The day started with me feeling jittery. Lots of achy feelings, but I think a lot of it was from an upset stomach/gas. It was hard to tell. We got to the surgery ward at 6:30 like we were supposed to, the nurse started me on paperwork and stuff. Then she left me so I could get dressed. Well as I’m getting dressed another nurse actually comes halfway into my little “privacy” pod to access some cupboards. Den was staring at me and mouthed, WTF?? And then my nurse walks in to give me my socks. I’m getting changed here – I’m done, but hello, would you ask if it’s alright to come in?? Good thing I don’t have modesty issues, but it really pissed Den off.

Then I got in bed and she started on the IV. I have to say, it was the best/easiest IV I have had to date. Before she started she asked me if I had had any issues with IVs in the past. I laughed. So I gave her a brief overview and warned her about the valves and that small needles are definitely the best. I felt the lidocaine numbing the area, that stung, but then when she went to put in the actual IV I didn’t feel a thing – I have always felt it! It didn’t hurt at ALL, and it went straight in, not a single issue. Den said, “We’re going to have to take your name and number.” LOL! I was wicked happy about that.

That was at about 6:50. My surgery wasn’t until 7:30… and we know from experience that no one else shows up until really close to surgery time. So Den and I just sat and talked and goofed around for 40 minutes. Fun waste of time. (Oh, and I didn’t have my Blackberry… I forgot it at home on the charger. Brilliant!) The anesthesiologist Resident came to talk to me, then the OR nurse and the Anesthesiologist. Same standard questions every time. And then we sat and waited for the RE to show up. at 7:30 I was getting really anxious. I was still feeling a lot of pressure and twinges from my ovaries, and remember how we triggered 2 hours earlier than normal? Den gave me a neck massage as I was just starting to panic that the doctor was late and I was going to start ovulating. Thankfully she ran in at about 4 or 5 minutes late (traffic), but those minutes took forever.

The anesthesiologist said it was time to go, let’s go he says. I’m sitting in bed with an IV in my hand, the bag hooked above my head. And he just walks off towards the OR. Umm. Hello? I get up, try to hold my gown closed, Den struggles to get the IV bag off the hook and hand it to me. I walk myself to the OR. Then the guy took the bag and we go in. It just felt very unorganized. I get up on the table, someone’s trying to figure out how to stick the arm wing in to it, I’m laying there for several minutes until the nurse brings in the warmed blankets. I get the stickies on my chest, the oxygen mask on my face, finally I’m feeling a little bit more secure. Ready for that anesthesia, man. I’ve had enough of the anxiety… just knock me out already. The anesthesiologist says, “Okay, we’re going to start giving you the medications.” Great! And I wait. And wait. I stare at the ceiling. Definitely still clear as a bell. They seem to still be putting things into my IV. The nurse is getting my legs strapped in the stirrup things. People are moving around, getting ready to start the retrieval… and I’m still awake. Finally I feel some burning in my IV hand and figure the drugs must be coming. I stare at the ceiling some more. Oh, there’s a little bit of woozy. I wait some more…

I obviously fall asleep, because I wake up at the tail end of retrieval. I wake up IN the OR, which has never happened before. Usually I’m knocked out soon as I lay down on the operating table/bed, and wake up in recovery. But no, I come to conciousness in the OR, things are still going on! I’m thinking in my head WTF!! Really, really not thrilled with the anesthesiologist at this point. I do doze off, or at least am just at the very edge of consciousness. I can hear things going on around me.

When I really come to I’m laying back in my bed in the recovery pod, but ALL of the doctors and nurses are crowded around me. I have no idea what’s going on, but this is really not right. I see Den standing off to the side, watching with a concerned look on his face. But looking at him reassures me. I drift in and out, but not in a happy la-la-land kind of way… more in a frustrated, anxious in-and-out, wondering WTF is going on. Finally the crowd disburses somewhat and it’s just my nurse next to me, watching the monitor. I had overheard some things about my heartrate being high, so I ask her… is that what all the fuss was about? Yes. My heartrate jumped way up after I was taken out of the OR. She asked if I have anxiety attacks at all, how long since the last one. I tell her it’s been a few years since a full-out panic attack, but I definitely have some experience with a racing heart and anxiety. She thinks that’s what happened to me. Well duh. I woke up in the damn OR and I was feeling extremely anxious to start with.

