DAY 13 & DAY 14: “this chicken just laid some eggs”

PREVIOUSLY on the last episode of ‘Style & Life by Susana’:

Egg collection has been booked and last injection was a couple of days ago, with the Ovidrel. This injection is injected 36 hours before you go into egg collection and the best feeling is that there are no more injections after tonight! (cue in my Chandler Bing happy dance)

DAY TWELVE

Not much to say today expect how wonderful it is to not have to worry about alarms and injections. I can finally relax, chill and just enjoy this moment (cue in me placing my arms behind my head and stretching out on the couch, pure bliss).

DAY THIRTEEN

Well today is the day I’m going to lay me some eggs!! We are off to make a baby… the scientific way!!!!!

As soon as we arrived at the hospital, the receptionist gave my husband a plastic sample container and off he went to ‘take care of himself’. I’ve asked quite a few times, if they have a television and porn magazines in the room to help those men, who may need a helping ‘hand’ – pun intended 😀 and he has said that they do, and the magazines and videos are circa late 70s to early 80s porn. Oh the embarrassment (cue in the chicka bow wow music).

Once my husband left, I had to fill in a few forms and soon enough the nurse came and collected me from the waiting room. She takes me to a room, and just goes over the usual with me: my name, address, date of birth, if I’m allergic to anything etc. Tells me to take off all my clothes and put on the gown , cap and that I can keep my fuzzy warm socks. Five mintues later she comes back and takes me to another room, where my bed is and I hope into bed. I pretty much wait around for ten minutes before anyone come’s along. By this time, I’m starting to get ovulation cramps and I’m convinced I’m about to lay my eggs a lot sooner than expected. I keep looking over at their clock and feel my cramps, soon enough a nurse come’s to check on me and tell her what I’m feeling. She tells me not to worry that I wouldn’t ovulate as the trigger really lasts up to 40 hours and not 36 hours. Why don’t they just tell people that, it really saves a lot of worry and stress. ANYWAY…

About to go and lay some eggs — I just had to take a couple of selfies while I was waiting to get wheeled away to the operating theatre.

Soon enough, the anaesthetist come’s and introduces himself. He’s British (I love British people and accents!) and his name is Charlie. Again, asks me the same questions again as the nurse had before and tells me what he will be doing (placing a small needle in my hand, which will relax me and drift me off to sleep blah blah blah). He wishes me good luck and says, “I’ll see you soon.” Shortly thereafter, the Doctor who’s collecting my eggs come’s and see’s again, and again asks me the same questions: what’s my name, address, date of birth but then she asks me, “what are you here for?”

Well, this just stopped me in my tracks. I seriously think you would have heard a cartoon sound of a skid marks or me hitting against a brick wall. I looked at her with a a shocked blank face and said, “please tell me you know why I’m here or else I’m seriously going to get extremely worried and petrified that you might think I’m here for something else?!”

The Doctor laughs her head off.

I’m still looking at her, eyes wide open, looking petrified.

The Doctor then places her hand on my shoulder and to my relief, says yes I know you’re in for egg collection but I just need you to tell me so then I know that you know.

PHEW!!

I burst into giggles and say yes, I’m here for egg collection. The Doctor then says according to my ultrasound how there was six follicles, I should expect to get at least 4 – 6 eggs. She then wishes me good luck and goes off to see another patient.

As I’m laying there, saying a prayer to God and Buddha (like I have always done at every egg collection) both the nurse and the anaesthetist come to collect and wheel me into the operating theatre.

Here, they, along with some assistant nurses, they place me onto another table, place my feet in the infamous stirrups and again, they ask me SAME QUESTIONS AGAIN (i.e. name, date of birth)…

Then they asked me, what I was here for again. Yes, they are all very repetitive, but you can understand why. Now me just being me… a tad eccentric and humorous, I replied by saying:

I’m here to lay some eggs!

Well didn’t that just make the whole operating theatre go silent! I am so serious, it was dead quite and then they all just burst out laughing, with Charlie, the anaesthetist saying, “well, that is a different and actual true way of putting it. I like it.”

Soon enough a nurse places an oxygen mask over my mouth, and the anaesthetist gently pats my left hand, places the needle in and soon enough the propofol starts to make its way through my veins and I am out like a light!

About forty minutes later, a nurse come’s in, and gently wakes me up and says they have found one egg and walks away. At that moment, my mind went into crash mode. On repeat, one egg, one egg, one egg was said over and over in my mind, and soon enough I burst into tears. Another nurse could hear me crying and rushed over to my side and asked what was wrong. I told her. She tried to calm me down and told me, it wasn’t one egg that it was three. I laid there, feeling a little better but still deflated. Deflated in the sense that out of all the cycles, this was the cycle where I laid the least amount of eggs. Yes, yes, yes, I know its quality over quantity but I couldn’t help but think what if none fertilise.

Soon enough, I was put into the recovery room, had some biscuits, cheese and juice. My husband shortly thereafter came to me, looking all happy to see me and asks me how many eggs did they get. I told him and I saw the look on his face. He looked disappointed and said he thought we would as many eggs like the other times. But son enough him being a lot more positive that I am in these situations, tried to convince me (or was it himself??) that its quality no quantity. Hmmm mmmm. Sure.

So then we were sent off home and told we would get called within the next couple of days the fertilisation results.

DAY FOURTEEN

no news is good news

Let me just say, even though in most cases my phone pretty much never leaves my side… OK, it lives in my hands (!!), but the day after laying my eggs, my phone NEVER left my side. Every time it rang, my heart just fell to the ground with a complete thump and I just thought, ‘OMG, its the lab! It’s not good news, the eggs haven’t fertilised!”

But nope, the lab hasn’t rung yet. And right now as I’m typing this post up, its now 5.28PM and they haven’t rung yet. Pretty much Joey Tribbiani’s (character from Friends) photo pretty much explains how I look like now: