So, I decided to wait until I had real news, and boy do I! I
can happily report that this round of IVF is going much better than the last.
We took a different approach this time, using a Lupron Microdose Protocol. Now, I have to admit that it did not start off smoothly – on the first
day I gave myself ten times the proper dosage of the Lupron. Not entirely my
fault, really. The training video used a different syringe than the pharmacy
gave me, and filled the syringe kind of a lot. So, when I had to take “5
units,” I filled it to the number 5 on the syringe. But, then I started to
wonder how I would have enough to last me through the whole cycle because all I
had was a 2 ML vial. I emailed Dr. K (who thankfully checks email at 9:30 at
night!), and he said that 5 units is a tiny amount. That’s when I realized that
the 5 on the syringe was a .5, and represented 1/2 ML. Yeah, oops. Fortunately, Dr. K. didn’t think
one overdose would have a significant impact, and I did the proper dosage from
then on. I did actually miss the very last dose because I ran out of the meds,
but I chose to forego a refill given that I had just spent $359 refilling my
Menopur because I was short for the last dose (and that was with the
prescription assistance!).
At any rate, it all worked out because they were able to
retrieve five eggs, which is more than double what I got the last time (2). From that we got four embryos. It’s
low for anyone else, but as good or better than could be expected for me. Then,
of course, began the five-day wait to see how many embryos would make it to the
finish line. They were tough days because I was worried that none would make
it. I knew my chances were four times better than the last time but, having
already suffered disappointment, I didn’t want to get my hopes up.
Tuesday morning was stressful. I went to school in the
morning and tried to be focused. Lord knows what my students are thinking right
now because I know I’ve been distracted – and I had to cancel that class the
previous Thursday for the Egg Retrieval. Anyway, I was stressed all morning
and, sure enough, the call from Dr. K’s office came when I was in the subway,
so I had to get the news via voicemail. But it was good news! The four embryos
had all made it. And now I was in a position I never expected to be in –
deciding how many to transfer from the embarrassment of riches.
This, of course, is where the gamble comes in. A lot of
factors go into selecting the number of embryos to transfer. First, embryos are
graded (A, B, C, like school). The better the embryo, the better chance it will
implant. So, if you have A-quality embryos, they’ll often suggest only
transferring one. My best was probably around a C+, so that meant they would
transfer more than one, unless I specifically requested only one. Age is the
next factor – the older the mom, the more embryos they transfer because it’s
harder for older moms to get pregnant. So, you want to give yourself the best
possible chance.
Then there’s the ethics. The American Society for
Reproductive Medicine (ASRM), has strict guidelines about how many
embryos to transfer, in order to reduce the risk of multiples (don’t know who
treated Octomom, but they should have their license revoked!). For my age,
transferring 1-2 embryos is recommended. Over the age of 40, transferring 2-3
embryos is recommended. But, Dr. K. and I discussed the fact that, given how
hard it was for me to get to this point, and given the lower quality of the
embryos, transferring three would not be unreasonable. He said that the chance
of triplets was low, but it definitely increases my chances of twins, which is
automatically a high-risk pregnancy anyway.
As we discussed it, I felt myself leaning toward three, but
I knew this was a big gamble. He, of course, left it up to me (just once I wish
a doctor would just say, “Do this.”). I called Keith and we discussed it, and
he leaned toward three too. Having that discussion helped because it made me
feel a little more comfortable that I wasn’t completely insane. And then, when
I arrived at RMA, the doctor performing the procedure also agreed that, in my
circumstances, three would probably be the best way to go (no one was thinking
four, I assure you – the doctors felt it would be irresponsible, and I agreed).
So, on Tuesday afternoon, I went in to get my babies! The
procedure went smoothly, but it was not pain-free. I’ve always had issues with
the speculum, and they can’t really use a small one and still get the catheter
in properly for transfer. So, it hurt, and they tore the tissue a little, but
on the bright side, they got perfect positioning of the catheter for transfer
on the first try.
The process itself was fascinating. Admittedly, some of what
they showed me was to distract me from the pain, but some was also part of the
protocol to make sure they had the rights embryos, etc. While the doctor was
poking and prodding me painfully “down there,” I got to watch on the monitor as
the Embryologist in the other room showed me the embryos and sucked them up into
the syringe that they would use to transfer them through the catheter. Of
course embryos are microscopic, but they blow up the photo so much that they
looked huge. It was kind of cool to see my embryos gathered there, waiting.
They then talked me through the transfer, and I listened to the conversation
between the two doctors, and was glad that seemed pleased with how it went.
They even gave me a picture to take home – I’m hoping I can call it the first
baby picture!
Afterword, the pain levels were fine. A tiny bit of
bleeding, but nothing major. Dr. K. called later, to apologize, saying he
should have offered me valium in advance. But we had talked about that in the
past, and I didn’t want to do that. Plus, it would have meant having to have
someone with me again, and I don’t like to impose on people if it’s not
necessary. Keith was great about being there on Retrieval Day, but his work
schedule is nuts (he actually had to pick me up while on a conference call and
then had to work until 10:30 that night). I didn’t want to put that on him
again. Yes, it was a painful few minutes, but then it was over. And on to
recovery.