Thankfully my heart rate went down bit by bit as they were watching. Unlike all previous retrievals I was actually wide awake within minutes, which further confirms to me that they did NOT sedate me enough.

Someone from the embryology lab talked to my doctor, who told Denis the count: they got 12 eggs. 12. That is my lowest count to date…. and if I had normal eggs it wouldn’t bother me so much, but last time we only had a 30% egg maturity rate, and that was my GREAT cycle. I just wanted to cry. I knew we had less follicles this time but I was hoping to hell for at least 17 eggs. I just didn’t think it was going to be that low. I asked the doctor if someone could please call me with the mature egg count later on in the day when the lab went to ICSI them, so at least I’d have some info before the fert report. For me the mature egg count is most important – most unpredictable. (Or at least predictably poor.)

I did ask the doctor if it looked like anything had ovulated prematurely, and she said she’d be able to tell and it certainly didn’t look like it. Everything was there… 12 was all I had.

We came home, my beautiful new chair was delivered, I took two oxycodones (left over from my laparoscopy earlier this year), and we went out for brunch, as is our tradition after retrieval. I started feeling a lot better. I took the meds not because I was in pain – actually I feel great, better than before retrieval when everything was aching – but because I really hoped it would make me a bit loopy and take the edge off of my anxiety. And it did. I was sitting in the breakfast restaurant with my eyes closed, feeling pleasantly buzzed. I had a lovely strawberry waffle with extra whip cream, Den had the salad bar. Then we went to Blockbuster to buy some “previously viewed” movies to watch on our big screen TV. He came home and watched a movie. I came home and took a nap. LOL The oxy was making it hard to concentrate.

My phone woke me up at 3pm, a call from the nurse. 5 mature eggs that they were able to ICSI. Out of 12 that’s actually a really nice number… that’s nearly 42%. Last cycle was 8/25, or 32%. So at least that is one piece of good news.

But in the end 5 good eggs is still significantly less than 8, and that’s where I get all buggered. It’s not terrible – hell, last stims cycle I would have been fucking THRILLED with 5 good ones. But last time was kind of our best case scenario. We had 6 embryos total from 8 ICSI’d eggs, which was totally and utterly amazing. But of those 6, 1 we transferred and 2 were good enough to freeze… so half of them were of great quality. This time we have 5 good eggs to work with, which means we’ll probably get 4 embryos. We’re transferring 2. I don’t think we’ll be getting any to freeze. And that just makes me so disappointed… with only this and one more stims cycle left I feel like time is running out and I so, so wanted one frozen cycle in there.

Of course anything can happen, numbers can surprize me. Maybe all 5 will fertilize… or maybe we get 4 but they’re all fantastic quality. We’ll just have to wait and see. Either way we’ll transfer 2 and hope that nothing else really matters.

Oh, and physically I feel fine. No cramping or pain or achiness at all. I know the fluid will build back up over the next few days and make me feel a little worse, but right now I feel great. Just sleepy from the oxy, which is better than feeling anxious and upset so I’ll take it.

I’m feeling much better tonight. I’m still irritable and just a little upset at how things went, but I’m also not on the verge of tears or spitting nails.

First of all, my new recliner. Oh it is lovely. It fits me just right and it’s great to recline back with my laptop on my lap… it’s more comfortable than propping myself up with a million pillows in bed. I can totally see myself spending a lot of time here when pregnant – even sleeping here on those nights of heartburn or hip achiness. And then I can picture myself rocking a baby to sleep, or nursing in this chair. It’s just the right size for that. I don’t have the TV set up in here yet, but when I do it’s going to be just such a nice all-in-one spot for me. And it’s in my living room, my favorite room. I think I need a new lamp or two, though… but at least the cheap one I have is enough to read by. So for whatever reason just having my chair and rocking in it has chilled me out a little bit. It’s a nice little comfort.

The disappointing sting of lower numbers is starting to fade a little. I have to face the fact that for me 5 embryos is still really good. I’m hoping to get 4 or 5 embryos tomorrow, and that’s not really that much less than last cycle. We still have a lot of hope, a lot of promise here. We’re going to transfer 2 embryos, which gives us a pretty good chance of getting pregnant. And if that happens then who the hell cares how many eggs we got? The cycle that gave us Devin I had 13 eggs retrieved, only 1 mature, 1 embryo… and I got pregnant. The end result is all that matters. Having frozen embryos would be nice, but I have to remind myself that it is not the goal of the cycle… it’s just a nice bonus, if we get lucky.

