I am a clinical lab tech at a fertility clinic. If you ask me about my job, I am more than happy to talk about it. To anyone. Ad nauseum. I have talked about my job at family functions, parties, pretty much anywhere you would ask someone about what they do for a living. When Alex and I were buying our house, I found out that our realtor had been through IVF and talked about my job with her. I love my job. But there is a small part of my job that is really special to me, and it’s not really something that comes up in conversation often. It kind of fits the Easter season, so I think it’s a good time to share it.
After an embryo transfer, patients wait ten days before coming in for a blood pregnancy test. For those ten days, we have no idea whether or not the transfer worked. That blood test is a huge moment for both the patient and the treatment team. We get excited when we see a first post-transfer HCG (the pregnancy hormone) on the schedule and we love to see the positive numbers on the analyzer.
Last year, sometime near Easter, I got one of those magic tests from one of my favorite patients. This husband and wife were always very kind to our staff and really gave the impression that they would be good parents. They had infertility factors that made pregnancy the old-fashioned way nearly impossible, but with a little help from modern technology, we were trying to make a pregnancy happen for them. I remember doing the sperm preparation on the day of the egg retrieval. I had seen the blood tests leading up to the embryo transfer, and I remember the sinking in my chest when the test came back negative. This was the first test after the second embryo transfer. My coworker had gone to lunch, so I was alone in the lab. I smiled as I put the blood on the analyzer, saying “come on, big numbers” under my breath. The machine hummed and clicked, and I went about my usual daily tasks. When I went back later, the result was ready. It was positive, and the number was high!
This is the moment I want to share. I saw the result on the machine. The result hasn’t been sent to the nurses, it’s not in the patient’s chart, no one else knows. For just a few seconds, I am the only person in the world who knows for sure that something wonderful has taken place. This reminded me of something. In John 20, on Resurrection morning, Jesus appears to Mary Magdalene. She is the first person to know that the tomb is empty not because someone has stolen the body, but because Jesus is alive. For just a moment, she is the only person in the entire world to know. My excitement over blood test results pales in comparison to Jesus’ resurrection, but I knew exactly what I had to do once that number popped up on the screen. I sent the result to the chart for the nurses, and got on a chat to send a message to the embryologists. I told every coworker I saw, and in no time at all, the whole clinic knew.
How much faster must Mary have hurried to tell her friends? She probably couldn’t keep from telling anyone and everyone who would listen. How can you keep such good news to yourself? This is the joy that infuses Easter celebration. The joy of the resurrection that is the center of all Christianity, the resurrection without which my faith would be in vain.
I will never tire of seeing those positive blood test results, and I hope that I never tire of the joy of Christ’s resurrection. And in case you were wondering, that pregnancy that prompted this post? It turned out to be twins. They arrived healthy and adorable a few months ago. I love my job.
Happy Easter, I wish you all the joy of Mary Magdalene on Resurrection morning.
