Hi everyone,
It’s been a while since I’ve written, but here I am! A lot has happened between my hysteroscopy #4, and transfer. So, let’s start with that.
My hysteroscopy this time around went really well! Everything looked great and I had no polyps, or left over placenta like I did with Isaiah.
One thing I really appreciated was the nurses and OR staff finally let my husband come up to recover with me (thank you Covid vaccine)! He finally got to see where all of the action happens (not to mention my little curtain room where I recover, and my very attractive OR gown and hairnet).
Waking up, all I remember asking was “Where’s my husband?”, because that’s what I was most looking forward to—seeing him there and him being there with me. I know it meant a lot to him to finally be able to come up, but I could tell he was kind of shook when he saw me all connected to wires, the IV, and heart monitor recovering from anesthesia and surgery. Normally, he has to wait in the parking lot with all of the other husbands and partners waiting for their other half to recover. But not this time—it was a nice change.
After asking where he was, I blinked and he was there (thanks anesthesia!). Everything moved so quickly and so slowly at the same time. I didn't bleed as much as last time, and recovery went a lot smoother than my previous hysteroscopies.
As time went on, and the waiting continued, we had a bit of a hiccup.
Everything looked great until my second lining check. Now, with my other previous transfers, my lining has never been an issue. It has always grown to the right thickness, at the right time, and my ovaries were small and calm.
But at my second lining check, something happened—it shrunk.
Yup, “shrunk”.
That was on a Thursday, and my transfer would have been that coming Wednesday.
So with that, my doctor wanted me to come in on Monday to recheck.
That weekend was hell. Wondering everyday if our cycle was going to get pushed back further, add more meds, or even worse, get canceled. What if everything I have been working towards just stops? How does one handle that? Another $1500 lupron depot shot down the drain? Over 30 injections of lovenox alone down the drain? Anything could happen at this point. Monday came, and sure enough, my lining was fine. I asked him why it “shrunk”, and he said, sometimes the ultrasound probe (aka Wanda) can push the uterine lining and almost squish it to make it appear smaller than it actually is.
My mouth dropped.
Just because a nurse screwed up my ultrasound, I had to wait four long, agonizing days. I know that sounds dramatic, but if you’ve been what I’ve been through, are an IVF warrior, or in the middle of a cycle, you’d understand. #iykyk amirite?
One persons mistake. Can change everything. Can change a persons life—literally.
I told myself I couldn't change what had happened. And that’s true. So, I set a new countdown to our new transfer day.
The day finally came. Transfer day. Third times a charm, right? Luck or not, I had my rock with me this time—my husband. After worshiping in the car, and praying for our transfer and embryo, we called to do our Covid screening, took one last gulp of water for my full bladder, and we headed up to our IVF clinic. From there, they took our temperatures, and led us back into the OR side of the clinic. We were placed in curtain room #7. The nurse gave us our OR gowns, one for me and one for K, as well as booties and hairnets. I changed first, and then K put his gown on like a jacket—laughing I helped him put it on correctly. I’m a professional by this point, right? The nurse took my blood, and gave me Valium (a muscle relaxer) and some ibprophen for cramping, and soon we were walking back to the OR transfer room. It was dark, with the bright OR light just in front of the stirrups. One thing that was different, was there was a chair right by my head for K to sit and hold my hand. It made me smile seeing that chair that wasn’t there before.
The nurse assisted me up on the stirrups. At this point, the Valium really started to kick in. My legs and body felt super heavy, and so relaxed. I don’t remember feeling like this with my previous transfers, but it was nice to relax my excited-nerves!
She checked my bladder on the ultrasound to see if it was full enough for transfer. They have to push pretty hard on the bladder to see it properly, and when it’s full, it’s super uncomfortable! She noticed my stomach with all of the bruises, and said sorry, and I replied “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Our doctor came in and went over what he was going to do.
We then got a picture of our embaby. I was kind of shocked when I first saw it—it wasn’t as round as Isaiah or baby girl—the embryologist told me that the embryo looked like that because it was closer to hatching and thawed really well. The embryologist reassured me that it looked like a perfectly healthy embryo.
The doctor inserted the speculum to open my cervix (super uncomfortable, and stung some). Then the embryologist showed our little embaby on the screen to our right. It was so tiny! The picture they gave us was zoomed like 100x to see the detail, but on the screen it looked like a spec of sand!
The embryologist sucked up our little embaby from the Petri dish and brought it to a petrified by the doctor into the room to be transferred. They confirmed my name and social security number, and the doctor sucked up the embaby up a catheter and inserted it into my uterus. While he did so, the nurse did an abdominal ultrasound on me so we could see the catheter and the embaby being transferred into my uterine lining.
And then, it was over!
Just like that. Everything we have been waiting for and working towards—done!
I emptied my bladder, and laid back down in curtain room #7. After a transfer, they like you to lay down flat for 30 minutes to relax your body. I held our little embaby picture close to my heart, praying, and my husbands in the other, as he watched me doze off to sleep.
baby dust,
s.
Comments