Sunday, January 27, 2008

T-minus 36 hours.

After the world's longest follicle-stimulation cycle*, at 7:30 Sunday I took the shot that will induce ovulation. The ovulation, and the retrieval of the eggs, happens Tuesday morning.

I don't remember my 2004 retrieval, probably due to the anesthesia. This is what I thought about it at the time. This time we have the added complication of an existing child, and getting to the doctor by 7 AM means doing something more loving with Ada than stashing her in our trunk with some cheese crackers and a Madeline book. Luckily we also have the world's nicest child care provider, who agreed to show up at 6:25 AM on a day she doesn't normally work for us, get Ada fed and dressed and over to Monkey Boy's house so they can both be cared by a different care provider. Juni's response to my request was essentially, "No problem, I am happy to do my part to help you have another child, so I can love it up." Did I mention what an amazement she is? I really don't know what we'll do this fall, when she'll be done with school and ready to move on to full time employment.

We also have the added complication of a lovely but intense friend coming to town tomorrow for his father's cancer work-up. I am sure he'll understand that I need to work around certain unavoidable appointments, as well as around work, family, sleep, etc.

The timing is actually pretty good as such things go. I don't usually work on Tuesdays and Fridays, and those are also days Ellen is around to help me out. Tuesday should be fine - Ada will be with Monkey Boy and a child care person in the morning and Ellen will feed and make sure Ada gets a nap. The trick is going to be Friday. I need to get over the guilt feeling associated with letting someone else take care of my child for most of the day. I am supposed to lay low post-embryo transfer. After the transfer a few months ago, I felt fidgety and could not really stand the idea of lazing about. A day off (especially one with no child) left me dying to clean up, start a load of wash, and generally engage in activities not conducive to quiet relaxation. This time I am feeling a little more superstitious about following the doctors' orders. I'll work on that this week, and just in case I will do laundry on Thursday.

As long as I am thinking about this, here is a shot of why Ada loves my fertility doc's offices:


Plus, the view includes several bridges and this ship-building dock, complete with huge blue crane:

(Not pictured, the "tram hut" at the bottom of the OHSU tram. She loves all things tram.)



*For those of you who know or care about such things, usually the stimulation is 8 to 12 days, 14 at the outside. Since my ovaries didn't cooperate until day 7, the docs pretended that was my day 4, and went from there. I have been on the meds for 16 days, and it is just in the last two days that my ovaries have started to feel incredibly huge and heavy. I feel like I'm carrying two bowling balls in there, instead of ovaries. Ok, maybe not full-sized ones, but at least the duckpin kind.

13 comments:

  1. I've got my fingers crossed for you.

    (Oh, and Ada? With the school bus? And the curls? Oh. my. god. I want to reach in and smooch her cheeks off.)

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  2. yay for the next step. i will definitely continue to think the very most positive of thoughts for you!

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  3. We're thinking good thoughts for you, Chris, and Ada. I'm hoping you'll really relax on Friday. No laundry, no cleaning...just sitting still with some crackers and a Madeleine book, perhaps?

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  4. (un)relaxeddad1/28/2008 8:06 AM

    Likewise, positive thoughts (not original but originality has its limitations). And yes, good childminders are pearls indeed.

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  5. Good luck!! Don't worry about Ada on Friday -- it's one short day.

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  6. I'm sending more positive thoughts to you.

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  7. Whew. That is good and now I have fingers and toes crossed and sending good thoughts.

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  8. Good luck tomorrow. Here's hoping for lots of wonderful ripe receptive eggs!

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  9. I konw I'm late in commenting but happy positive thoughts are coming your way. I remember getting my eggs retrieved.......I sat up during the procedure and asked my doctor if I could watch. She promptly said to me, "this is not a spectator sport." Then this ginormous hand grabbed my head and laid me back down.....huh, aliens perhaps? Good luck to you!!!!!

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  10. You must have been more with it than I was, Mary. Once they turned on the anesthesia I was woozy and and felt compelled to close my eyes. From there I remember nothing more than the doctor coming in, and waking up a while later.

    I thought I'd want to watch my knee surgery (15 years ago) but was similarly knocked out - seeing film of such surgeries later I am glad I didn't try to watch.

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  11. oh. bless. you. dear. ones. with. all. things. good. and. calm. and. safe.whizuhbq

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  12. okay, so that little jibberish-typing at the end of my comment was me trying to type in the word verification code, not some hidden message...geez.

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  13. ohhhhh. hope it went well. my spiritual fingers are crossed.

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