Bowling, Anyone?

Picture it ... you're enjoying a night out of bowling with friends. Maybe you've had a few beers, you're having a great time. Maybe it's even one of those cool Disco-Lanes flashing neon kind of bowling allys.

Slow motion: Your friend winds up for his big strike ... arm back and fully extended ... swings forward with bowling ball in hand ... and somehow it slips. The 12 pound ball flys through the air, and somehow connects squarely with your belly.

That's about how I felt all yesterday afternoon, curled in my bed in the fetal position, making love to my heating pad.

But all in all, the egg retrieval wasn't that bad.

We arrived at 8:15 yesterday morning, and after the requisite questions and answers from the nurses, the paperwork, and the pep talks back and forth between J & I, then I met my new best friend: Frank, the anesthesiologist.

A wonderful, father-like man, he put my fears at ease. The IV was in the crook of my left arm, and it was probably the most painful injection-type procedure I've ever had, but it wasn't that awful! He then gave me a "sample" dose of the meds to make sure I would react okay to them, which I did. Kind of like a glass of wine. A happy feeling. He told me that I wouldn't be receiving general anesthesia, but a "concious sedation" and that I'd be pretty out of it.

Dr. Pleasant came in and went over the basics of the procedure with us. Then Frank returned and gave me the big dose of drugs. I was determined to use the breathing exersises I'd been practicing to calm me. Breathe in -2-3-4-5 Breathe out -2-3-4-5. Yea right.

I started crying a little bit as they wheeled me out of my room down the hall. I remember entering the procedure room, and that is was more "sterile" feeling, but nothing like an operating room. I was shocked when they attached the big, blue stirrips to the table. I had been under the impression they'd be using the regular ones like in the exam room, but no ma'am, these were the big huge labor & delivery ones. Spread eagle. Big time. Thank goodness one of the nurses draped a small sheet over me, just for the time before the procedure.

I remember scooting down on the table, too far, not enough, back, forward. I remember making a concious effort to not look around the room for fear of seeing the needle that I dreaded so much. I never even saw my doctor. Boom. I was out like a light.

Someone shook my shoulder, repeating my name. "Okay," I said. "I'm ready, let's get started."

J. laughed at me, as I looked around and saw we were back in the recovery room. Frank walked in to check and see how I was doing, and I promptly told him how much I loved him. Bless you, Frank.

Nine.

Nine mature eggs. We'd seen twelve on the ultrasound last Saturday. I was kind of disappointed, but it fell into the 5-15 range that Dr. Pleasant was hoping for.

I spent the afternoon and evening in bed, laying on my side, which is the only position that was really comfortable. Oh, yea, the little white pills helped too.

***

UPDATE:

I just spoke to Dr. Pleasant. Six eggs fertilized. Only six. "Six is a tricky number," he says. Typically, this is when they'd freeze any extra embryos. But with six, they don't want to do that now, just in case the rest don't make it.

Thursday morning, we'll transfer two or three, depending on how they look. And if there are any left, they'll be frozen.