C-day according to Jill

By the time we got to the retrieval, I was feeling terrible.  The last ten days had become pretty disruptive of my everyday life.  I had missed several days of work from not feeling well.  In the early part of the week of the retrieval, I was barely able to stand up straight because I had such pain and cramping due to the hormones.  At one point, I really thought that I was having appendicitis!!  Apparently, I found out at one of the many ultrasounds, my right ovary is actually a bit higher than my left. So with all of the follicles growing, the pain on my right side was still coming from the ovary.

I was feeling relatively calm the day of the procedure.  By then, my curiosity was really starting to get the best of me – I wanted to know how many eggs had been cooking in there!!  And the only thing I was a little apprehensive about was the anesthesia.  I had only had to go under once before, and that was just for my wisdom teeth when I was 16.  So I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the anesthesiologist was awesome and made it all super easy.  One minute I remember talking about manicures and the next minute, only about 20 minutes later, I was being rolled into the recovery room.  Thinking about it now, it’s pretty laughable that I was laying there, legs up in the air in stirrups, and I don’t even remember the doctor walking into the room.

When the doctor came in, he gave us great news.  17 eggs!!  I had really been hoping for double digits, but this was more than even I thought I could hope for.  No wonder I had been feeling so terrible; the doctor said that both of my ovaries had probably grown to the size of grapefruits over the last week.  But he was really optimistic about how things had gone and the likelihood that we would probably end up with extra embryos that we could freeze in case things didn’t work out in this first cycle.

He also told us that they consider retrieval day as conception day, which I suppose makes sense since it’s the day when the sperm and egg come together, but it was kinda neat to think about that.  Although, once we got home, I said to Joe that certainly wasn’t as enjoyable as I thought our conception day would be.  I had to ask him, “Was it good for you?”

Now that the retrieval was done, we just had to wait for the transfer day and I had to start the progesterone shots.  But it was only one shot (which at this point was amateur’s work) and since it had to be given in my backside, Joe has to do that for me. I just have to lie around; they haven’t been painful at all.  Which is a very welcome relief from the weeks of multiple needle sticks.

C-day

The technical term for this is retrieval – the day they go in to get the many eggs that Jill had been growing as a result of the drugs she was on.  I called it “C-Day” because the doctor said this was basically the day of Conception – after retrieving Jill’s eggs, they would be introduced to my sperm, some smooth jazz would be played (or at least I hope there was), and hopefully fertilization would occur.  

It was kind of weird knowing that a 3^rd party (a scientist in a lab) would be ‘intimately’ involved in the process.  At this point I’m obviously aware that this is part of the process, but driving home – thinking about what was going on – it was a bit odd.  

Right now is a pretty hectic time for Jill and I – there are some other “life” things in process that have served as distractions – and I wonder if I’ll look back on this day and ask why I wasn’t more emotional/shocked/expressive.  This whole thing has been a process – a rather scientific process at that – and I’ve consistently focused my attention on that.  Maybe as a defense mechanism – because in isolation I think this could be completely overwhelming.

Box of drugs – the female version

“Holy man!”  That’s what I thought when I saw the size of the box that the drugs were delivered in.  I thought we were only talking about three different vials of hormones with a few needles provided. But this box could’ve held about 6 pairs of shoes.

And when we actually opened the box, it contained more than I was aware of or had ever been told about. I think that’s where most of my anxiety came from in considering this box.  I was prepared for the shots, but I had no idea what this other stuff was for, and I really wanted to make sure that we did everything right so that we got good results.  What if I missed something that the nurses told me?  I mean this box had three different types of injectible hormones, hormone “patches”, three bottles of pills, and four (yes, four) different types of needles.  It even came with a hazardous waste container.  And, we were still waiting for another injected hormone to arrive from another pharmacy company.

I was definitely excited about the process.  We’ve known that IVF was in our future for well over a year, and knowing that (as the person who would be on the receiving end of everything IVF included) had caused a bit of anxiety ever since. Most of the time, it wasn’t something I thought about.  But, now, here we were, ready to start this whole journey. No turning back!

This has been two years in the waiting, and I felt mentally prepared for the fact that this was going to be challenging both physically and emotionally.  It was just that the box took me off guard and took a while to get used to.  The thing that really helped make everything more manageable was the fact that these shots were only really going to last about 3 weeks, and I could certainly live with that.  And, of course, the results at the end could be what we’ve wanted so desperately for so long now.

Big 'Ole Box of Drugs

Having been raised in the US and being a fan of pop culture, I’ve seen my share of drug movies.  Thanks to Scarface, I’ve seen what a big ole pile of drugs looks like.  In addition, I’ve worked in the Pharma industry for nearly 10 years.  I’ve marketed drugs, measured drug levels in patients, studied how different people metabolize drugs, and I’ve even been in a couple clinical studies myself.  

With this background you would think I wouldn’t bat an eye at the box ‘o dope the fertility folks sent us a couple weeks ago (following us forking over nearly $3200) but I did.  It was impressive.  Looking at my wife and thinking that most or all of this was going to be given to her – the majority via needle injection – was pretty daunting.

I think the shock was worse for Jill – I’ve opened boxes full of needles before.  I did some animal testing in the past and I’ve dosed more than my share of lab rats with god-only-knows-what via injection.  For her, though, it had to be intimidating – all those needles, various solutions – I forget sometimes how foreign and, for the lack of a better word, scary it can be. 

Mostly though, this box of drugs represented all that thought and all that planning becoming reality.  We were starting IVF.  This involved handing over the money we had worked for.  This involved starting the meds and the shots every night.  This involved the potential for a baby 9-10 months down the road.  At the time, we were more focused on the procedure of it all – making sure we got the right amounts at the right time – that kind of stuff.  Now – only two weeks later the big picture has started to set it a bit more. 

From my current understanding, the differences between IVF and a traditional pregnancy start about 3 weeks before her egg and my sperm “do their thing” in a petri dish somewhere and continue until about 2 months after “conception.”  This initial round of drugs is used to generate a whole bunch of eggs (which I’ll get into more in my next post) which are collected and removed.  Obviously, in traditional pregnancies, fertilization happens internally (which is called in utero fertilization or just ‘plain ‘ole gettin’ knocked up’).  Then the petri dish dance party happens and they transfer the fertilized egg back into Jill.  Since this happens outside the body it’s called In Vitro, which in Latin means Within Glass.  Then the next round of drugs is used to get all the “you’re growing a baby” stuff happening – which is needed because since fertilization didn’t happen internally, Jill’s body wouldn’t know that it needed to get going.  After a couple months of jumpstarting, her body catches on and she goes off the meds and we basically transition over to a normal OB/GYN and it’s a “normal” pregnancy from that point on.

Please note I said normal pregnancy – NOT normal baby.  No child of mine will ever be called normal.  I simply won’t have it!