One year ago today—right now, actually—I was “relaxing” on a hospital bed in a gown that couldn’t be husband knotted enough NOT to expose my bottom. The anesthesiologist had gotten my arm and me “squared away.” We were 15 minutes away from 36 hours since I’d taken my HCG intramuscular trigger shot.
We were excited and hopeful. I was scared shitless. Our expectations were high. We’d arrived—IVF.
The plan was for the doctor to retrieve a lot of eggs but only fertilize eight and freeze the rest for later. Obviously we were going to produce a handful of healthy embryos. Obviously we didn’t need to fertilize too many eggs due to my personal wishes.
One year ago today, a doctor retrieved 17 eggs and minutes later my doctor called the surgery center’s phone line and asked to speak with me immediately. Was this normal? I didn’t know, but I assumed not as I glanced at all the nurses’ concerned expressions. I was loopy as f*** because I’d been given intravenous Benadryl for a cute little rash that was growing on my shoulder. My doctor told me that, yes, there were 17 eggs … and, yes, 14 of them were mature … but we either needed to fertilize all of them or just the eight and discard the rest. All eggs outside of the eight-count range were too poor of quality to preserve. Again, I was under the influence and still quite naïve, so I decided to fertilize just the eight and discard the rest.
A fluke, surely. Eight is good.
Five days later, my doctor ordered his colleague to transfer one high-quality blastocyst. There was another baby who’d likely reach the blastocyst stage on day 6.
On day 7, my nurse excitedly informed me that the day 6 blastocyst had been cryopreserved.
I was disappointed, still had high expectations. My future held two babies, instead of three or four.
God forbid these embryos didn’t bring me my babies, at least I’d have another shot at producing more healthy eggs …? Because this was just a fluke, right?
The last year wasn’t supposed to happen the way it did. Today, right now, I was supposed to have been—say—pumping at work, excited to pick up my baby from daycare in about an hour.
But one year ago today wasn’t supposed to be the start of my baby; I wasn’t supposed to be “two weeks pregnant.”
One year ago today—right now—was supposed to be the start of a different journey.
It was a tough year, but I’m glad I lived it, and I’m glad it’s over.
I’m getting tested for MTHFR and some other “stuff” next week to ease my mind. I’ve been instructed to call my nurse on CD 1. Today is CD 21, so she’ll show up in the next two weeks at the latest I suppose. Happy Valentine’s Day, hubby. 😉
Dear Jesus, please let this CD 1 be the start of a really, really good journey.
Today, one year after my first egg retrieval, I’m excited and scared to admit that I’m very expectant.
I can’t wait to be a mommy.