Egg pick up

On Wednesday morning we awoke before 7 am and although it would have been too early for breakfast, just knowing that I wasn’t allowed to eat made me hungry!

We arrived at the private hospital, checked in and waited in a small waiting room.
Within a few minutes a nurse took us into an office, checked my paper work, weighed me and then berated me for signing something before the doctor had filled out the form. She then had me change into a flattering hospital gown.

The only thing that made me smile that day was the sight of my husband in scrubs.
For a moment I imaged what it would be like being married to a surgeon.
But as he struggled to get the footsie covers over his big feet, that illusion was shattered.
I lay down under a warm blanket for a few minutes before being wheeled off to a pre-op room.

There I met my anesthesiologist, the doctor performing the egg pick up and the scientist assisting her. I was given an injection referred to as “champagne”... and I felt a light buzz. Then they wheeled me into the operating theatre and the last thing I remember was a male nurse introducing himself...

I woke dazed, confused and sore in the recovery ward.

I remembered that the doctor writes in pen on your hand the number of eggs they were able to retrieve...

My right hand read 14!

I drifted in and out of sleep for what must have been a few hours. I felt a leaking sensation between my legs and made the mistake of putting my hand down there, only to be upset by the sight of a lot of blood. I called over the nurse, he pulled back the cover and gasped!

That is the single worst sound one can hear in a hospital.

He replaced a soaked pad-thing 3 or 4 times, before he deemed me ok to move to the next section of the recovery process. A nice nurse gave me a sandwich (which has never tasted so good) and suggested when I was ready, that I get dressed.

When I sat up and draped my legs over the side of the bed I felt something leave my body...

I suggest you stop reading now if you are squeamish...

There in front of me on the bed was a clot of blood the size of a grapefruit and I started to freak.

I tried to stand and as I did I felt more blood running down my legs and onto the floor.

I cried out for help and the nice nurse assured me it was ok and cleaned me up.
She walked me to a bathroom and within a few seconds I felt my knees wobble as I threw up in the sink. My head was pounding, my heart was racing and my abdomen was throbbing. After being seated and given some anti-nausea medicine, I was eventually allowed to leave.

The next 3 days were a blur, I slept poorly, awoke every few hours in pain, found it difficult to roll over, let alone get up and my stomach was so distended, I thought my skin would tear.

On Thursday morning we were told that only 2 of the 14 eggs had fertilized.

My heart broke.