As a theatre major, math has never been my strong suit. But this IVF process has had me crunching the numbers. To be honest, I'm not sure what are considered "good" numbers in an egg retrieval. I know some women who have gotten 32 eggs from one retrieval and some who have gotten two. I guess I land somewhere in the middle.
The retrieval was set for Thursday and at my final ultrasound on Tuesday, it was looking like I had 12 mature eggs. Twelve is my magic number. Twelve is the amount retrieved during my very first round of IVF that gave us our son. So for me, twelve just feels right.
They took my blood. Always an ordeal that takes multiple tries given my awful tiny veins. But my favorite nurse nailed it (after some digging) with only one prick in the hand. My last blood work until the transfer. Can I get a hallelujah?
I went home and my husband gave me the perfectly-timed HCG trigger shot at exactly 11:15pm. I was told to be at the surgical center no later than 9:15 a.m. on Thursday to prep for my 10:15 transfer. I'm never late. I hate being late.
We were late.
Traffic in LA sucks and leaving an hour and fifteen minutes early to go 20 miles did nothing to help our cause. I got a call at 9:21 asking where I was. I was two blocks from the surgical center and going nowhere fast. I apologized and we finally made it ... 8 minutes late.
Last time, I remember waiting in the lobby for over an hour. I came prepared this time. I brought magazines, loaded Scrabble on my phone. I was ready. Turns out, so were they.
When I arrived, there was a flurry of paperwork and I was rushed back to prep. Dr. B was ready and waiting. I was hooked up to an IV and under anesthesia by 9:40. It was impressive.
I awoke to hear that 15 eggs were retrieved, although not all were mature. I got the call the following day that 10 were mature and eight fertilized. Not terrible. In fact, these numbers are very similar to those I had with Lloyd in the first round. So, I'm feeling good. Hopeful. Optimistic.
Let's hope at least six make it to transfer day (this Tuesday) and we have a good one in the bunch. Statistically, I think they say one in five or six blastocysts of women my age are healthy.
I'm tired of counting, adding, subtracting and guessing. No matter how big or small the number, in the end, it only takes one.
So let's hope we get the perfect 1 to become our baby #2 and complete our family of 4.
But for now, I’m done with math. My head hurts.