Well, I’m writing this the day after surviving the big egg retrieval! I made it, things went well, and it was a big moment for us. Here’s the recap….
Thursday evening we met my dad and Brooklyn went home with him. She was going to have a fun sleepover with Aunt Abby…complete with pizza, caramel apples, pine nuts, movies, hut building, and all the fun stuff. Grandma was out of town tending to the other Staples children in Texas, so it was up to Grandpa, Abby, and Brooklyn to keep each other in line J I’m sure they had a good time. Jerry and I then had time to grab a quick dinner and a movie….wow, an actual date! It was nice to spend time together before such a big, early day in the morning. I started my round of antibiotics that night and then had nothing else to eat or drink until after the procedure. I received a blessing from Jerry and was able to sleep pretty well, actually. That is, until about 5:00 when our cat Milkey somehow got into the house (through an open back door we later discovered) and jumped up on Jerry while he was sleeping. It was actually a funny moment. It was also the end of sleeping for me. I tossed and turned until 6:30, then finally got up to get ready.
Jerry and I drove to the clinic to be there for our 9:00 appointment. We were about 10 minutes early and they were ready to take us back just before 9:00. They took us to a treatment room where I changed into a lovely hospital gown with booties to match. It was very becoming. I sat in the big, green chair that looked like the electric chair at the jail. It was big and tall and not very comfortable. The room was dim and cold. They also had some lovely music playing. Jerry sat in the chair they provided for the husbands…which was behind my big chair, so it was hard to turn around and look at him. He just kept telling me to relax and that it will all be fine. I think he was a little nervous too, though. The medical assistant came in to take my blood pressure and vital signs. Naturally, my blood pressure was higher than it’s ever been. Then a nurse came in to place an IV. I forgot how much those sting going in. She did a pretty good job after reassuring me that she’s been doing this for 21 years, and so she didn’t need the lights on or gloves…she just does it by feel. Whatever lady…! She did get it in on the first poke, though. She then gave me a paper explaining all the steps for the next few days and weeks including signs of problems, when to start the other meds, when the embryologist will call to schedule the transfer day, etc. There were some activity restrictions as well. She left and said the doctor would be in to sign the consent with me in a minute. While waiting, another nurse hurried into the room to get an oxygen tank…not a very comforting sign. We waited a little more and then Dr Hammoud came into the room with my chart. He sat down on his little roller chair right in from of me—sitting in the big chair—and proceeded to explain the risks of this procedure. He told me the medicine would put me into a ‘twilight zone’ where I will hear things but not understand them, and feel pressure but not pain. The list of risks included things like bleeding, infection, damage to all the eggs, and or damage to internal organs that would require surgery. Again, not very comforting. But, we didn’t come all this way to back out now, right!? He assured me that never once has anyone from this clinic required any surgery or extensive follow-up care. He signed the consent and then I signed. They shortly came into the room to get me and take Jerry to where he would wait. I kind of thought and hoped that he could stay with me, but from a medical point of view, I understand why they have family go out of the room. It was a little weird to say bye to him.
I looked into the retrieval room. It was a little scary looking. It also had a big green “electric” chair. This time it was all covered in surgical towels. The room was dim with a few bright spotlights, an ultrasound machine, and a couple of instrument tables. One girl in the corner was in a green surgical gown putting together some kind of tubing and other items. My nurse for the procedure was Jannine. She told me where to put my feet and arms, put an oxygen monitor on my finger and a blood pressure cuff on my arm. She covered me with a ton of blankets and then started putting medicine into my IV. She said “This works pretty quickly, so just close your eyes and relax.” What! Me, close my eyes and relax!? Impossible. She then said, “I’m going to tip this chair back like at the dentist.” And that was it…I was starting to feel fuzzy and heavy. I guess the medicine was working. I don’t remember the doctor coming in or a whole lot after that. The things I remember are feeling like the blankets were really heavy, pressure and cold water (have no idea what water would have been doing there, but that’s what it felt like), the blood pressure cuff going off every few minutes, and hearing people talk. At the moment, I thought I understood what they were talking about, but I’m not really sure I did. I peeked though my eyes one time and remember seeing a bright light by the doctor and people wearing green surgical gowns, surgical hats, and masks. That’s the only visual picture I remember of the procedure. I do remember feeling some intense pressure, but no pain. For a moment I though that maybe I should tell Jannine I need more meds, but I couldn’t figure out how to do that. It was like I was separated from the world around me…totally the ‘twilight zone.’ I also remember Jannine putting her arms on my back and helping me to stand and transfer into the recliner chair for recovery. I don’t remember the procedure chair tilting back up or them wheeling me into the recovery room. All I can use to describe it is that it’s literally like a dream. When you are having the dream, you think you are totally in control and coherent. You may even know you are having a dream. But, when you wake up, all you remember is that you had a dream. You might be able to remember that it was generally about puppies or something, but the details are way too fuzzy to piece together. At some moments during the procedure, I remember thinking I totally knew what was going on and that I was listening to the conversations around me. But, like I said, it felt like a disconnection with anything outside of what was going on in my head. It was definitely the ‘twilight zone.’
