First of all, thank you for all your kind words and well-wishes. I carried them with me into the clinic today.
Retrieval got off to a bumpy start this morning. The anesthesiologist was running late, which delayed at least two procedures this morning, including mine. They had initially told me it would be a delay of 20 minutes, but things didn’t get started until an hour after I was initially scheduled. It happened to work out that that meant Hubby got to wait with me. We thought I wouldn’t get to see him until after I woke up because he had to teach a class this morning, but he got there just as the nurse was putting an IV in my hand, and he waited with me until the anesthesiologist started hooking me up.
Apparently, they’ve changed procedures a bit since our last retrieval six months ago. They no longer instruct patients to take Valium and Percocet before the procedure, which meant I was awake and alert until the real drugs started kicking in. Last time, I was already feeling loopy by the time I entered the room. Today, I could join in when Dr. C and the nurses were joking around and admiring my Wonder Woman socks. Everything felt different. I felt good.
And then I don’t remember anything.
Minutes later, still in deep sleep, I heard a number: eleven. And I thought, that’s not right. Dr. C said there would be more this time. It must be a Propofol-induced hallucination. Then I was out again.
The next thing I remember is Holly. My lovely nurse Holly. She was with me when I woke up, and Hubby entered the room a few minutes later. They gave me saltines and Sprite. Holly chatted with us while monitoring my vitals before disconnecting all the tubes and releasing my arm from the grip of the blood pressure cuff. When she left the room, Hubby asked if they’d told me how many eggs we got. I said no.
“Eleven,” he said, and I could hear the disappointment in his voice.
“I thought Dr. C said we’d get more this time.” I was confused. That number couldn’t be right.
“I thought so, too.”
Later, Holly confirmed it. Eleven eggs.
I have to admit, I’m disappointed. This cycle was supposed to be different. We were supposed to get better results, more eggs, more embryos. Dr. C practically told us that’s what would happen. I’ve been fighting tears all afternoon. And losing.
You guys are going to think I’m being totally ungrateful, given that, a few months ago–even a few weeks ago–I wasn’t sure this second chance cycle would even be possible. Given that I know many of you would kill for double-digit eggs from a single cycle. To be able to use your own eggs at all.
But knowing how things turned out last time, how the numbers just kept dwindling, until we were left with only one good embryo, and even that one decided not to hang around, I’m sad. Because it looks like we’re headed down the same path this time.
We’ll have to call in the morning to see how many of them fertilized. We’re still planning on a day 3 transfer, but I don’t know if that will leave us any to freeze on day 5/6.
All the hope has drained out of me.