari and I stayed in the recovery unit for a few hours until the doctors were satisfied she had stayed on her back long enough. She was then told to stay laying down most of the weekend and could resume light activity the following Monday. She would have blood drawn the following week to see if her hormone levels showed the pregnancy had taken. In the mean time, she would continue the shots until her own body recognized the pregnancy and took over. Ouch.

We're Not Pregnant

Friday, June 18th, 2004 dawned as any other day except we were waiting for that all important call telling us we were pregnant. Unfortunately, it wasn't so. Our one little egg, our one little embryo, didn't stick around. Kari felt awful, as if she were the weakest link in this whole fragile chain. How she could feel that way was beyond me. I was the one whose body had betrayed her. I was the one whose immune system had allowed malignant cells to run rampant without keeping them in check. I was the one who only produced one egg which decreased our chances of a successful transfer dramatically. I do believe I was the weakest link.

What now? The doctor didn't recommend another transfer. He felt that I wouldn't produce anymore viable eggs. I begged him to at least check my hormone levels with my next couple cycles to see if anything would change for the better. He agreed, but I think he was just humoring me at this point. After all was said and done we were never able to do another transfer. My friend Kari remained on the medication for us for almost a year. She was an angel!

We had to make the decision to call it quits and let everyone's life go back to normal again. Normal, what was that? I think at that point in my life I had forgotten what normal even felt or looked like. That said I felt good that we had tried. We had done what we had set out to do, and I was happy we hadn't let anyone talk us out of it. Now we would never wonder, "What if?". We knew the answer.