I couldn't sleep. I was anxious, excited and nervous.
And then the morning of the embryo transfer I had to drink a lot of water in advance. So then I had to pee. And my bladder is already weak. So there's that.
The doctor decided to perform ICSI (intracytoplasmic sperm injection) on half of the eggs and let the rest try and “naturally" meet with Peter's sperm. Peter felt confident about this split (he said with his charm and natural charisma they'd do just fine), but I would have liked the doctor to perform ICSI on every last one of them.
Jenn:
I was thinking at best the doctor would retrieve fourteen eggs. And don't get me wrong, I would have been pleased with fourteen. But not all fertilize or make it to day five so the more the merrier. Well, lo and behold (as I was shopping at Living Spaces) I got the anticipated call, told my sales guy to "hold that thought" and I ran to a quiet place to answer.
Jenn:
It's late and I should have been asleep hours ago, but I'm so anxious and excited that I am still wide awake staring at the ceiling. And I know that I shouldn't count my chickens before they're hatched, but tomorrow is the big day. I'm wondering how many eggs we'll find tomorrow morning. It's kind of like the night before Easter in a weird, emotional sort of fertility treatment kind of way.
Peter:
I feel like a preacher in the middle of a sermon on a sweltering Sunday somewhere south of Savannah. That's the feeling that's overcome us today. Our donor is ready to go!
You are going to yell and scream and cry and then laugh and then get chills and then feel excitement and fear like you've never felt in your life and then cry again and that will all repeat. That means that you are going through fertility treatment.
"..shots, shots shots shots, EVERYBODY!"
No, this isn't the LMFAO song featuring Lil Jon. It's the fertility treatment anthem. And no, we aren't at Tao Beach at the Venetian. We're at the Roxbury. No, not that Roxbury.
Jenn:
Once we decided to go with an egg donor we had to find one. Dr. G and his staff recommended an agency called Growing Generations so we went home and I immediately got on my computer and logged in. This is where it got kind of strange for me. Am I really going to a website to pick out the woman whose eggs I'm going to be using to have a baby?!
Sometimes this feels like an unrelenting Groundhog Day of injections, blood work and disappointment. And yet, we fight on like Marine recruits during the Crucible in basic training. Like Diana Nyad swimming from Havana, Cuba to Key West, Florida. We have to keep going.
