Three weeks ago I was preparing for the transfer, until the pre-transfer scan revealed that my uterus was not the happy, hospitable home our sole, fertilized embryo needed. The doctor thought the scan showed a polyp, or maybe a cyst, but he wouldn’t know for sure until he looked at it through a hysteroscope. So, he had me stop taking the estradiol (estrogen), switch to provera to induce my period, and once that started, go back on birth control pills so they could schedule a hysteroscopy to remove whatever he saw on the pre-transfer scan. Let me tell you, going from 12 days on a high dose of hormone A to 5 days on hormone B to an unknown time on hormone C is not fun. It’s miserable. It’s more miserable when you add in the stress of buying a new home, dealing with a still-recovering dog (she had a leg injury that is slowly getting better), completing multiple projects for work, organizing various political activities (canvassing, phone banking, voter registration), and trying to process the emotions generated from watching last week’s Senate hearings and their aftermath. I’m surprised I haven’t been curled in a fetal position for the past three weeks, but I simply haven’t had time.
Anyway.
Two days ago, my husband and I worked half-days and then drove the 4+ hours to Jacksonville for an overnight stay so we’d be able to get to the fertility office by 7am yesterday for the hysteroscopy. I filled out the usual anesthesia paperwork and then paid a few hundred bucks because even though I’ve met my deductible AND maxed out my out-of-pocket expenses, my insurance refused to cover the anesthesia because the office uses a nurse anesthesiologist (I’ll be fighting this … just one more thing to deal with). Even so, I wasn’t nearly as anxious about this procedure as I am for egg retrievals because I didn’t feel nearly as physically uncomfortable, there was a lot less pressure to “produce,” and this would be the fourth time I’ve gone to their office to be knocked out for a procedure that involves various instruments looking in my uterus. In all honesty, I was looking forward to it because I REALLY needed to get some solid sleep, and I figured being zonked out from anesthesia would work (it did).
After the procedure, the nurse told me it wasn’t a polyp after all, but instead was scarring from the fibroid removal that was done in February. The doctor did something to remove or reduce the scarring so the embryo would be able to implant and thrive. She also told me that scarring isn’t necessarily better than polyps, but I feel better knowing that I didn’t have random things growing inside of me. The nurse also gave me the new timeline for the transfer:
Remain on birth control pills for 2 more weeks
Four days after stopping, re-start the estradiol (estrogen)
Thirteen days after that, it’s back to Tallahassee for a pre-transfer scan
If all goes well, transfer will be the following week (early November)
Assuming we make it to the transfer this time, the first bloodwork is 10 days later
Second bloodwork is three days after that, which ends up being the day before Thanksgiving
This means that for the second year in a row, we won’t be able to go home for Thanksgiving. Even if we end up not having the transfer as currently re-tentatively scheduled, that knowledge would come too late to find dog care or purchase non-exorbitant plane tickets. However, instead of trying to invite ourselves to a friend’s local Thanksgiving dinner, it turns out my in-laws (mom, aunt, sister, her hubby, and their two kids) are going to come down to us for Thanksgiving! We warned them that depending on how things go with the transfer and post-transfer, we’ll either be terrified, anxious, excited, or completely miserable. And yet they all still want to come.
In the meantime, after spending one day (half of which included the drive home) recovering from the procedure, it was back to work as normal this morning, with two more full days ahead of me before I’ll have a chance to sleep in and/or take a nap during the day. At least I’m allowed to drink caffeine again.