Well, here we go. Another milestone in Mission: Baby Impossible. We’ve begun our IVF protocol. It’s hard to believe we’re here. I don’t really know how I feel. I’m excited to get things going, but guarded. I think I’m protecting myself — preparing myself, for failure. It’s just how things have gone for us on this journey. Failure, after failure, after failure. But there is a part of me that is unconsciously hopeful. I caught myself the other day with an automatic “I can’t because I’ll be pregnant” thought. I haven’t had one of those in a very long time. I was looking into a get-away weekend with a girlfriend and one of the places had a hot tub. I thought “hey that would be cool” but it was automatically followed by “but you won’t be able to use it because you’ll be pregnant”. Maybe my unconscious knows something I don’t. My logical self was also planning the weekend around the IVF stuff — do I want to be on a fun weekend only days after reeling from IVF failure? Do I want to be away bleeding my soul out on someone else’s linens??
So, for those of you not familiar with IVF, we’re doing what’s called a “long protocol”. It’s the method our clinic uses because they have to use another clinic for the actual procedure, so they want the ultimate control over your cycle so they can exactly select the day for retrieval/transfer. I start with birth control. Weird, right? Today is my third day. The birth control prevents ovulation, because they believe that the body pre-selects an egg each cycle and even when over-stimulated, that egg may be dominate. They use the birth control to stop this from happening. I will take the birth control until September 20.
I’ll begin Synarel, which is a nasal spray on September 16. This works on some chemicals (forgive me, I haven’t memorized the info package yet) to basically put me into menopause (oh joy). On October 1st, I get to start jabbing myself daily with Bravelle and Repronex. These drugs will hopefully stimulate me to make 10-20 eggs. October 13 is retrieval day. Big needle goes up the va-jay-jay, into my poor swollen ovaries and sucks out the eggs. My husband gets to do his big job (am I bitter much?) and then they will help spermy meet eggy (isn’t there a movie by that name?) by using a procedure called ICSI. Basically they take the sperm and force it to fertilize the egg. (So much for “not tonight honey, I have a headache…”) Hopefully, we get some embryos to put back on October 16. By Hallowe’en I’ll either be joyfully handing out candy to adorable little goblins or holed up in my basement drinking mass quantities of merlot…. all depends on how things go.
So that’s my life in a nutshell for the next two months.
Oh! I almost forgot, while I wait to be elated or devastated, I get to insert progestrone into the aforementioned and tortured va-jay-jay for two weeks while I wait to see how I’ll spend Hallowe’en.
I’d like to issue an apology in advance to all those who might fall victim to any hormone related bitchiness (or organic bitchiness for that matter). Take the apology now, because I might not offer one while I’m biting off your head.
Do you think I could get a t-shirt made? Maybe a hat? “Apologies for your bitten-off head, I’m pumped full of drugs and afraid I’ve just set fire to several thousands of dollars”.
I bet you I could sell it. Maybe make back some of those thousands….