Putting the F in FET

Oh hi. Yup. It’s me. FINALLY updating whoever is out there on how Friday went. Let’s have a play by play, shall we?

I couldn’t help but compare this FET to the one I had in 2008. In both cases I stressed about who would take care of my number one responsibility while I was up in the stirrups. In 2008 Mom took off work to watch Millie so that I could travel to the Northeast and try for magic. Last friday my good friend A saved the day by stepping in to watch W so that Mom could take me to the clinic for magic part II.

In 2008 my friend M took me to the clinic and waited in the lobby with toe tapping husbands while 2 embryos were transferred into me by a doctor that could not pronounce my name. Last friday Mom suited up and joined me in the transfer room. The doctor’s assistant was zany and the embryologist not only pronounced my name perfectly she also grew up just down the road from where I live now.

In 2008 I showed up early to my appointment, didn’t have a full enough bladder for the transfer (oh yes, they want a full bladder as the weight of it presses down on internal lady town making things easier to see from an ultra sound perspective), and I had to chug cup after cup of water. Then I waited in the room for the doctor to come back and I was in so much pain from the full bladder that I was shaking.

Last friday I arrived on time with an appropriately full bladder and the doctor was running behind. I distracted myself by reading about how The Bloggess inseminated a cow in high school but after 1 million minutes (give or take) I had to bolt for the bathroom. The doctor’s assistant was NOT very pleased with me. I tried to explain that I was special and probably didn’t NEED a full bladder. (I was told during my saline sono that having a full bladder did nothing to help the ultrasound view of things because my uterus was now in Cleveland.)

The embryologist came in with a photo of the embryos. I looked at the little blobs with awe and wonder and didn’t hear a single word the embryologist said. I can tell you now that they were 2 eight-cells.

Eons later the doctor came in and the lights were dimmed and I was flipped back on the table, head pointing south, and I focused on not projectile peeing at everyone. The ultrasound tech squirted gel on my belly and pressed the wand into the goop. She then proclaimed that I should, “empty out two cups of urine.” They mean this literally by the way. I was shuffled down the hall, skated really in my blue paper foot booties, and on the back of the toilet were towers of styrofoam cups. I was told I cold pee out exactly 2 of those cups but NO MORE.

Who said trying to make a baby wasn’t glamorous?!

I emptied out two cups and change (shhh. don’t tell) and skated back to the transfer room. I put my legs back in the stirrups (really it was more of a thigh stirrup chair contraption) and weeeee! flipped backwards again so that my downstairs was now upstairs. I clenched Mom’s hands and the doctor began to thread through the highway of my stuff. I had no idea that having a c-section could rearrange things so much in a gal but I heard, literally, every time I was at the clinic that things were NOT where nature had originally placed them. And because I am me I always, for whatever reason, apologized.

So as the doctor threaded, and threaded, and threaded a catheter in me I heard the familiar sigh signifying, “oh for fuck’s sake, WHERE IS YOUR UTERUS, WOMAN?!!” And then, there it was. The ultrasound tech tilted the monitor ever so slightly and Mom and I watched as the embryos moved in. The doctor patted my leg and pulled out the 10 miles of tubing and I was repositioned on the table and told, “we’ll come back for you when you can move.”

There was silence in the dark room and I began to sob. Gulping emotional tears over the enormity of what had just happened, what was, hopefully, ABOUT to happen. I was so thankful to have mom with me experiencing it all.

The time in the room zoomed by and I was led out and allowed to pee. And yes, I do realize that so much of this is about peeing, but it’s kind of a big deal. There is then also that moment on the throne where gallons of pee are coming out and you have that panic moment of, “Oh fuck I hope those embryos aren’t floating away…”

I was on rest for the rest of friday (I’m a total light weight on vicodin) and Saturday and Sunday I was on rest as well. Having 100 yards of catheter in you can make things ouchy. I have been cramping since friday night.

Tomorrow I go back to the clinic in the morning for blood work and ultrasound and a lupron booster shot. I have never heard of this before, which makes sense as the clinic has only been doing it for FET’s for a few months. Hopefully my progesterone and estrogen levels are doing ok. I know I had problems with lower than hoped for progesterone numbers in the past…what? ME? Anxious? ha

W has been moderately interested in what is going on. He is mostly annoyed that I am not picking him up and carrying him. Very rude of me. I told him that a doctor is trying to help us grow our family. I showed him the photo of the embryos and explained, “these are the seeds that they planted in me”. I always have to pause to catch my emotions before I continue with, “they are like the seeds that you started from.” We then talk about what kind of baby should grow from the seed – a boy or a girl. This weekend W has decided that he is going to have a sister and he wishes to name her Monster Truck.

In my mind I hear, “keep on truckin” and I see vibrant illustrations from Robert Crumb. Get ready for some thumb twiddling and clock watching over here.

2dp3dt and counting…