egg retrieval and progesterone.

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.

prior to egg retrieval.

After my initial ultrasound post-meds, I had two more ultrasounds prior to my scheduled egg retrieval.  The first one was on January 9th, the second would be January 11th, and the third was January 13th.

On the 11th, I went in completely apprehensive and prepared for more less-than-ideal news.  I hoped all six follicles were still there, and I wanted an explanation as to why my body wasn't responding as expected.

I went through the blood draw and then headed back to the imaging room.  My husband was able to be there with me, thankfully, since it was a Saturday.  I wasn't sure if I could make it through my anxiety without him.  I got undressed and all situated on the table, waiting for my doctor and nurse to come in.  When they did, they asked me how I was doing.  I explained how nervous I was, that I was surprised I had so few follicles, that I only wanted good news.

My doctor and nurse both did what they could to calm my nerves.  They told me how normal my feelings were, that it only takes one good egg for all of this to work.  They reminded me that my age will really work in my favor.  And then it was time to see what was going on.

As they were situating everything and moving the screen so I could see, I asked why I only had six follicles when I originally had 17.  The only answer I could get was that these were the ones that were good, the ones that could respond.  They would be my cohort to work with this cycle.  It didn't and still doesn't make a lot of sense to me.

I still had the six follicles, and they were growing at a good pace.  My lining was right where they wanted it.  Then on my right ovary, they found an additional follicle.  They weren't sure if it was new or if it had been hiding before, but I gained a follicle.  I can't even tell you what a blessing this felt like.  To just have another follicle, a total of seven, felt like the biggest gift I could have hoped for.

After I got dressed, my nurse taught J how to give the intramuscular progesterone shots in my ass.  He practiced with saline and did great.  It didn't hurt, and he seemed very comfortable.  The progesterone was set to start the night of the egg retrieval.

I was able to leave that appointment feeling good, like things might just work out after all.

My next and final ultrasound was Monday, and unfortunately my husband couldn't be there with me.  I was incredibly nervous for this one too, because they were determining whether I was ready for the trigger shot and whether we could move forward with the retrieval on Wednesday.  It was a sort of post-op appointment, in addition to my regular follicle check.

This time I had the same seven follicles, plus two tiny ones.   My doctor wasn't too hopeful that the new ones would produce anything since they looked to be so immature, but it was nice to know that, while slow, my body was responding.

I left there with instructions for my final Lupron injection, my trigger shot, my progesterone injections, and everything I needed to know for my egg retrieval.  I left feeling okay about things and was just anxious to get the show on the road.

That night, I had class out of town.  The trigger had to be administered at exactly 10 p.m., and I knew I would get home at 9:30 as long as everything went right.  On my drive home, which takes about an hour and a half, I got pulled over for having a headlight out.  I noticed it when I got back to my car after class, but what can you do at 8 p.m. in a different town about an expired headlight?  The officer had to go through standard protocol -- license, insurance, registration, etc.  It didn't take long, but long enough to have me panicking that I wouldn't be home and ready for my shot in time.

I did make it, and J gave me the trigger at 10 on the dot.  It wasn't bad at all, and it just felt exciting to know that it was exactly what my follicles needed to get my eggs ready.

To be honest, I never once paid attention to the pain of the injections, or the inconvenience.  I never once complained.  I never once dreaded them, even.  I looked forward to them, because for the first time in such a long time, I had reason to hope -- even if that hope came from daily needles in my thighs.
Now that it's over, I look back at all of it fondly.  Those days when I didn't know the outcome yet.  When it was all ahead of me.  There was possibility, and I was taking action.  We were moving forward.

Now we're stuck again.  Stuck in sadness.