I don’t remember the transfer to the other room. But, apparently my Aunt Jennifer was there…surprise! She actually works at a clinic in South Jordan and was doing some training at this clinic for a few days. She had seen Jerry and then I wheeled out of the room. I know I was still fuzzy in the head, so I have no idea what I said to her or if I even acknowledged her, but I do remember her stopping into the recovery room and saying ‘hi.’ The assistant hooked me up to the blood pressure cuff and O2 sat monitor again, and I was still covered in blankets. After about 15 minutes they brought Jerry into the room. It was nice to have him back with me. Of course, I thought I was totally with it, but he kept laughing and thinking I was a little snowed. He texted my parents and let them know things went well and that I was resting. I was just glad that I didn’t feel nauseated or painful. I probably could have handled the pain, but I had been terrified that the meds would make me sick. Good news…no sign of that...and I was sure thankful! In fact, after a while the assistant brought me some delicious cranberry juice and crackers and I ate them like I was starving. I then told Jerry I wanted Café Rio. I did have a pretty good headache, though, and they gave me some Tylenol. After a little more than an hour in the recovery room, they let me get dressed. My legs felt a little bit like Jell-o, and my head was a little foggy, but I felt pretty good. I got to ride in a wheelchair to the car. J Some young guy and Jennifer helped walk me out. It was kind of nice to have a familiar face around. I remember trying to explain to her where Brooklyn was and how the family was doing, but who knows what I actually said. I remember her saying that she would be there again on Wednesday, hopefully the day they do the embryo transfer.
We picked up Brooklyn and some Café Rio, and headed home. By the time we got home I was pretty tired. Jerry went back to work and I fed Brooklyn some lunch then turned on the TV for her. She was such a good girl and let me sleep on the couch for a while. She’d come give me hugs and drinks and love. I was kind of sore through out the day, but was allowed to take Tylenol for the pain and headaches. When Jerry got home we went to pizza and Toads to let Brooklyn have a little fun. By the time we got back, I was ready for bed again.
Today I feel just fine and am back to my normal self. I’m still a little tender, but nothing worth even a Tylenol. Things went so well, and I am so pleased. I always worry for no reason, but that’s just me. Like I told one nurse, it’s easier to be the nurse and not the patient. However, I have been blessed to have things go so well and be able to feel pretty healthy. Now, I take progesterone shots in my hip every day and an antibiotic twice a day for a few days. I’ll take the progesterone for about a month, then six more weeks after that if my pregnancy test comes back positive. So, me and that needle are about to become good friends. Jerry’s given me a few shots and he’s done a good job. On Sunday the embryologist will call us to update us on the little growing embryos. As my brother put it, ‘We have little children growing in a Petri-dish.’ A weird thought, but true. I hope they take good care of them. Depending on how well the cells divide and grow and how healthy they look, the embryologist will decide when the best time to transfer them back into momma will be. That will most likely be on Monday or Wednesday, and then I’ll have a few days of bed rest to promote the beginning of a pregnancy. That’s actually one of the greater things that I worry about. Up until this point, science has pretty much dictated what will happen. After the transfer, we do what we can—like take progesterone—to ensure a pregnancy develops, but it’s pretty much up to the other powers that be. It will either happen, or it won’t. We just have to wait and see. They call it a ‘chemical pregnancy.’ We can fake out the body to make it think and act like it’s pregnant. But then a confirmed, or live, pregnancy occurs when the body has accepted the little embryos and will support them on its own. That will be the miracle we’ve been waiting for.
This has been an intense and yet exciting week. The part I’ve been most anxious about is over and went well. The transfer will be another procedure, but won’t require any sedation. I think there are a few more emotional hurdles to jump over. The anticipation of the pregnancy test results in a few weeks will be enough to keep me crazy. I am so grateful for Jerry and his emotional and physical support. I’ve been working a lot less lately, to reduce stress and increase sleep and health, and he’s working as hard as ever to ensure that bills are paid and everything else is taken care of. This has taken a lot of communication and cooperation, also. He’s a great husband and support. He’s had his fair share of unpleasant moments through this adventure also, but he’s positive and humorous, and always looks forward. Brooklyn has also been a trooper. I try to educate her a little about what’s happening. She still plugs her ears and says, “I know, I know, you don’t have to tell me.” Silly girl. But, she’s a good girl and always full of love and hugs when we need it. My great family and friends have also been so supportive and sweet. This has been a great journey so far. And, while it’s not over yet, I can say that I’m so glad we’ve had the wonderful opportunity to experience the miracle of modern medicine to bless our family and learn and grow. Our little family has grown closer together, and that in and of itself is a blessing.
