16 May 2011

The Process, Part 2

I love LaRosa’s, Cincinnati’s best pizza. I confirmed that about 8 years ago when I spent a week with Wendy and Mike just before the procedure that would take 7 of my big, strong, hopefully-gonna-make-a-baby eggs.

Eating pizza was one of the many things we did that week that seemed … wrong. I was there because after weeks and weeks of shots and pills and careful monitoring, the time had come for my eggs to be harvested. Because Toledo was so far from Cincinnati and because the timing of in-vitro fertilization is so crucial, once the specialist up here decided I was close, I was stuck in Cincinnati. But I didn’t feel stuck. It was an awesome week. It just seemed so … weird. I was there on business! I shouldn’t’ve been doing crafts with Wendy in her basement until all hours of the night. Or eating Graeter’s ice cream. Or walking through Hobby Lobby. Or painting ceramics. Ceramics! Where was my head?! It all seemed surreal.

I can’t fully explain how strange that week felt. There were daily trips to the doctor’s office to check the status of things, but other than that, we were free to party it up – in a non-alcoholic, calm way. We were truly on someone else’s schedule. If things looked ready during Monday’s appointment, the procedure would be Tuesday. If things looked ready Tuesday, the procedure would be Wednesday. Because we couldn’t make plans, we played things by ear. That’s really hard for me to do, so I’m glad we had so much stuff to keep us occupied. It was just odd, knowing that one day I was laying on Wendy’s couch, being treated like a queen I might add, and the next I could be taking part in the most serious medical procedure I’d ever experienced.

This is where some people’s religious and medical qualms come in. Some people believe that Wendy and I and the doctors were playing God. Or messing with His plan. I’m not sure how I feel about that. It can be a pretty deep discussion. I do believe that what we did wasn’t the most natural of things, but I don’t believe that means it was wrong. Perhaps this was still God’s plan. After all, couldn’t He be responsible for the technology that we were using?

Those thoughts never crossed my mind before the procedure. Or if they did, I didn’t acknowledge them. I brushed them off without a second thought. The one thing I did think about was going under. I’d never been knocked out and was nervous about that. I’m not gonna lie. The valium they gave me to help me relax was nice (really niiiiice), but I was still nervous. I’m glad Wendy and Mike were there with me, holding my hands.

I don’t know if it was the fear of going under or the craziness of the week or the culmination of the weeks prior, but it was at this point that I dropped the ball. Big time. At the daily appointment, we were told things were a go. All that was left was for me to take a pill. The extraction would be the next morning. Guess what I forgot to do? Take the pill. The pill that would release my eggs.

Gasp. Condemn. Go on.

Once I realized what happened, I bawled. We had come so far. Wendy and Mike had invested so much in me and I let them down. I was in shock.

We called the doctor. And lied. I couldn’t admit the truth to anyone but Wendy. We said I had had an emergency in Toledo and had to get back, by the time I got back to Cincinnati, it was too late to take the pill. Or something like that.

The nurse at the clinic was a bitch. Yeah, I said it. Sure, I was the one who forgot to take the pill. After weeks and weeks of remembering to give myself shots, I forgot the final, perhaps most important step. Yeah, I suck. But I didn’t need to hear it from her. I believe her words were something like, ‘I bet you feel pretty bad right now’. Bad didn’t even come close.

But, things still looked good physically. The doctors weren’t making promises – nothing in this process was a promise – but they weren’t completely negative either. The process was scheduled for the next morning. And, yes, I remembered to take that damn pill.

I don’t remember much of the procedure. I saw the set-up, which looked exactly how it did in the brochure, and that made me feel a little better. I started counting backward and then I woke up. Kinda. I think, and Wendy and Mike can fill this in, I talked or snored or drooled – yeah, I’m pretty sure I drooled – then I was out again. When I finally came to, I didn’t really feel awake. Or aware. We went back to Wendy and Mike’s house and I went straight to bed. I coulda slept for days, but Wendy was worried (isn’t that sweet?) and she woke me up. Getting moving, or at least eating, was good for me.

I didn’t have a lot of pain, which was good. And I eventually felt aware again, but that was a slow process. One I didn’t anticipate. I thought I’d wake up and feel normal, but I just felt cloudy.

I came back to Toledo shortly after the procedure and then began the wait. Waiting to see if Mike’s boys and my eggs liked each other (5 of them did). Waiting for Wendy’s part of the procedure. Waiting to see if she’d get pregnant.

3 comments:

Wendy said...

When the pill situation happened we were both pretty jacked up on hormones at that point so it's kinda amazing we didn't both kill that nasty nurse. ;) But we remained calm and it all worked out in the end.

Ky • twopretzels.com said...

Wow. I'm entranced.

wrestling kitties said...

This is so fascinating.

I personally feel people should mind their own business because there is nothing wrong with this process. Yes it is a medical process and not done naturally, but sometimes our bodies don't "work" right all the time and fortunately we live in a time where there are other routes to take. It is still a very beautiful miracle!!