Started in “The Art & Science of Making Our Critter, Part I“
Continued in “The Art & Science of Making Our Critter, Part II“
…Continued from “The Art & Science of Making Our Critter, Part III“
We’ll rewind just a tad here. On Monday, February 7, 2011, Miguel got horrible news. He was told that a close friend of his committed suicide. They had known each other for so long — Probably 20 years. To say this was a surprise was an understatement.
So, when we get our awesome 3-day fertilization report on February 8, 2011, he was beyond relieved or happy or whatever. You combine the death of his friend with what happened on our previous 3-day fertilization report, and this boy just wanted to hear something good. So, when I say I can’t describe the look on his face, I mean it. There was so much emotion tied into that one look, that it is just impossible to put into words.
Miguel left for Dallas for the memorial for his friend on Thursday, February 17, 2011. He would be there until Sunday. However, the extra bummer to this is my blood test to see if I was pregnant was scheduled for Saturday, February 19. He would not be there with me when I found out. In the scheme of things, this is probably not that important.
But when you consider the HOT MESS that I became between Thursday and Saturday, you might think differently. I was pretty OK until after he left. Then the worry set in. By Friday, I was just trying to sleep whenever I could so I would avoid the worrying and how awful it was making me feel. As an added bonus to all this, I was experiencing extreme constipation because of all the hormones I had been on, and was still having to take. I could take nothing for it, so physically and emotionally I was just a mess. I woke up from one of my naps around Friday/Saturday at midnight. This is when my wheels started churning. How early was too early to get my blood drawn? The place I had to go was a 24-hour lab. So, I watched stuff on Netflix for as long as I could manage, but then finally caved.
I ended up heading to the hospital lab at 4am. Due to some seriously stupid people, I almost got checked into the ER when I was just asking for directions to the lab. All that mess took me an hour! So, when I finally found the lab at 5am, I was just confused and frazzled. The lady there was really helpful, and made sure I wasn’t going to have to pay for an ER visit, and yelled at some people on the phone for putting me through all that. Then she took my blood. Best blood draw ever. So smooth. And with IVF, you become a bit of a critic of all the phlebotomists. You have to get blood taken almost as often as they stick stuff up your lady junk. So, yes, best blood draw ever.
So, I head home, eat some breakfast and then proceed to crash from about 6:30am until 11am-ish. I am supposed to receive a call by no later than 1:30pm. The sheet I have specifically states that if I have not heard by that time, to page out the nurse. Well, 1:30pm comes and goes, and by 1:32pm I’m paging out. I get a call back around 2pm, and I apologize for being a dork for paging out, but she says I did the right thing. I could hear her shuffling papers around, and I was starting to get nervous and she says something like “OH! Good news!” and I think she said something else, but I could seriously have passed out by this point. I regain my composure while she tells me what my next orders are and all that. I have to get my blood drawn again on Monday.. keep taking my progesterone… yadda yadda yadda. Holy shit. I’m pregnant!?
TO BE CONTINUED in “…And Even More WAITING!“