Let’s Break (It) Down

  • I did my trigger shot Tuesday evening on 11/1.
  • Thursday, on 11/3 was my egg retrieval.
  • Roughly 36 hours after the retrieval, Friday, 11/4, I got the call at work from my doctor. 

Now I’m going to break it all down. 

Thursday morning we arrived for my egg retrieval. Despite being completely nervous about the anesthesia I was feeling alright. We were taken back into the surgical area where they had me change, and informed me about the anesthesia. Top picture is of my IV of saline. Interestingly enough or, if you’ve been following my blog, this won’t surprise you: they had an extremely difficult time finding a vein they could work with. 


Below was my view,  prior to the retrieval. It was ominous. I watched the woman before me who was also having a retrieval walk in. I also saw her on the recovery side. 

The one thing I don’t understand? No makeup, no nailpolish, no hair scrungies (as they called them) are allowed. But yet I walked in that day IN these socks…had the procedure with them on…and left with the socks never being removed. Logic? None as far as I’m concerned. And that, is my lovely hair net thing. Yuck. 


The doctor then came over to introduce himself. (I knew it wouldn’t be my doctor performing the procedure, which I was perfectly fine with. We were informed of all of these factors at our initial consultation.) Until he spoke to us, time truly felt as though it was standing still. He was calm. Soft spoken. Shook our hands. Started talking about what he was hoping would happen,”I should be able to get 4-6 eggs today. So well hope for the 6. I’ll see you back there.” 
…I broke…
Sunday I was told there were 8 follicles. HOW WAS HE ONLY PLANNING ON 4-6?! I looked at DH and in a completely unflustered voice said, “this isn’t going to work. This is a loss. I can tell this isn’t going to work.” Tears slowly started welling in my eyes. Immediately I chastised myself about crying, took a deep breath, and was overcome with coldness. 
Rigidly sitting there in my chair, my fingers kept frantically edging their way around the hair cap or whatever it is called. Less than 20minutes later, the nurse came over. I was up. I’ll spare the details of walking in, the conversations once in the OR, and my other memories. Fast forward, well I don’t know how long exactly…and I’m in recovery. 
I felt good. Surprisingly good to be quite truthful. The nurse checked to see if there was any bleeding, none; and then asked if I wanted something to eat and drink. My choice was that of a five year old, animal crackers and apple juice. Listen, we were stopping at Starbucks afterwards, so I wasn’t going to fill up on crappy coffee or a bad pastry. As I was sitting there, I could overhear the nurse telling prior egg retrieval patient how well her procedure went, and the medication outline for the next few days. She then popped into my curtained area and asked if I wanted her to get DH. Yes, obviously. Minutes later he was sitting beside me asking how I felt. 

She seemed to reappear shortly thereafter, and indicated that the doctor was going to come over to speak to us. I looked at DH and said, “this is bad. This is very bad. Something is wrong.” From the split second she uttered those words, it was like I was having an out of body experience. The soft spoken and calm doctor was back. “How are you feeling?” he asked. “Ok.” I responded. “I’m afraid things didn’t go as we were planning.” Cue my usual direct and questioning attitude floating away. With that my fiery temper also seemed to instantly disappear. “Unfortunately, we were only able to get one egg. I was planning on 4-6 but it just didn’t happen. I’m so sorry. Also, one of the follicles that was measuring on the left, was not a follicle, it’s a cyst. I don’t know who was doing your ultrasounds or what your doctor was looking at, but this definitely shouldn’t have gone undetected. You need to follow up with your doctor about that. Again, I’m so sorry that things didn’t go the way you or I was planning.”
I really want to say the world stopped spinning, but it didn’t; it fell out from underneath me. I was white hot with unparalleled rage. HOW was there only one? WHAT were they counting? WHO told me there were 8? HOW was this cyst missed? HIS coworker is my doctor, and he was surprised she missed this? WHAT the actual fuck? WHO do I trust, him or my doctor? And my last thought, “I knew from the beginning this wouldn’t work.” This time no tears formed. I was borderline psychotic and completely paralyzed with shock, and immediately launched myself into the statistics. After a few minutes of mental calculations, I knew this round was over. I wouldn’t need the follow up call the next day, there was truly no need for it to take place as there wouldn’t be any good news. We finally we able to leave. I got in the truck, tried to fall asleep, and immediately started sobbing. Here’s a visual for you, I looked like a St. Bernard covered in slobber. I called my mom. I called my MIL, and texted those that knew what was going on. Everyone said the same thing “it only takes one.” After a few explanations that we were already at a negative starting point, all I wanted to do was sleep and forget this entire experience. Upon arriving home I did sleep after watching two hours of TV. Physically I felt alright, just a heaviness like pre-period cramps, but was exhausted. 
Well…that one didn’t take per the phone call Friday afternoon with my doctor. So for the sake of my sanity, please never say that to me again. Was I surprised absolutely not. Did I cry? Nope. Did I want to punch a wall? Certainly. The call sucked, the rest of my day sucked, and that entire weekend sucked. I don’t think I cried anymore after Friday evening and talking with DH. 
Until Saturday, 11/12 when I sat down to write this blog. I completely crumbled into a billion little pieces. I’ll get into that another time. 