But we have 5 good eggs. I think that’s why I’m so calm tonight. Last night was really rough because of all the unknowns… tonight I have a good idea of where we’re sitting this time. Tomorrow we will know more.

Well we have 4 embryos! That’s what I was expecting (though I was hoping for 5). The other news is that she said they were able to ICSI 6 mature eggs… That means fully half of my eggs were mature! That’s amazing! So I’m confident we’ll have 2 good ones to transfer. Not so confident we’ll end with any frozen. But I really am hoping that won’t matter. She said to expect a day-3 transfer, which is a little disappointing – but if all 4 look top quality on friday there is still a possibility of a 5-day. So we’ll see.

I am not feeling well today. I am getting more bloated by the hour and my stomach is very upset… My pants are completely unbuttoned at this point. I really wish I could go home (but I’m taking friday off for transfer, so I can’t afford to lose more hours). I would really really like to lay down.

Yep, it are my birthday. I is 27 nao.

I struggled all day today with a sense of futility. Why am I doing this again? Do I really expect a different outcome? I’ve had a lot of BFNs, and a lot of bad news even with BFPs. I really can’t think about beta day without my breathing getting shallow. I do not get that hopeful, giddy feeling about testing anymore. I just get this sick pit in the bottom of my stomach, fearing more heartache.

It still stings when my friends get tons of embryos in a cycle. Sometimes I forget that I’m different… that my result is very much not the normal. Even IVF shouldn’t be this hard… but for us, it is. My eggs just aren’t right. And every cycle, over and over again, it’s a bit of a shock all over again. And I feel stupid for being taken aback, because it’s not as if I forgot. But in between cycles I can let it go a little bit… it’s not so important. Until you’re mid-cycle and needing every single embryo you possibly can get, then it hurts like a knife wound. Broken. Still, always.

Which is not to say this cycle is a disaster – it most certainly is not. I am still tickled pink by getting a 50% maturity rate. Whether that’s due to the lower number of total follicles, or in part because of acupuncture, or just one of those normal variations, 50% is absolutely amazing for someone with my diagnosis.

But still it comes down to 4 embryos. The best 2 will be transferred. What are the odds that the other two will be good enough to freeze? I mean, really, thinking logically here. What are the odds that all four of my embryos will be of top quality? Not so good, I’m thinking. In any batch you’re going to get some better than others. I think the best I can hope for right now is one frozen, but even that seems unlikely. Of course all the conjecture in the world won’t be able to predict the future… so in a week we’ll know the answer to this one. I just hope so much for a frozen. Even if I DO get pregnant there’s always going to be that fear now of losing it and having to go through it all again.

And then the choice to transfer 2. Oh. I don’t even know where to start with this one. Let’s put it simply: I do not, on any planet, want twins. Den does, I don’t. The thought of both implanting does not make me all warm and fuzzy inside, it makes me want to hyperventilate. Do you know how much riskier a twin pregnancy is than a singleton? And do you know how freaking paranoid I’m going to be with a singleton? I am transferring 2 embryos because past experience has shown that they really don’t like to stick in my uterus. (Last stims cycle, for instance: transferred 1 fresh, 1 frozen, 1 frozen. 3 top-grade blasts in my uterus, only one implanted, and it was in the wrong goddamn spot.) We figure by transferring 2 we will have a better chance of one of them sticking. I feel pretty confident in my decision, but sometimes it freaks me out still.

Regardless tomorrow is the day, unless the lab calls me to postpone to Sunday (which is highly unlikely). I will be bringing Den’s mp3 player with some of my meditation music so I can chill out for the 30 minutes after transfer before coming home. I have the day off work, time to just kick back and let the embies settle in.

