I wish I could explain what it feels like.
The strange sensation of being completely aware of your ovaries. Like they are alive. Or little aliens. When I stood up, five seconds later they joined me. Take a step, oh come on, swollen baggies.
Last Sunday, Jimmy and I went to our doctor for another round of lab work and an ultrasound. Dr. E said I was about ready to pop. I’m glad she said it, because damn, I felt it. The plan? Trigger shot that night. The trigger shot(s) prepare all those eggos to be retrieved. (That was horrifically non-scientific, and I’m only kind of sorry). We administered my two trigger shots Sunday night, and I went back to the doctor Monday morning for lab work (to make sure the trigger worked). For some reason I was nervous about this because the office talked a lot about “human error.” I didn’t want to be the one do-do bird who effed up her shots. But luckily, we did them right, and we were scheduled for retrieval on Tuesday morning.
Tuesday went fine. I showed up in my comfy clothes—some lady in the waiting room looked me up and down and honestly I’m so tired of that. Even if I wasn’t having a procedure, who cares if I was in sweats? I was carrying around alien ovaries! You try doing that in skinny jeans biotch. Also, it’s an infertility office! No one needs to be dressed to the nines!—ok, I’m done, sorry. That was a lot of exclamation points. Wow.
Jimmy and I were escorted back to a hospital-like room, I signed consent, met the anesthesiologist, got an IV placed, and off I went! They laid me down on a very small little table in a creepily sterile room, and I don’t remember much after that. Propofol is a funny little drug. Here one minute, gone the next.
While Dr. E was sucking out my eggos, Jimmy was doing his thing (wink wink). But he was back in the room when I woke up. Unfortunately, it was In considerable pain. Like oh holy hell the cramps! After some pain meds, a snack and a drink to prove I wouldn’t puke, I was wheeled out of there. The whole thing was really quite quick.
I lounged on the couch the rest of the day, and now the really fun part began. Waiting. The day of retrieval is considered Day 0. I was told by the embryologist I’d be updated on my little embryos on day 1, 3, and 5. We left the day of retrieval with Dr. E getting 22 eggs!
Day 1 showed of the 22 eggs, 16 were mature enough to fertilize. Of the 16, 13 fertilized over night. I’m pretty happy with these numbers!
Day 3 (today) showed that of the 13, 12 are still hanging in there! I couldn’t believe this number, and we’re obviously thrilled. Day 5 falls on Sunday, so we won’t hear our count until Monday. Womp, womp.
The waiting and worrying have definitely been the hardest. You can hear statistics and you can read a million forums of what happened to other women, but every one is different. Our genetics are all different. And so, I won’t exactly know what will happen for Jimmy and I until it happens. And boy is that a difficult reality to reconcile.
The days since the retrieval haven’t been the best. I’m dealing with some mild OHSS symptoms (Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome). My ovaries aren’t happy with how enlarged they got, so I’m still pretty bloated/swollen and the cramping and pain hasn’t much subsided. I know it could be worse, and I’m glad it’s not, but I’m about ready for this part to be over. Heaven forbid I run into that lady again because guess what? None of my regular pants be fitting right now wench! Off to dinner in leggings because it’s
Emotions run high. I’m always very aware of how much money this is costing. How much I’m putting my body through. And without a 100% guarantee. That can be hard. I feel like it’s been the main focus of my life right now, and that’s having me second guess all my wants. I don’t know what’s happening with my writing. It’s a gigantic stressful blob that always sits on my shoulders. The pain, tiredness, and hormones make me second guess if I went down the right path. They make me worry over what my future looks like. And I find myself making little deals like “If the baby thing works out then I’ll do this... If it doesn’t, I’ll do this...”
Am I crazy? I probably am a little bit for thinking of such heavy things during this time of hormonal overload. I never realized how hard it is for me to rest until I’ve needed to. Where do you think the guilt comes from in taking care of ourselves? It feels selfish and problematic. I’m doing my best, but some days are probably less than my best. For now, it’s what I can offer.
We’ll wait and see how many embryos make it to day 5! Then after that they will be frozen and the waiting continues (more on this later).
In the mean time, I’m off to distract myself with books, TV, and walks with the insane puppy Arthur.
What should I watch? Read? Please, I’m open to suggestions!
Until next time,