I was feeling hopeful.
Everything looked good at my ultrasound on Friday so the Dr. set Monday morning at 7 AM for the egg retrieval. I had a big trigger shot in my backside on Saturday evening, and then waited for the exciting day.
Monday morning arrived and we headed to the hospital in the thick darkness.
The darkness should have been my clue that ominous events were ahead. That ominous-ness came in the form of an old hag security guard. She curtly informed me upon our arrival to the hospital that children under 12 were not allowed inside.
I had my 9-year-old daughter with me.
No one had warned me of this seemingly arbitrary rule. I had no other arrangements for my Kitty so early in the morning. I had words with the security guard, told Michael we were forging ahead, and then proceeded to walk past her into the elevator to the surgery floor, ignoring her shouting out that I couldn't take Kitty upstairs.
Poor Michael and my boldness. He worked it all out with the head security man while I was safely tucked away in a back room under sedation. Thanks to his calm demeanor, they let Kitty stay.
So? How did it go?
Not as I had hoped. The Dr. only retrieved 3 eggs. The rest of my follicles - those which looked lovely and promising on ultrasound - were merely empty vessels of disappointment. My ovaries are cruel mistresses.
But...we are forging ahead and hoping for the best. The Dr. assured me that all is not lost. He said he'd rather have 3 nice quality eggs than 13 marginal ones. Thankfully my 3 meager donations looked like nice quality.
Now we wait for a few days while the embryos do some growing.
Tom Petty was right: the waiting is the hardest part.
No comments:
Post a Comment