Here’s really what I’d like to say…

A massive fuck you to my first doctor. The doctor that told me in the beginning of 2016 that we had a 95% chance of being pregnant by the end of the year. Thank you for etching that into my brain. Thank you for constantly making me feel like a failure and a huge disappointment to myself, my husband, and my family. You have demolished every ounce of faint hope that I ever possessed in this year. I was convinced after leaving your office that day I’d be pregnant for my birthday, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Those were milestones I anticipated despite knowing there was a chance it wouldn’t happen. Well, now those times start a week from today, and I blame you for my misery, sadness, and the facade of happiness I have to display. FUCK YOU for making bold and brash statements that I allowed my sanity to cling to, and now I sit here with barely a shred left. 



That’s not a word. It’s the noise I make in my head after a long day, a frustrating day, or on one of those days where I just don’t want to say much of anything…or when I’m full of ramblings. 

Lucky you, today is one of those days. 

I will ramble because yesterday was hard. Mentally, I would say that it was  almost crushing. There was a baby shower yesterday that I didn’t go to, but was firmly cemented in my mind, and it was Children’s Day. Thank you, Facebook for that fun fact, it’s one that I absolutely could have lived with out. There are some days where things go unbelievably well, and I have a wonderful day, like Saturday; which is followed by a day where I wish I could just scream all day long. Pause for a good sob session, and then start screaming again. 

YES…we want to have a baby.
YES…we are trying to have a baby.

YES…we want a family, preferably of 4, but 3 is proving to be challenging enough. 
Given that we’ve literally done nothing this month, because of incorrect timing, I feel like a sitting duck. We just wait, and wait, and wait for my period to come and then the roller coaster starts again. I never would have anticipated feeling helpless even when there’s nothing I am supposed to be doing. Truly, where’s the rationale there? 
Yes, I loved my spontaneous day away Saturday with my mom, and I know that when we have a child, I won’t always be able to pick up and take off for the day. I do know, that when we have a child, I will go out of my way to plan those days with my mom so that we can bring the baby/child along with us. Most people will think that I’m crazy, but I want my child to spend time with us, seeing what we love to do, and being part of those special days. 

There is no certainty in any of this. There don’t seem to be any answers. There is not a definitive amount of time that we will have to endure the medical treatments.

 It’s all a big fat “what if” followed by “When?” 

All I want is certainty. I want an absolute. I do not ever want to sit down and participate in that conversation in the above image. I want a yes or no answer to my question, “will I have a child?” Because if the answer is no, I’d rather figure out a way to start wrapping my head around that now, and not prolonging the inevitable crushing disappointment. Should the answer be a definitive yes, I will keep fastening that safety belt across my lap, and pulling the overhead harness down to ride that roller coaster. 

Raise A Glass

Or in my case, the bottle of wine I’m drinking this evening. Tonight’s lucky winner? Not my uterus! But a bottle of Oyster Bay Sauvignon Blanc. With a Bendy straw. 

After the week I’ve had, with the optimism that was provided on both Tuesday and Wednesday, to only come crashing down around me on Thursday morning I figure, there’s no time like the present to indulge in some Vino. As well as french fries and a barbecue chicken pizza. Yes, there’s the slightest chance in hell that I might be pregnant from intercourse; however let’s review our record for pregnancies. Then again, if we were reviewing our pregnancies you wouldn’t be sitting here reading this blog. 

However on a night like tonight where I’m basically ready to crumble… Scratch that. OK. …truth be told, I already did. At my brothers place…it was uncomfortable, not the breaking down proponent, but putting it on him. God bless him: he’s patient, empathetic, and can truly understand how emotionally taxing this is on me.

So getting back to my point…tonight, this is what I’m thankful for…

  1. My husband. 
  2. My amazing group of coworkers that are coming over tomorrow night for girls night. *We’re kind of an exclusively assembled club…and we don’t necessarily play well with others! 
  3. My family, that allows me to go ballistic and then let’s me cry, and still wants to have Sunday dinner at our place. 
  4. And tonight…The wine!!!