Physically I am feeling a little better today, which I am very thankful for. Yesterday was just not a feel-good kind of day. I was keeping an eye on the weight gain (because oh I was gaining), urine output, and keeping an eye out for swelling and other kinds of pain. So I’d say I have another case of mild OHSS… mild enough to not need any interventions, and it’ll probably diminish pretty quickly, but really not a fun couple of days. I think back to the retrieval that gave us Devin – they got 13 eggs that time, and the next day we went on vacation to Boston where we walked on foot all over the city until we drove back for transfer. I got 12 eggs this time, and there is no way in hell I would be touring a freaking house on foot, much less traipsing all over a city. I wonder if it was the pregnancy that is making it worse, if I’m just getting more sensitive over time, or if the ectopic/tube removal surgery is adding to it. Maybe some combination. Maybe I’m just getting older. My poor ovaries. It feels like I’m lugging around two softballs in there. Two fluid-filled, sloshy, sore softballs.

I think I need more sleep. Definitely need more sleep.

Transfer today was very different from previous transfers. As Den said as we drove in, “After this many times, it seems very anti-climactic.” And then we got into an argument about twins vs. singleton, Den on one camp, me on the other, going back and forth about our different fears that drive our hopes and dreams. I, getting upset, finally said, “This isn’t really a good time for this!”

I got dressed in the gown, tucked into bed, and listened to my meditation music on the mp3 until I got wheeled in. It was that point in the OR that I realized… my underwear is still on. Of all the things to forget about when undressing for a vaginal procedure, underwear is a pretty big one. So I shuffled out of them and stuffed them behind my back. Whatever.

The embryologist came in to say that we’re transferring 2 8-celled embryos today. I asked her how the other two look, and I think she said one is an 8-cell and one is a 7-cell, both with some fragmentation. They give you a cute little patient report card after the cycle is over (and embryos are frozen or nto), but really want to get ahold of their full info sheet that she was checking on her clipboard. Screw the overview, give me the nitty gritty.

We used to watch the ultrasound screen as the embryos were transferred, tears welling up in our eyes, knowing that we were now well on our way. Now we’re very guarded. We watched quietly, Den silently fretting about the exact wording the RE used (was it “fairly good embryos” or “very good embryos”?), me with a very full bladder and aching ovaries, hoping they can get that catheter in nice and quick so I can go lay down and then later pee. Not saying that it wasn’t something special – every transfer we file away the memory in our head as something we may pull out later as a pivotal moment. But we may just drop it in the recycle bin. Right now we just don’t know, so we watch and we wait.

I asked Den if we have any names for these little embryos. He said, “Well until we actually know something’s sticking around, right now they’re just Tweedledee and Tweedledum.” Well I’m not too sure about that. Of course if one actually sticks around and gets me pregnant then there will be an official naming. But that’s a large if.

I had a lovely massage today! Scheduled of course for within days of transfer.

I think I may just have found what I am looking for. My last massage was very… purposeful. He was well trained and worked every knot. But I felt like I was missing a connection. I circled some problem spots on the diagram on the intake form. He didn’t say much other than “Hi, lay facedown to start.” It just felt very disconnected, and while I know that would work for a lot of people (like my husband), it’s just not enough for me. Today the massage therapist invited me into her treatment room. We exchanged some words about what I want. She even used a reference book to look up my astrological signs (“to help understand where you might be holding your tension”). She just seemed a little more earthy than anyone I’ve been to before, and obviously I am really leaning towards that now.

The real test, of course, was the actual massage. And oh, it was lovely. The right amount of pressure. A heat pack while she worked on my limbs. She found those knots in my shoulderblades. She gave me a delicious head/scalp massage. She spent some time stretching out my lower back (that’s one of my chronic pain issues). She incorporated some hot stones into my shoulder/neck and foot massage.

An hour went really really quickly.

::

I am seriously in love with my new recliner. It’s a rocking chair, which I must say I love far more than I thought I would. I pull my knees up under my body and gently rock back and forth as I watch my TV and I just feel so peaceful. Then I can recline it back, laptop on my lap. It’s a lot easier than getting in bed and shuffling the three pillows behind me and still getting a sore neck (plus then I’m stuck in bed).

The microfiber fabric is wicked easy to clean up (already tested thanks to dirty cat paws), but unfortunately it’s not as soft as the microfiber couch downstairs. Easy fix: my Devin Blanket comes with me. I have slept with that blanket covering me every day since I bought it, and now when I get up it moves with me to my chair. Soft, minky fabric with so much meaning to me.

