I was about to start round two. Its hard to remember all the details at this point because it all starts to blend together. The next huge box of medicine comes to my door step. Night 1 of shots starts and I start to feel helpless. I start worrying if I will even get to day six again. What if the same thing as last time happens again?
After six days of shots, we went in for blood work and ultrasound. Finally, they saw some progress. There were a couple follicles that had started to grow. The doc still wasn’t thrilled. To us, we were just so happy something was happening. You start to hold on to any little shred of hope when you feel like you have nothing. He explained to us that we could go to retrieval although he wouldn’t recommend it. Even when some women have 15 follicles, they may only get 7 or less eggs when they drain the follicles, and maybe only 4 will be mature and 2 will fertilize. It’s a numbers game. So, starting out with 2 follicles isn’t ideal. But for someone with DOR, anything is better than nothing. We decided that since we may never get more than 2 or 3 follicles we would go for it.
I went for my final monitoring before the retrieval. This is the day they tell you what time you have to take your trigger shot. This has to be done exactly 32 hours before the procedure. We were excited that we got this far. So we took the trigger, I went to work, once again pretending that nothing was going on, and the next day I was out for my retrieval.
We arrived at the clinic, me with an empty stomach and full of nerves, and C with a coffee in his hand and also full of nerves. They called my name, I went in, looked back at C with a “well, here goes nothing, see ya in a minute, and the door closed.” I got to the room where I would keep my belongings and strip down to that fancy johnnie dress they give you. Why is it that all OBGYN offices and places where you have to get naked are 55 degrees? I asked the nurse if C could come in now that I was settled and that is when I realized, he couldn’t come in until I woke up from the procedure. I felt like crying. I didn’t even get to say goodbye or get a reassuring hug. Maybe it was for the best, I fear I would have lost it.
I sat in the bed waiting for the anesthesiologist to come and start my IV. I think the IV is worse than anything. I was so nervous I didn’t even use my phone. I just sat there and stared at the wall. The wall is white but there are words painted across the top: “Hope,” “Strength,” “Love,” “Miracle.” I tried to focus on these words and breath. After the IV was done, they had me walk into the OR. Well folks, your shame goes right out the window. There I was, spread eagle on the table. While you are fully awake, they have you walk in, scoot your butt up on the table, mooning the doc in the process, and put your legs in the stirrups. I thought the OBGYN was bad! This was like my vajayjay was on the red carpet. There were about eighty 100 WATT light bulbs shining right on me. Thank god the propofol kicked in and I was out.
I woke up sobbing, as I assumed I would. C walked in and I remember just asking over and over “how many did they get?” They got 2. 2 eggs. We were so happy. We didn’t know if they were good but we knew we got 2. The next cruel thing they make you do is go home and do nothing. You sit and wait for a call the next day to find out if everything you just did for the past 3 weeks worked.
I got the call at work. I was in a meeting and brought my phone in with me just in case. I can’t remember if they were mature or not, but the bottom line is, neither of them fertilized. Nothing. Nada. 12 days of shots, 7 appointments, 7 blood draws, 7 internal ultrasounds, 1 IV, a million tears and in a quick 2 minute phone call, the doc, who usually is the bearer of bad news said nothing worked and he was sorry. I walked right back into the meeting, pretended to pay attention and care, and the hole in my heart grew bigger.