Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Sometimes, 13 is a Scary Number

We geared up for our next IVF cycle in November; at least this time we got to use the Follistim pen, which was an absolute joy compared to mixing the powders. I was also on Lupron & lo dose hCG - thankfully this time I had different insurance which actually covered the meds - hallelujah! I was in full swing of the Lupron during Thanksgiving. My in laws were staying in a run down apartment around the corner until their new house was completed. We invited them over for turkey day; I just couldn't see them spending Thanksgiving at Uncle Juniors (on the Sopranos, his house is covered in wood paneling, as was this very run down little cracker box). My MIL came over early to help with the turkey, although it wound up being just her & DH. My fuse was non existent and this really set me off; I was terribly waspish with her. However, being that's she's emotionally unstable, I told her that I would clean and if she would continue helping DH with the turkey, that would be just great. So I cleaned & fumed. I spoke with my DH when she left, and we came to the conclusion - damned lupron! I'm usually much more easy going. Really! And the lesson I learned was, when inviting my in laws over for anything, to tell them to be there at a certain time - not earlier, as DH & I would handle all the food preparation. Normally, my MIL is very sweet, but God bless her heart, she does meddle something fierce. We're all trying to working on it without sending her into a temper tantrum.

Anyhoo, our cycle went (mostly) great - my left ovary decided to pitch in and help so we were off to a great start! Then my lining looked a little thin and one of the doctors told me if it didn't get better, we'd have to cancel the cycle. So I was a slight wreck about that. The following day it looked great, so full steam ahead. When they performed the retrieval, the magic number was 13: a baker's dozen, my kind doctor announced. We were so excited - this was looking good! We were on tenterhooks the next day waiting to find out how many fertilized. It seemed that my stomach leapt into my throat every time the phone rang, but no RE. I stepped out to get the mail. Upon my arrival, DH told me the nurse called: 3 fertilized. I felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach. "What do you mean, only three fertilized?!" I called the nurse to find out the details. Apparently there were 4 mature eggs, the rest were either immature or post mature. Very odd, but there you are. As three was not a good number to start with, we decided to hold off on the biopsy and PGD. We'd go through another cycle and get some more eggs. Because, you know, it's just that simple. We had been lulled into a false sense of security with the smoothness and (almost) success of our first cycle. We were now becoming aware of just how many hurdles there were in IFV. Bye bye naivete! Hellooooo, cautious optimism! They were able to freeze two of the three, so we looked to our calendar to plan our next cycle. Next Stop: Valentine's Day!


Post a Comment

<< Home