My cat likes my recliner, too – he likes the fact that I am spending time in the living room (since cats have been banned from the bedroom due to allergies and the annoyance factor). Last night Jo very quietly and smoothly crawled onto my lap in front of my laptop, stretched out, and fell asleep purring. It was all I could do to gently put the laptop to the side and just pet him, savoring the moment. A soft, warm purring body is just such a lovely thing.

It’s my own little corner of the house. My desk, my TV, my chair. In my favorite room of the house. Now if I could just get the window trim on this side of the room painted, the ceiling painted, the floors refinished… the maybe it would be halfway there. LOL

::

The progesterone is already causing some significant “progesterone symptoms.” My intestines/bowels are completely stopped up… which, combined with puffy, unhappy ovaries, is making me feel a little bit ill. I am also running very warm, waking up sweating. Yuck! Oh, and the boobs are hurting.

::

On my birthday I wasn’t feeling well enough to want to go out anywhere, so I asked Den if he could pick up some steaks and maybe some flowers. He ended up cooking me a fantastic filet mignon (cooked rare – last time in 9 months, I am hoping). Which would have been very good by itself. But I walked in from a late day at work to find zucchini and mushrooms being fried up on the stove, and a lovely vase of flowers on the table. He served us both and we sat down to eat. At a table. Together. I know, it’s shocking.

And then tonight we went out to dinner, where we absolutely stuffed ourselves. Unfortunately it wasn’t as good as previous meals at this particular restaurant have been in the past, but it was still a very nice night out. But again… lots of pressure on the poor ovaries. I am sorry, girls. I promise tomorrow I’ll lay around and be nice to you.

::

I really don’t feel like I’m in a 2ww. I’m making choices that obviously reflect the more-than-midway-in-an-IVF-cycle mentality, like avoiding rare steak, but I just don’t feel it. Coworkers say, “I have a really good feeling about this one, Nat,” and I just think, yeah, everyone says that every time. It’s more than just being afraid of a negative outcome; it’s expecting a negative outcome. And it just feels easier to live as if that’s what’s coming, rather than making myself sick on daydreams and hopes. Suspended belief. A nothing. Invested, but not. My emotional mind still reels after so much struggles and I’m just giving it some space. Maybe it will catch up, maybe it won’t – either way it won’t change the outcome. I’ll have to deal with it soon enough.

Today we went to a relative’s large yearly picnic. There were of course children. And there, too, were those moments when I abruptly looked away as the image flashed through my head about how my child should be running around, too. But for most of the time it was just eating and listening to relatives chit-chat and even thinking about what chores I needed to get done and how I was glad I wore my larger jeans because hell that was a lot of food.

Last year was a very different picture. Much of last year is a haze, but that day stands out for me. I remember feeling like crawling out of my skin. I felt like an elephant among giraffes – everyone knew, but everyone politely avoided mentioning it. It – the incident, our son. I wasn’t yet at a point where I was okay with that; it was all that filled my head, all that really mattered. My son is dead. Why am I at a picnic when my son isn’t? I ended up in the pool, with others and yet alone, separate. Being underwater is a good deterrent to idle chit-chat. I insisted we bring the dogs, too, as little anchors to hold on to.

It is often quite shocking to look back and compare year to year and realize just how far I’ve come. I don’t even really realize the changes as they occur, but suddenly I’m in one place when I used to be in another and I’m not really sure how I got here. It is so important to see it – especially on the bad days. Sometimes we just need the reassurance that progress is being made. This year is better than last year, and next year will be even better yet. One step at a time.

I’ve been sitting here in my living room enjoying my evening, just thinking about how peaceful I am, how happy I am that this room is coming together. And then I take a step further back to examine myself in this setting and realize, I am calm. I am peaceful. I am in large part happy. Maybe just for a moment, and certainly not about everything in life, but at least I have that moment. It feels like such a profound thing. A loss makes you appreciate far more than just what you physically have, it makes you appreciate how you feel. After living in such a grief for so long there came a point when I realized that I could breathe again. Oh it felt good. All my previous life I’d been breathing and never paid attention, never thought about it. Now every day that I can look out the window and smile, every day that I can spend time being silly and playful, every day that I can feel at peace is a day that is treasured.

Though an atheist, I have always been fascinated with astrology – not because I think that there is any science to the stars and planets mystically imbuing people with specific characteristics at birth (because, really??), but because it’s always been scarily accurate for me. I got a quick star chart online the other day, as I was curious what my moon and rising signs were (I always forget – all I remember is that I am Virgo). It was like someone sat down to interview me and then summarized. Just ask my husband how much this sounds like me.

