Egg Retrieval

Reflecting on our Egg Retrieval provokes sharp feelings. We ended up retrieving on Father’s Day morning at 9:15 in the morning. Getting to that moment was truly one of the hardest physical, mental, and emotional undertakings of my life. I calculated the number of injections I gave myself (25) and the number of ultrasounds (6) and blood draws (7) that took place over a 10 day period between June 8th (IVF Day 2) to June 18th, day of retrieval. Each day I grew progressively more uncomfortable and my body felt heavy as if I were carrying a bowling ball in my uterus. At my last ultrasound appointment, the tech announced to me that my ovaries were actually touching internally. That’s how large they had become. Each day I was reassured that everything was looking really good. I began to enjoy talking with the ultrasound tech and the phlebotomist. By the end of the week the phlebotomist actually gave me a hug on our last day together and wished me well. The same lady whom I had considered yelling at months ago for questioning my bravery when I requested to lay down for blood draws. I actually like her a lot now. And I don’t lay down for blood draws anymore. Ha! Building a small relationship forged connection and empathy between us. She learned about my phobias and I learned how taxing it was on her physically to go up the stairs to do blood draws because she draws blood from SO MANY people each day. But she takes it seriously and she cares.

On Thursday morning last week, I had a nurse draw a circle where my ‘trigger’ shot was to go so that I didn’t miss when the time came. In permanent black marker she gave me a ‘bullseye’ and explained to me that sitting down would keep my muscle from tensing up. So, I made a plan to sit for that one. Because it’s intramuscular and because the needle would be much longer than what I’d been dealing with up to that point. Sitting seemed like a good plan. Yep. Friday morning, June 16th my nurse gave me a full page of ‘Trigger Instructions’ as she told me I would 98% be triggering later that evening. This sheet was incredibly specific with instructions. I had two injections that had to be done at exactly 9:15 pm that night since I would likely be scheduled for a 9:15 am retrieval 36 hours later. Of course, we had a wedding that we’d committed to going to up in the mountains that evening. My husband encouraged me to let go of that plan. And I almost did. To both our surprise, I actually convinced him that we should go. ‘We will be triggering at the wedding if we go,’ he warned me. ‘No, we’ll be triggering in our car somewhere in the mountains!’ was my reply. And I was truly excited about it. For most of these 10 days I found myself to be absurdly calm and optimistic. I couldn’t understand why, but I went with it.

So, we packed a cooler full of my medications for two scenarios. The first, we were going to have to ‘trigger’ somewhere in the mountains. The second, my body wasn’t quite ready and we’d just be doing my normal evening dose of Gonal-F or Follistim. I found my trusty black shift dress that miraculously fit and pulled that over my stomach that looked 4 months pregnant. We explained the plans to our daughter and our neighbors took over care for her and our pup. We set off in our car for the mountains anticipating the call from our nurse. As we moved through Nederlands, CO toward our destination at Peaceful Valley Ranch, cell service became shaky. We turned a corner and my phone buzzed and we were given the ‘green light’ for triggering that evening. We were beyond ecstatic. I had to give myself my last evening injection in my stomach as soon as we arrived at the wedding venue. Did that in the car. Then we had to leave the wedding around 8:45 pm to have time to find a private spot, mix my two injections and then trigger away!

I will never forget the intensity of the moment that my husband and I shared as we worked together in the dark, in our car, surrounded by the evergreens in the middle of Peaceful Valley as we mixed those two medications and readied them for injection. I ‘triggered’ for our egg retrieval half in and half out of our car while my husband used the light from his phone to illuminate both injection sites. One on the right side of my stomach and the other high on my back right butt cheek…right in the middle of the permanent marker circle. And they were really pretty painless. I had done it. Still not quite sure why trumpets didn’t start sounding at that very moment in time?! I felt connected to all the people who experience the same feeling…that intense sensation of bravery and endurance that magnifies one’s confidence and tells the world, ‘I am fighting for something extremely important and I will not give up!’ The voice that’s growing inside of me that says, ‘I am so much stronger than I thought I was…I can do anything.’ When we look back on that time in our lives, we will remember it as magical and completely courageous.

