From Stims to Transfer

Guys. I’m trying really hard to keep my mind busy. Can you tell by the cover picture? Why not design a movie poster themed picture?

(Please no jokes on the poor quality – Steve is the tech savvy one in the relationship) But it kept me occupied for a good half hour.

Back to the subject at hand. O-M-G. Those two little circular blobs inside that heart (and currently inside my uterus) are our two ‘Little Test Tubes’. Can you believe it? I still can’t. These past three years have been such a wild journey and I can’t believe we have made it this far.

It was a whirlwind week, but I thought I would take a look back and give you an honest take on what the past week was really like for Steve and me.

Stimulation Week (8 Days Long)

After a month of being placed on estradiol tablets, we waited and waited for my period to show up so we could start the shots. I have never been so anxious and ready to see Aunt Flo (even worse than being in college and wondering if you forgot to take your pill. Should I have said that? Sorry, Ma.).

Once I had started my cycle again, I was scheduled for a transvaginal ultrasound to make sure there were no cysts or anything present before they would start the stim shots. I had a mild panic attack at this one because I spotted a black blob on the screen and thought for sure I was staring at a tumor. Luckily, the tech has dealt with me before and reassured me immediately.

My uterus was given the all-clear, and I was sent for bloodwork to get a baseline of all my levels and told to start shooting up!

Each evening I injected two drugs – Gonal-F and Menopur – subcutaneously (i.e., into my stomach fat.) These two drugs would send my ovaries into hyper drive and produce lots of eggs and prepare my uterus with a nice, thick lining.

I had done Gonal-F before with our hybrid cycles and IUI cycles, so I knew what to expect. Bloating, and a lot of it. Now with IVF, the drug dose was increased and given for more than twice as many days. Your ovaries basically well to the size of a bunch of grapes.

I am not exaggerating – I had to forgo actual pants (all hail flowy skirts and stretchy leggings) and even buy new underwear because I thought my old ones would cut through my stomach.

This is a good image of me after the first couple days.

For eight days, I injected the drugs, and every other day I went for bloodwork to check my estradiol and progesterone levels, and a transvaginal ultrasound to watch the follicles grow.

I loved the ultrasound – well, as much as you can love being violated by a probe at 7am –because I got to see those little follies growing. It was exciting to go back and see the numbers grow and the little follies balloon up. I started referring to them as my cute little balloons.

The bloodwork was a pain in the ass. And the arm. I’m normally a difficult stick as I have tiny, deep veins. I have exactly one good accessible vein. It’s the only one the techs can ever hit, and needless to say it was the one that got used each time.

After each round of bloodwork and ultrasounds I would wait for a call from the clinic to see if we were ready to trigger. This, was honestly THE MOST frustrating part of it. We had a tentative retrieval day of that Saturday or Sunday and it kept getting pushed back. Since we have to go to Grand Rapids for all this, we wanted to book a hotel well in advance and obviously we would have to inform our respective bosses.

Saturday came along and we were driving home from lunch when I got a call from the doctor herself who told me IT WAS TIME! Retrieval would be Monday morning and we were to trigger TONIGHT. Steve was driving and I was frantically trying to find a scrap of paper in my purse to write down the doses and times of the trigger drug.

We rushed home, booked a hotel, packed our bags, and I nervously awaited 9pm for when we would inject the Lupron (subcutaneous) and dun dun dun …. The HCG… intramuscular. Into the behind. With a three inch needle.

Eep.

I had self-injected every drug up until that point but they were all small and in the stomach. I had convinced myself I was going to be brave and able to do it. 

Then the time came.

Steve took this picture of me during stim week. I had to use the 22 gauge PIO needles to mix the Menopur. Sadly, I wasn't exaggerating my terror too much. 

Thankfully, I have some of the best friends on the planet, and my dear friend Nikki offered to play doctor for me. Great friends loan you clothes – amazing friends shoot you in the butt on a Saturday night.

And I’m being 100% honest with all of you TTC folks who are afraid of needles. I didn’t feel a thing. Not a pinch or a poke. I actually asked her if she stuck me – she was already done!!

The next day, we loaded up the car and headed for Grand Rapids. We checked into our hotel and went for dinner at my favorite restaurant – Licari’s Sicilian Kitchen. (If you’re in the area, GO.) I loaded up on fresh linguine with sausage and ricotta, and we got dessert to go. Steve got a great cocktail – I figured there’s no reason for both of us to be miserable.

We plopped onto the bed with our takeout dessert and started binging Home Improvement. We bought the series to take with us and keep occupied for the three days we would be there.

EGG RETRIEVAL DAY!

The clinic gave me a valium for the night before, and promised me I would be able to sleep the night before. I popped it, curled up with my stuffed dinosaur and waited to pass out.