It’s funny, because when you read about people going through
IVF, they talk about lying with their legs up over their heads in recovery for
an hour, choosing whether or not to use the bedpan to relieve their bladder
(more on that in a sec), and then going on anywhere from 24 hours to a week’s
worth of bedrest. My doctors do things a little differently, I guess, and they
aren’t nearly as conservative as some (they even allow moderate caffeine – Yay,
Coke!). Which is good when you’re on your own and can’t afford to take a week’s
worth of bedrest! I almost laughed when they transferred me to the gurney to go
to recovery and lifted the headrest, rather than the feet. Some women on those
communities and message board would be appalled! (BTW – there will be a future
post about the evils of forums!). But the folks at RMA are a little more
progressive, I guess. They don’t think gravity plays quite such a big role in
things once everything is up there all right and tight. They also don’t believe
in bedrest, although they do encourage taking it easy for a few days. The jury
does seem to be out on the whole bedrest thing. Like I said, some doctors seem
to prescribe up to a week of it, while others (like mine) don’t require it at
all. Still others (some study in Egypt) seem to feel bedrest might be
harmful because it restricts bloodflow.
I compromised by taking a cab home (after walking to Duane Reed for some
baby aspirin), and staying in for the rest of the day. I stayed in the next day
too, as it was a snow and ice extravaganza (typical of this winter). School was
canceled and I didn’t even take the dogs for a walk (thank you, Potty Patch!) because I didn’t want to slip and fall less than 24-hours after the
transfer. But, yesterday, it was back to work as usual. Gotta live life, right?
Oh, I did promise to address the bladder thing, so let’s do
that before moving on to post-transfer symptoms and emotional Citibank
commercials. For the transfer, you need to have a full bladder, because they
use abdominal ultrasound to get an accurate picture of the uterus to insert the
catheter. Me and full bladder just don’t mix. I can go from 0 to geyser in a
millisecond (it is, in part, medical, as my bladder doesn’t expand like other
people’s and thus fills faster). And, a lot of the complaints you see from
women online is the struggle not to have an accident while having the
procedure. And there’s all kinds of
advice to use the bedpan if offered afterward so you don’t suffer while lying
down for the required amount of time. After all, what’s the point of being shy
when these people have been looking up your hoo-ha for weeks? So, I tried to plan
properly, drinking what I felt was just enough to fill the bladder but not feel
uncomfortable. Given that I usually am bursting after an hour and fifteen
minute class (even if I went before class), I was still worried about the
discomfort.
Then I started worrying about something else – what if my
bladder isn’t full enough? Because, of course, I didn’t feel like I needed to
go by the time the procedure started. Well, turns out the fates were on my side
in that respect – the doctor said the bladder was perfectly full and they got a
great picture. They were pressing pretty hard, but that still didn’t make me
need to go. In fact, even after the lying down part, I didn’t need to go that
badly. I could have gone back to the locker room, changed and then gone. VERY
unusual for me. Go figure. Of course, I’m still pretty convinced that my baby
will settle in on my bladder for nine months!
As for post-transfer symptoms, I did have one scare. Tuesday
night, I awoke in the middle of the night with intense abdominal pain near the
area of the right ovary. It lasted for about ten minutes, and I could barely
move – couldn’t even get out of bed to go to the bathroom. Then it went away,
and everything seemed fine. I emailed Dr. K on Wednesday, and he said it was
probably a cyst rupturing, and nothing to worry about. Which was good to hear,
because I was already worrying that the process had failed almost before it
even had a chance to start! Yeah, I
know. Gotta stop doing that.
Other than that, I haven’t had much in the way of side
effects. A little pain here or there, but nothing of note. I’m making a
concentrated effort not to read anything in to that. Pain, no pain. Who knows
what’s a “sign” that it’s working? Now, that said, the hormones and steroids
are having a little bit of an effect. I just finished the Medrol, but I am
still doing daily Progesterone in Oil injections (into the bum – fun!). I can
definitely say there are some mood swings. Fortunately, there’s been no moments
of rage, although I’m less than patient these days (not that I was all that
patient before, I guess). But, I do go from low to up kind of quickly. And Wednesday,
while watching the Olympics, I got all weepy over a Citibank commercial where
Evan Lysacek is working with skaters from Figure Skating in Harlem, and talking about them being future Olympians. I sat there, like, “Oh,
it’s just so beautiful that a little girl from Harlem could dream of being in
the Olympics because of support from people like Evan!” Now, I would probably find
that commercial a bit touching anyway because I’m overly empathetic. But, I
caught myself when I started crying and went, “Whoa, girl – that’s the hormones
talking!”
I’m OK with that though, because hopefully it means the
hormones are doing their job. Thursday I had bloodwork to check the levels and
the Progesterone was at 15. The nurse said, “That’s good, but we want to up the
dose.” The tone of the “that’s good” suggested that it was more of a “that’s
not bad, but we need to get it higher.” Again, trying not to read too much into
it. But, let’s face it, this is me we’re talking about. I read into everything.
Deep breaths and one more week. On Thursday the 13th, I go in for the pregnancy test. It’s gonna be a loooong week!
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