Embryo Transfer

.October - November 2019- London

Our team hung out in London a lot, up and down on the Great Portland Street 'strip'. I learned to check off the shops and businesses every time I walked that street to the clinic from the station. Faye also became quite familiar with the journey, rushing to the clinic when progesterone levels dipped, in the freezing cold, not even stopping to put socks on! We passed time in the CRGH waiting room, and chilled with baklava and coffee at a brightly lit cafe, sitting by the windows, reminiscing about our own individual American dreams, lit up by our hopes for the journey ahead I’m the window - a light box on the cold Great Portland Street strip in the late autumn evenings. We had vegan friendly dips at Wahaca and bottomless cokes at Nandos.

Embryo transfer - 13th November 2019 - London

On the day of the transfer we visited the Jimi Hendrix museum together- his old flat in Mayfair and his actual bedroom now lovingly recreated. Lee’s fascination with the music took me back to another time and place. Somewhere far away from the impending transfer that was 15 mins walk away. I kept the museum programme. I hoped one day to show it to my child. We listened to the music of a legend. We gathered our thoughts. I felt that we were about to make history too.

They decided to put Bob in. The best quality embryo. We had all named an embryo each. Bob had been Euge’s name. There was a peaceful calm in the room when they bought Bob in. The nurses stood at the back, their arms folded, heads bowed. The lights dimmed as the embryologist slid open the large door that connected us to the lab and in he entered - she walked slowly as she carried him. “Watkins for Spreadbury” she announced, and we all agreed, “yes”. “One Watkins for Spreadbury” and she handed Bob to our consultant who sat on a chair under the bright lights of the medical lamp. The reverence and respect with which they conducted that transfer was staggering. It didn't feel medical. It didn't feel awkward. And we will always be grateful for that.

Bob Watkins - off you go.

We gathered together in a park near the clinic after the transfer. I read a poem I had written and held tight in my hand the piece of manganite I bought in the new age shop after our agreement singing in Derbyshire. Manganite was supposed to attract things. We all had a team hug. As we were walking back Lee stepped out in front of a cyclist. The cyclist apologised and said “Hey man nice boots”. Faye explained that he had that effect on people. They just wanted to know him, wanted to be friended by him. I understood. I felt that way about both of them. I remember thinking we (Bob and I) couldn’t have been chosen by anyone else.

The following day we wondered when Faye would start to feel something. I was so full of hope. But I couldn't look at the hope directly. If I looked at it straight on, it would disappear. The effect of it not working seemed too painful to bear. So I tried to go about my day, almost as if I hadn’t created a life at all. At around about Day 5 Faye seemed to feel something had changed. There was the rosy tint of celebration to our messages. On the surface I beamed at the thought that these changes meant she was pregnant, but still wanted to temper the excitement in me that was building. Deep down I was convinced fate was playing a cruel trick. Getting me worked up only to dash my hopes. I think secretly we both knew something had stuck. We texted each other across the gap of this uncertainty. The only way was to wait. And we resolved to wait until the day before official test date.