Tuesday, January 14th was first day off from receiving injections since Christmas Day. It was a bizarre feeling -- mostly panic -- that I had forgotten my shots or missed something important.
That evening we made our way to Oklahoma City, about a three-hour drive, so that we could settle in to our hotel room and enjoy a relaxing night prior to waking up early for the egg retrieval procedure. I had been instructed about not eating anything after midnight and making sure to arrive sans makeup and deodorant and nail polish. So that's what I spent my evening doing -- showering (which I did again in the morning), removing nail polish, eating dinner, and then just hanging out with my husband watching the good HBO shows that we don't get at home. (I miss GIRLS so much!)
In the morning, I showered again (paranoid much?), put on sweats and comfy shoes, and we were off. The hospital was less than a half mile from our hotel, so it wasn't much of a journey. They checked us in right away and took all the money we had to our names.
They led me back to a large recovery room where five beds were separated by curtains. I was given a gown and told to undress. They got me situated in one of the beds with a warm blanket -- always my favorite part -- and then it was time for my IV. They couldn't get it the first time in my right hand, but the first attempt in the left hand was fine. The saline started flowing, and I felt the cold run up my arm.
The anesthesiologist came in to introduce himself and ask me some questions about my medical history. He was so kind and friendly; I liked him immediately. Next up was my RE and his two shadowing medical students. He checked on me and explained things a little more.
My nurse, Jamie, was amazing, and I don't think I'll ever forget her. She took me through the whole scenario -- what kind of anesthesia they'd use and what it would feel like as I went under, how long the procedure would take, where my eggs would go, when I would wake up, that I might be weepy coming out of the drugs, the information they'd have for me upon waking, memory issues, etc. Nothing I experienced that day was a mystery to me because she had prepared me so well and taken such good care of me.
When it was time, they had me empty my bladder and walk back to the operating room. I got situated in a specific spot on the table, and they strapped my legs into the most intense "stirrups" I've ever seen in my life. Before I knew it, I was feeling good as the anesthesia made its way into my blood stream. I felt warm and drunk and sleepy, and that's the last thing I remember.
What seemed like immediately, I was groggily waking up in the same bed I had started in, J sitting in the corner chair. Tears were sliding down my cheeks, but I didn't know why. They told me they retrieved "six good eggs" and they were already with the embryologist. I felt so happy because it really was the best outcome I could have asked for since I only had six or seven responsive follicles. I had hoped and prayed for at least five.
I got my emotions in check and started to feel more and more like myself when another woman was wheeled out of the procedure. She had gone through the same process as us on the exact same schedule with the same physician, so we had come to know one another. We were always there for appointments at the same time, waiting in the waiting room together and with our husbands.
I could tell she was weepy as she woke up also. The doctor came back and told her he had only been able to get three eggs -- that's all there was. And she cried and cried and apologized to her husband. And so I cried again too.
They asked J to go get the car so that I could be wheeled out front and we could be on our way home. They had me use the restroom one last night. I was bleeding a little bit, and they assured me that it was normal and that I could expect to be a little sore.
I felt so good on the way home. They had gotten six eggs. Now, if you had told me two weeks before that they would only get six eggs, I would have been devastated. But having adjusted to only six follicles, it was all I could have hoped for. Funny how perspective changes.
Once we got home, I just wanted to take it easy and watching TV -- do mindless stuff. I hardly had my mind on the call we would get the next day about how many had fertilized.
That evening, my husband gave me my first progesterone shot. I was wary of these shots in particular because of what you hear about them, even because of what my nurse had said about them. I started off with a system, though, and it worked perfectly for the duration of the shots. I heated up a hot pad and put it on the site for about 20 minutes leading up to the shot. I also put the vial of progesterone in my bra to warm it. When the injection was administered, it hardly hurt at all. When it was over, I would spend a couple of minutes massaging the site, and then I'd apply the heat again for maybe 10 minutes. Each night we alternated sides of my butt to inject, and other than one instance where my husband drew blood, they never hurt or caused problems.
I woke up the next morning knowing the call would be coming, and I couldn't have hoped any harder that we would get good news.
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