Friday, July 18, 2008

PGS results: another devastating day

On Wednesday afternoon, Stephanie,  our embryologist called with truly hideous news. 

The two 8-cell embryos that looked so good came back positive for abnormalities. One had such severe aneuploidy they couldn't count all the problems. The other had trisomy 21 - Down Syndrome, and only one copy of chromosome 22. This embie may well have implanted, and gone on to live with DS, but the one copy of c22 meant life could not be sustained. Had that embie been transferred and implanted we could well have gone on to term with the baby dying shortly after birth, as is common with monosomy 22. 

Embie number three was still only at five cells on Day 3 (it should have been 8 cells). They nicked one cell for the PGS biopsy, so at four cells on Day 3, with fragmentation and few signs of development, the embryologist was not at all hopeful. 

I sucked it in, told Bob and promptly burst into a flood of tears.

Did we go into a dark space. This was by far the worst day of all the worst days we've had during the past two weeks. Still heavy with flu and feeling sick and sorry for myself, I bawled all afternoon. I cursed at God. I felt persecuted, I decided I hated children and didn't want any - ever. I just couldn't stop crying. Or cursing. I had thoughts of not wanting to go on living. I wanted to go to sleep and not wake up. I cried and cursed everything that came to mind.

 But there was nowhere for the anger to go because it was no-one's fault - not mine, nor the doctor's, nor Bob's - it just was. And it wasn't even "unfair" because there are hundreds of thousands of women throughout the world who are in the same position as me.

We called our mothers and broke the news. They could offer nothing but sympathy and hide their own disappointment so as to not add to our feelings of failure and guilt. Eventually I took a sleeping pill and passed out for four hours, awaking in a surreal dazed state, feeling battered, bruised and utterly despondent. 

This, we had decided, was our final go with my eggs. The next step has always been egg donation. The dream of our own genetic child was over.

But was it?

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