Sun in Virgo
Extremely careful and cautious by nature, you value neatness and order above all else. You rigorously practice very high standards of living and conduct and you demand the same of everyone with whom you come into contact. At times, you are so supercritical that you are merely nit-picky. You are very good at practical skills and quite handy with tools of all kinds. You are also greatly concerned with hygiene, cleanliness and personal health problems. Very likely your health is much better than you think it is — don’t worry so much! Extremely methodical and analytical, you are a perfectionist — this makes you the perfect person to carry out highly detailed, precise operations. But, at times, you pay so much attention to details that you lose sight of the larger issues.

Rising Sign is Taurus
Calm and deliberate, you hate to move quickly or act hastily. Very practical, every effort must count or you can’t be bothered. Patient, persistent and steady, but very stubborn — you can’t be pushed or pressured into anything. You seem outwardly self-assured because you tend to repress your inner tension and turmoil. You exude an earthy warmth, friendliness and charm. You demand comfortable surroundings and appreciate the good life. Be careful of a tendency to be overly self-indulgent. At times, you are lazy and difficult to motivate. Overcoming inertia is a problem for you and, because you are not by nature a self-starter, it is often necessary for you to receive stimuli from others in order to get moving.

Moon in Pisces
You have strong feelings and are extremely sensitive. It would help if you had a thicker skin — you tend to react emotionally to every situation you come across. Kind, gentle and considerate of the feelings of others, you are good at taking care of the sick, wounded and helpless. But you tend to absorb the energy of others — so avoid those who are always negative. You have a rich, creative and lively imagination, but you should be careful not to spend all your time daydreaming. Very intuitive, you have good ESP and may be quite clairvoyant or psychic. Remember that you too have the right to get what you want from life. If you are always defensive and kowtowing to others, people will take advantage of you and exploit you.

Mercury in Libra
You are known for not jumping to conclusions about things. You tend to weigh all possible choices very carefully before making a decision. When in the slightest amount of doubt, you will compromise rather than ruffle any feathers. You are a true raconteur of culture and taste — your ideas and opinions are neat, elegant and refined. A born diplomat, you dislike discord so much that you will go out of your way to make others feel comfortable and at ease. You speak softly and pleasantly.

Venus in Leo
You have a striking, regal appearance and demeanor that attracts others to you. Your friendship is highly sought and you tend to take friendships quite seriously — you remain loyal and true to those to whom you are attached. For you, love is mixed with pride and respect. Relationships are over when you lose respect for your partner. Be careful of a tendency to relate only to those who make you look good — the powerful, important and influential. This can lead to arrogance and selfishness, and neither of these qualities becomes you.

Mars in Scorpio
Your likes and dislikes are strong and intense, never casual or superficial. You are known for your persistence and willful obsession. Once you have decided on a course of action, you are unstoppable. Your emotional actions tend to be extreme, although you try to keep them muted. You are not quick to anger, you do slow burns. And you tend to release your anger as sarcasm or irony. Beware of your tendency to hold grudges and to be vengeful. When you do fight, or release your internal tensions, you do so body and soul — you become totally passionate and your outbursts are awesome to behold.

Kinda freaky.

My eyes are welling up with tears as I sit here at my desk at work and I want to jump up and down because

WE HAVE A FROZEN EMBRYO!

The nurse just called to tell me. One of the two remaining embryos was high enough quality! I am stunned, I really am – I think my mouth dropped open when she told me and I squealed, “Really?!”

My numbers this month have totally blown me away. 12 eggs total really upset me, I have to say, because with the same percentages as last stims it wouldn’t have left us with much.

Here was last cycle’s stats:
25 eggs retrieved
8/25 mature – 32%
6/8 fertilized – 75%
3/6 top-grade embryos – 50%
1/3 implanted – 33%

This cycle’s stats:
12 eggs total
6/12 mature – 50%
4/6 fertilized – 66%
3/4 top-grade embryos – 75%

The 50% maturity rate and 75% top-grade is absolutely amazing!

Now last stims cycle yielded 1 implantation out of 3 embryos transferred. I now have 3 embryos to transfer again. There should be a pregnancy out of this somewhere!