My family and friends, my people, rallied around us the next 36 hours. When Sunday morning arrived, I packed my red and white Mickey Mouse socks that my two biggest fans picked out for me. I kissed the men in the house and wished them a ‘Happy Father’s Day’ and we set off for our clinic. I sat and waited for the dance that I’d seen done so many times before. It was different than I’d expected. I met Dr. Greene as we were both being called to the back rooms and he reassured us that he was very good at what he does and he would make sure to get all the eggs he could. I smiled to myself because at this point I’d heard him say the exact same thing 10 times to other couples. I’m sure it’s his standing greeting. And it works. I felt total trust. When we went through the doors, I was surprised at how beautiful and non-clinical the area seemed. Hard wood floors (or at least they looked like hardwood), pictures of babies, good lighting…it felt a little like someone’s home. A super friendly nurse instructed us on what to expect step-by-step and I was instructed to change. My husband had to put my socks on my feet because I was too bloated to bend over comfortably. Once we met the anesthesiologist and he asked his questions, it was time for my husband to say ‘good bye.’ We kissed and wished each other ‘good luck’ and I was escorted by the nurses into the operating room. I fought tears hard as they laid me on the table. I was overcome by the notion that our baby might be conceived within hours of this procedure. I met an embryologist and two new nurses. My IV was placed and the room prepared for Dr. Greene to arrive and begin his work. The last thing I remember was scooting towards the end of the table as the nurses prepared to ‘place’ my legs and telling them, ‘Oh, I can definitely feel the anesthesia!’ When I woke up I was in the recovery room.

In the recovery room I learned that they’d retrieved 9 eggs. I started crying. I didn’t know whether to be happy or sad. I was reassured that this was a good number, but the disappointment overflowed from me. My husband joined me and I couldn’t tell how he felt about the news because I was still disoriented. He had to leave me because his ‘sample’ had been contaminated in the lab (we still don’t understand what happened) and he returned shortly. I wasn’t in much pain, but my heart felt heavy. I had hoped for many more eggs than that. I had 19 follicles growing, what had happened? Was 9 a good number? Answers to these questions would not come until the next day, so we went home to celebrate Father’s Day with my family. I cried a lot that day. I was terrified of what we’d learn the next day.

I received a call in the morning from an embryologist who very factually told me that 6 of the 9 eggs were mature and of the 6 that were fertilized using ICSI (Introcytoplasmic sperm injection), 5 had fertilized normally. 5. All our hopes in those 5 embryos. She said these were good numbers and that we would receive a call on Day 5 of their growth to let us know how many survived to the blastocyst stage. When I asked her what percentage typically survive to this day, she told me that on average it was 30%. 30%. I did the math. So, I’m hoping for 1.5 embryos to still be with us on Day 5? Possibly Day 6, if they need one more day? Yep. Or we could be above the curve. Or we could be below. And if we have embryos, they will be frozen and sent to a lab called Natera for genetic testing to make sure that we’re putting a truly healthy embryo inside my body. My mind began to spiral with this news and I suddenly found myself losing hope.

Even though I have been reassured by the embryologist and my nurse that these are good numbers, I find myself in state of disbelief. I’m scared we will have no embryos. How could we have no embryos? And all we can do is wait. There’s nothing that can be done. They are incubating in our clinic and I have no idea how they are doing. I feel oddly connected to them. All five. My mother listened to my grief and stayed on the phone with me until most of my fears and sadness had dried up temporarily and then she advised me to send those five all the love and light that I could. And so that’s what I’ve been doing. Each time I think of them I imagine a bubble of light surrounding them and I gather all of the happiest parts of my life and channel that joy and unwavering peace straight to them. I do this each time I feel the fear of having no embryos at the end of all of this.

This grief is difficult during a time when my body is still in pain and adjusting to the rise and drop in hormones. I feel myself struggling with patience. I am easily angered and I haven’t felt that in a little while. I feel bloated and uncomfortable and most of my clothes don’t fit. I wonder if the sacrifices we’ve made will actually result in another child. The emptiness of this thought bounces through me and makes me feel hollow. We will either be celebrating in a couple of days, or we will be mourning. I know I can go through another Egg Retrieval process, but I desperately do not want to. For now, I am taking care of my body and sending my Five all the love that I can.

*I am grateful for my family and friends who have supported us through the past couple of weeks more so than ever before. I love getting calls, texts, cards, flowers, emails, meals, etc. as people demonstrate their love and compassion for what we’re going through.