Then 3:00AM rolled around. I was wide awake. I can’t tell you what woke me up or why, but I knew I was awake for good, so I got out of bed, got myself dressed for the day and parked myself in the easy chair with my Kindle and got lost in Game of Thrones.

It felt like forever, but we finally made it to the clinic at 7AM, complete with Therapy Dinosaur Dino in tow (please admire his official badge and hoodie)

BAM. Reality hit me at this point. The reality that I was about to be put to sleep, and stabbed repeatedly through the vagina with a giant metal needle (If you ever want to google the tools used in an IVF egg retrieval, DON’T. DO. NOT. DO IT.)

I’m not afraid of needles or surgery, but I was apprehensive about the pain and whether or not we would get any eggs, and basically, I was a big ball of nerves. I was alternatively pacing and sitting and wringing my hands. Thankfully, my in-laws came along with us. My FIL was there to keep Steve calm and occupied, and my MIL was there to be with me. (Shout out to them – I couldn’t have survived it alone.)

I have to segue for a second. While I was sitting in that chair, probably looking petrified and anxious, a lovely young woman came over, smiled at me, and asked if she could pray with me. I’m a Catholic, but I make an effort to not push it on others, but at that moment, I could have cried out of gratitude. She held my hand and comforted me, and spoke beautiful words. I so wish I had asked her her name.

We were finally called back to the prep area, and I was given *super fashionable* gowns and a hat to wear, and the nurse put in an IV. On a really delightful note, since I was the first one there, the nurse asked me if I had a favorite Pandora station. I, of course, asked for Jackson Browne. Made me feel much better. I always had a dream that we would conceive our first child after a Jackson Browne concert, but maybe an egg retrieval while listening to his greatest hits was just as good.

I had a great nurse, and she nailed that vein on the first go. It was another good sign.

Now, most clinics do the retrieval with just a mild sedative. I *probably* could have handled that if I had to, but our clinic gave the option of something a little more effective, a ‘conscious sedation’. Basically, you’re not asleep but you’re completely unaware of anything going on. SOLD! I don’t have to be aware of that foot long needle? Sign me up. I spoke with the anesthetist (who was fantastic by the way) and he promised me I would not wake up in pain or be aware. That’s all I needed to hear.

I can’t tell you if it felt like an eternity or a millisecond before the nurse came to walk me to the OR, but the time came. I shuffled with my IV stand into the room – freezing, by the way – and sat myself down on the table. Dr. Rosenthal said he would give me “a little something” as soon as I sat down. He wasn’t kidding. As soon as I lifted my legs into the padded stirrups, my head started to swim. I think I even told him “Damn you weren’t kidding…”

Dr. Shavell came in and I signed a form to have all of the surviving eggs frozen and perform the retrieval. Then she asked me how many eggs I wanted trasfered back. I was coherent enough to think, “Oh, shit, I have to decide NOW? I’M DRUGGED” but I asked her what she thought. Her recommendation was two, so I agreed and said “Two. “

That’s all I really remember. I don’t even remember laying down or her leaving to gown up. I blinked at one point and I could tell that she was at the foot of the table and doing *something* to me, but I couldn’t tell you what.

I vaguely remember being slid off the table onto the gurney. Then I blinked again and my MIL was standing there with Dino, and the nurse was telling me they got twelve eggs (yay!)

 It really felt like it all happened over the course of seconds, not an hour. I remember feeling extremely grateful that I wasn’t in terrible pain. I didn’t feel great – there was definitely cramping and bloating and some uncomfortable feelings – but not as bad as I expected.

I think it took a total of three hours from arrival at the clinic to leaving for the hotel. I don’t have the greatest sense of time about it. I’m not even sure I remember the drive from the clinic to the hotel.

My most distinct memory is walking into the hotel with the realization that it was time for the PIO shot! I gotta brag on my husband here. Even being needle adverse, medical adverse and everything inbetween – he helped me shove that three inch needle into my behind (again – I promise you the anticipation is ten times worse. Not even a pinch).

I spent the rest of the day in and out of sleep. I don’t think I woke up refreshed until about 7:00pm. Steve brought me a bread bowl from Panera and my favorite cookies and I was STARVING. Definitely crampy, bloated and sore, but ravenous.

The next day wasn’t terrible. I was moving slowly, but surely. We went to a local mall to walk around a bit and even picked up a onesie for Test Tube. I LOVE Snoopy, so I couldn’t resist.

We found these in FYE. They had an unbelievable sale – buy one, get THREE free. We got all those for eleven bucks! You can’t beat that.

TRANSFER DAY!

