Well that was unexpected.

Being blindsided is becoming a regular stop now that we're on the IVF train.  My first big shock came during the holiday appointments.  The ultrasound went well.  They counted 7 follicles (that's one more than I had before - I naively found comfort in this), thought the endometrial lining looked good, and said things were the right measurements.  I took the tech's word for it.  To me, the ultrasound monitor looks like nothing more than a fuzzy television... which makes me think of Poltergeist... which I really need to get over because there are a lot of ultrasounds in my immediate future.  Despite the horror show reference, believe me when I say I was feeling really good about our prospects.  I'd convinced myself we had this in the bag.



Then I got a dose of IVF reality.  Early on a snowy morning my husband and I headed back to SGF for a mock embryo transfer.  To say the least, it was an ordeal.  It's a mildly uncomfortable procedure and starts off like an annual pap exam.  Annual pap exams, for me, are a nightmare.  I won't get into the details, but their a pain.  Literally.  After thirty minutes of unpleasantness we headed home.  I actually felt fine and was glad they did the mock - it'll make actual transfer day go a lot smoother.  I settled in at home to watch some movies when all of a sudden the excruciating cramps came.

Cramping-  it's a term many women are familiar with.  But, this wasn't ordinary cramps.  The feeling was so intense, I was frightened by it.  I needed pain killers - pronto!  I'd have to get it myself; I was home alone.  As I made my way down two flights of stairs, hunched over and moaning, the world began to go black.  "DON'T FAINT," I told myself.  I might have also told myself that if I passed out I'd never wake up and die.  That was dramatic (and I'm not proud of it), but I was worried about fainting when no one was around to shake me back to consciousness   Somehow I managed to sit myself on the ground while still semi-alert.  Things continued to fade for a second or two and I just tired to breathe.  Almost as quickly as it went, the light started to return.  Hallelujah!  I'd live.



Now I had a decision to make.  Should I continue my trek to the kitchen for much needed meds or make my way back up the stairs to get to my cell?  No contest - I was desperate to be near my phone.  Does that say something about our current culture?  It might.  Hey, at least I didn't tweet about it.  I tried calling my husband.  No answer.  I sent a pathetic, pleading text.  I doubted he'd see it.  This wasn't going to be easy - he was busy volunteering at a local homeless shelter.  I called SGF.  My doctor assured me this wasn't unheard of and advised me to take some pain killers.  It gave me some peace to hear her say nothing  catastrophic was happening.  None the less, I was scared to attempt the stairs again.  I googled the shelter (from my phone - thank you very much!) and called.   The staff found my husband and sent him home.  When he arrived, I was face down on the carpet.... petting it.  Yes, I just said I was petting the carpet.  It somehow soothed me.  I share that odd tid-bit so you realize - I was totally out of sorts.  Crazy and crampy.


30 minutes and 4 ibuprofen later I felt better.  But, I was rattled.  IVF wasn't so exciting anymore.  It through me a curve ball when I least expected it.  As a result, my positive vibes were jarred.  Some days were obviously going to be physically draining and others would be emotionally exhausting... as I'd experience a little over 24 hours later.