Retrieval

I "woke up" the morning of retrieval exhausted.  I quote "woke up" because I got like zero sleep.  I was running through every possible scenario in my head.  Maybe I ovulated early...the doctor did say I had a very good response to the trigger shot.  Maybe this possible itch (you know what I mean, ladies) will cause the whole thing to be canceled.  What if the anesthesia doesn't work (it's always a fear, don't judge)?  Just GO!

So I suck it up and arrive at the center at 630am,with the hope that a juicebox is in my near future.  The OR nurse was quite possibly the sweetest nurse on the face of the earth.  She didn't think I was crazy when I started to cry, she was kind enough to go through of the procedure with me, and most importantly, it didn't hurt when she put the IV in.  And she let me take a vicodin before going into the OR.  Who could ask for more? 

Husband came in next and we talk with the anesthesiologist, who is all of 12 years old.  And kinda cute, but let's save that for later.  He was nice and was completely willing to knock me out.  My kind of guy.   Then of all sudden, we're off, it's time to get this show on the road.  I walk into a cold room with a table and like five people.  This is where things start to get fuzzy.  Dr. Cutie gave me some drugs to relax me since I was on the verge of a panic attack and I did the following:

• Asked if he was married
• Told him he was hot
• Apologized for flashing the nurse on our first date

Classy, Beth.  So classy.  Apparently during the procedure, I asked what time it was, but I have no memory of it.  I said I didn't want to remember anything and I'll be damned if those drugs didn't work.  I hung out for an hour, got my juicebox, and came home.  My poor ovaries were so angry, and I'm still a little sore, but things are getting better each day.  I'm still under orders for lots of rest and relaxation, no heavy lifting, that sort of thing.  And just fyi, progesterone shots suck.  If you're not in the know, you better ice your ass beforehand because that is a big frickin needle. 

They were able to retrieve 11 eggs and we now have six, snuggly embryos in a petri dish well on their way to the blastocyst stage.  At first I was disappointed at..six?  Only six?  I thought my eggs must suck, but I was in a little bit of shock when the nurse told me so I didn't ask.  She called the next day to say we were going to move transfer to Monday, day five, and reminded me that the most important thing is that the little Weezys are healthy and we still have a lot of chances. She's right, but I wanted like 20 eggs, with 15 embryos. I had it all planned out in my head, but you know what they say about plans.  Turns out my eggs don't suck, only two of them did and the lab decided not to use them.  Two of the regularly fertilized embryos started to grow, but sort of crapped out.  A single lucky one made it, the rest were all fertilized with ICSI.  

Tomorrow is transfer day and we would appreciate good thoughts and vibes.  Maybe even prayers, if you're into that sort of thing. 

Husband took this lovely picture right before I went in...and promptly put it on face.book.  Ugg.  Ignore the fat face, I blame IVF drugs.

Did someone say good drugs?