I would honestly rate the day of transfer more physically unpleasant than the retrieval. Know why? You need a VERY FULL bladder for the procedure. Your bladder helps push your uterus into view.

I was up at seven and drinking water. Our procedure wasn’t until about 9:45. If not for the fact that they had also given me a valium to relax me, I would have been beyond miserable. I had to pee SO. BAD. Steve read me passages from Stephen Colbert’s new Midnight Confessions book to make me laugh. It was hard, though.

But I had something to focus on. Take a look.

Guys. When Dr. Shavell handed me that picture of those two little beings, I almost lost it. I can’t even begin to describe it. It wasn’t just the hormones, my heart felt like it would explode with love and joy. It didn’t matter to me that they looked no more distinguishable than soap bubbles – it was as if I knew them already. They were ours, and we had been waiting for them all this time.

I saw a picture this Pinterest from another infertility board. It’s so true. . .

Steve and I gowned up, and walked into the OR again together. I was more nervous this time, mostly because I was more aware.

But it was super straightforward. They placed a catheter, and turned the ultrasound screen towards us. We actually got to watch the embabies being placed. It was like watching two little white flying saucers from an old black and white movie.

And there they were. In my uterus.

And there I was. Pregnant.

  

The Waiting IS the hardest part . . .  (Thank you, Tom Petty)

So here we are, three days past transfer. At this point in time, Test Tube I and II should be burrowed into my uterine lining.

Do I know that they are? No. There’s no way to tell.

Can they guarantee us that they will? No. Dr. Shavell gave us a 60% chance of success, given all the factors, but I know enough math to know that 60% is not 100%.

I have done everything I can reasonably and rationally do at this point. I went to acupuncture before and after. I’ve kept my feet warm and I’ve stayed hydrated. I’m trying to not eat total crap each day and fit in fruit, vegetables and nuts.

I even did what I SWORE I wasn’t going to do – I bought a pineapple and have been eating the core. Spoiler alert: it’s GROSS. (For those who don’t know, pineapple core is full of bromelain and is supposed to aid in implantation)

And I have a glass of pomegranate juice each morning. Antioxidants are a good thing.

Dr. Shavell told me there was no magic food or drug to make them stay, and really, you’d need to eat a truckload of pineapple core to get enough bromelain. My cousin said it best, I think. If it makes you feel like you’re in control and contributing, go ahead and do it. But if there was a magic food, we’d all be pregnant.

I’m feeling okay today. Yesterday was a bit of a fiasco for two reasons. For one, when I injected my progesterone I hit a vein. After I pulled the syringe out there were some tiny blobs of blood in the barrel. Normally, you pull back on the plunger to make sure you’re in the muscle and not a vessel or vein. I pulled back and neither Steve nor I saw blood – only bubbles. But I freaked when I saw the tiny blobs after I capped the needle. Needless to say, I made my first post-IVF freak out call to the nurse.

She assured me it was fine.

Later that day, I experienced some spotting. My stomach dropped through the floor and I thought I couldn’t breathe. It was very, very light and brown (TMI maybe but good information for anyone on the IVF journey). I panicked and called the nurse again.

Once again, she assured me it was fine. Brown blood is old blood, and it is 100% normal and expected after an IVF retrieval and transfer. You get poked many times and your cervix is very vascular. It is no big deal for the old blood to work its way out. Repeat after me, fellow IVFers – its normal. You are fine.

At this point, I can’t tell you if I feel “different” or if I actually feel pregnant. What I feel is EXHAUSTED. And bloated. And crampy. And gassy. And headache-y. And a little nauseated (thanks, progesterone).

And those PIO shots make up for not hurting when you take them. Your butt muscles get sore pretty quick. Ice packs and heating pads and a husband who will massage your behind are essential.

My beta blood test isn’t scheduled for another nine days. I told myself I would NOT take a pregnancy test. I would wait. Know how long that lasted? One day. I took one last night.

Idiot. Even if I am pregnant, it’s not gonna show up two days later. I feel sufficiently stupid, so I hope that’s enough to keep me from trying it again until we’re at least 8-10 days out.

So that’s my IVF journey up until this point. We still have one embaby on ice, so there’s always that if these two don’t decide to stick around. Though I am hopeful, I do want to be realistic and I don’t want to be devastated just in case.

Thanks for listening to me so far. If you’ve got questions, hit me. I’ll answer the best I can.

If you’ve been one of the hundreds of people who have sent emails, texts, cards and packages, I can’t say thank you enough. The knowledge that we are not alone is more valuable than I can begin to express.

If you’re of the praying persuasion, say a pray for us and for Test Tube I and II. They are already so incredibly loved and I know so many people are anxious and excited to be a part of their lives. I hope they know that they’re going to be surrounded by love and support.