We are finally in Denver! It’s been a dramatic couple days and I have a lot of updating to do so there will be a flurry of posts over the next day or two. Bear with me!
Tuesday was a hellish day. It was my first monitoring appointment at my OB’s office and it just did not go the way I wanted it to. K drove me over to the clinic and promised to join me after he got some coffee to jumpstart his day. However, before he got there I was undressed and ready for the scan. The doc came in, liberally pumped lubricant on that vile ultrasound wand and started off. He was looking at my right ovary first and he nodded his head as he measured what I assumed (and hoped!) was a follicle.
How many, I asked nervously. I don’t think he heard me for he remained quiet for what seemed like an eternity. 12, he said, looking at me and smiling. Oh really, 12?? That’s simply wonderful, that’s possibly the best– … I cut the sentence off right here as I realized he did not mean the number of follicles but the size instead. Wait, there’s more there right?, I asked. Not really, he replied. There’s got to be some small ones you can’t measure right now, I insisted. He shook his head grimly saying that there was just the one and moved the wand over to point at the left ovary.
My stomach did that uncomfortable sinking thing it does whenever disappointment hits me. It’s a mixture of despair and deep, paralyzing fear I think that makes me head swim and makes me want to run, flee to the comfort of my bed so I can safely hide within the covers and keep all the demons at bay.
This is much better, he said as he scanned leftie. Better, to him, was 4 follies sized at 16, 14, 11 and 10 mm. This made me feel even worse for I knew that the 16mm one seemed too big for this early into the stimming process and I instantly started worrying that I would ovulate before time and my cycle would get canceled. The rest of the scan was a blur as I tried hard to control my lurching stomach and my woozy head. Doc looked back at me as he walked out urging me to have faith and to remember that it only takes one (if only I had a penny for every time someone says that to me!). I could barely look at him for I knew another sympathetic word would have me sobbing my heart out. I hurriedly scrambled into my clothes and walked out the clinic downstairs to get my blood drawn at the lab.
The lab assistant seemed to be having a good week as I found her once again in a rather cheerful mood. She whisked me in and had me out in under two minutes, promising me that she would send the bloods out soonest. I walked out to find K sitting in the lobby waiting for me. One look at my wan face and he knew something was wrong. I told him about my 5 follies, about my worry that I was responding too fast and yet, not enough and then I told him I did not want to talk about it at all. I felt sick to my heart, I wanted to crawl into a black hole and never come out, I wanted K to hold me and tuck me away in some corner of his shirt pocket. I was angry, I was sad, I was frustrated but most of all I was scared. Petrified, really.
The drive back home was a somber affair. I walked inside, ignoring my parents questioning looks. Shook my feet free of their shoe-d confines, drew the drapes tightly shut and crawled into my bed, covering my face with the blanket. I knew everyone was worried. I wanted to tell them I was okay even though I was far from okay. I did not know how to do it. Again and again my mind insisted, how could there be just 5 follies. From an AFC of 13, I get only 5 stinking follies? Even my first IVF I had 9 follies.
What made everything worse was that it was a special day for us–an Indian festival that celebrates marriage and married life. I really like celebrating this day with all its attendant rituals, especially dressing up in traditional clothes. Yet, here I was in my sweatpants and a ratty old sweatshirt, feeling numb and ignoring my rumbling stomach. K called many times to try soothe my fears but with each passing minute I grew more and more anguished. I cried for hours on end, my poor parents trying their best to get me to calm down. At one point I was so exhausted from all the crying and not eating that I dozed off. I woke up to realize it was late afternoon. CCRM still hadn’t called which meant they did not have the results with them yet.
The next couple hours were crazy stressful. CCRM was about to shut for the day and the nurse had called me to let me know she had neither the u/s report nor the labs. I called the doc’s office and had them re-fax the report. The labs seemed to take an eternity but a call to quest revealed they had been faxed early afternoon. I was at the edge of my patience. I was worried that I might ovulate too soon and wanted to start the cetrotide sooner but of course needed the nurse to confirm that with me. Furthermore, I wanted to know if the cycle was at risk of being canceled. Finally at 4.58 pm mountain time, my nurse called and told me they had everything but that Dr S had left so she would have Dr. Schoolcraft look over my reports and advise me on next steps. I waited by the phone and in about 20 minutes she called back to let me know that I had to start the cetrotide the next morning, keep all other doses the same and travel to Denver as planned. To my concern that things were looking bleak, she said it did seem that I was responding fast but then my follicles were of similar size and my estrogen level (at 209) was where they like to see it at this time.
It wasn’t quite the thumping vote of assurance but then, under the circumstances, this was the best that could have happened. At least there was no mention of canceling cycles. Moreover, she told me they preferred doing their own measurements and bloodwork as they did not trust results from other labs. With that in mind, I finally ate and tried to salvage what was left of the day. My adorable husband had already given me a wonderful gift–a beautiful down jacket to keep me warm in Denver–and he now helped me pack and get things in order for out trip the next day.
As I wrestled a nagging headache in bed at night, I prayed hard to God to carry me over this one.