July 29, 2011: So, what does one do with twelve mature eggs after aspiration? You fertilize them! That's what! And what do you fertilize them with? Glass blower baby sperm...not sure if he's made his way to the blog yet but he was our choice before Abercrombie baby sperm but was out of stock with our last IUI. But...for our IVF, a fresh load (no pun intended) back on your grocer's shelf! So, our dozen kiddies-to-be will officially meet their donor via petri-dish fertilization. And how does one accomplish such a feat, particularly without a boy and the traditional fertilization? You pay for an embryologist...a guy that gets paid to introduce egg to sperm and then monitor them daily to see if they do a little "brown chicken brown cow" in the petri dish.
After the aspiration, our embryologist, Dr. Clark, left the eggs to "settle down" a little before insperminating them. They had, after all, gone through a heck of a day. They started the morning all cozy in Heidi's ovaries and by 5:30 that night, they had been poked, sucked out, eyeballed under a high powered microscope, left to marinate in a petri dish with special sauce meant to keep them alive. Yea, probably not the day they expected. To accommodate that rough entry, Dr. Clark let them have a few hours of lounging around the petri dish. After the dirty dozen had time to acclimate to their new surroundings, he introduced them to the swimmers...the spermies. Then, he dimmed the lights, put them in the refrigerator with some mood music (probably not that part, but it sounds like it would have been a good idea) and let them "mingle".
Now, I think that we have been ridiculously fortunate in our choice of fertility doctors. We have our nurses cell phone number whenever we have questions. Not only do we have her number, but we've used it and amazingly, she responds! Day or night. Same thing with our embryologist. He gave his cell phone number and told us we can call him every day to check the status of the fertilization. Again, I have to say, I've been going to my primary doctor for over ten years and I have yet to get a cell number...so, yea, we were very fortunate. (And if you know Heidi, every little thing causes concern. Our nurse, Pam, probably had us on speed dial).
So, twenty-four hours after aspiration, we call him to get a status update on the twelve eggs. First report on July 29th, was okay. I mean, we didn't exactly know what to expect so we listened to the doctor and took notes. Let me find that note...oh, here it is: 9 fertilizations, 8 of them normal, one had to be discarded. OK then, so, let's see. That means three didn't fertilize. OK. Manageable. We didn't really want twelve kids anyway. Of the nine that the romantic music worked for, one of those didn't, um, I don't know what verbiage to use here...didn't prosper? Whatever the terminology, we were left with eight. Oddly, that created a little panic in me. Only eight left? Strange, I know, because we never aspired to be Kate Gosselin. We don't want eight children. But OK...let's see how tomorrow goes.
July 30th's phone call netted more information way above my knowledge base. One six cell embryo with no fragmentation (I did learn that fragmentation is bad, we do not want fragmentation). Seven of them were five to six cells with one of them being grade one and one being a grade three because it was fragmenting. That's a lot of information huh? Let me try to explain some of this...the cells divide every day. The more they divide, the better they get graded, as long as there is no fragmentation. What is fragmentation, you ask? Well, give me a little second to google that...embryo fragmentation occurs when cells divide unevenly, creating bits of membrane-bound cytoplasm that have no nucleus. The majority of embryos created during IVF cycles are observed to have some fragmentation, however, the more fragmentation, the less likely an embryo is to develop normally and implant successfully. The extent of fragmentation is an important indicator of embryo quality. So, in short, out of eight, seven were doing super, one was doing a little mediocre.
July 31st netted us a loss. The mediocre embryo was down-graded to a grade 4 and was expected to expire soon. However, the remaining embryos would likely make it to the blastocyst stage. That's what we want! The more division that takes place in each of the cells, the better. [Side note here: Heidi and I are probably one of a handful of people in the universe that actually have a picture of some random blastocyst at their desk to refer to regularly].
August 1st, last and final day before we move the best embryos back to their original home...Heidi's tummy (well, a little to the left, from her ovary to her uterus). The remaining seven embryos continue to thrive and divide but Dr. Clark would like to make sure they make it to the blastocyst stage prior to the transfer. As such, our morning appointment is going to be moved to the afternoon. No big deal, right? This whole year has been nothing but an emotional waiting game, what's a few more hours? Oy vey!
So, what does all of this mean to us? After five days, our little embryos are almost ready to go back home. August 2nd is the big day...let me elaborate, August 2nd in the afternoon is the big moment.
We hope our first babysitter has done a good job. He's been great at keeping us up-to-date and using very big words. Way more than the traditional $10/hour babysitter of traditional families...but, then again, he's actually making our kids for us, not just watching them divide. I guess it's worth the price...as long as it works. Fingers are crossed...tomorrow is the big day!
Us
Monday, August 15, 2011
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Putting all of our eggs in one basket (or petri dish...)
July 28, 2011: Captain's Log - Going where no man has gone before. Today is aspiration day. Sounds like a big ol' snot removing procedure, but no, it is a ridiculously important day for us. Today is the day that we remove the eggs that may one day become our baby. Or babies. Yea, there's still that chance.
So, today, we leave work a little early to go to the doctor's and have this procedure done. The doctor and embryologist are there and Heidi isn't. I mean, she's there, but she's jacked up on Demerol and in her own happy place. It's just as well though...it's not the funnest procedure one can endure. The doctor is playing baby lullabies in the background...amazingly apropos. There are a lot of machines in the room so it's cold at first (as Heidi announces while she's drugged up...asking for socks) but all of the machines make it warmer. Just a little "How cute is my wife" aside...she has an IV of demerol in and apparently, it bothers her. Through barely opened eyes, she has made it her mission to move the IV. She tries to pick it up, she tries to move her hand. Generally, she forgets what she's doing right in the middle of doing it and several times just froze where she was...her hand on her mouth, hovering over the IV, just hanging there in the air. Again, how cute is my wife? :)
Here's the 411 on a little game we like to call "Find the eggs". So, the doctor is at the helm (you know, right between Heidi's knees, usually my place of preference, but well, you know...I don't know how to retrieve eggs). He has a long needle that seems to serve three purposes...one to burst the follicle, which holds the egg; two, to suck it out and three, to wash the inside of the follicle out again to make sure the little egg was captured. The magic potion, or all the stuff in the follicle, is then sucked out and goes into what? A test tube! Who knew! It brings new meaning to test tube baby! Then, Dr. Clark, our embryologist is right behind the "helm" with a huge incubator with a microscope. Everytime a test tube fills up, he puts it into a petri dish and lets Dr. Weldon know if there's an egg or not. He does a little "shout out" to the helmsman..."we have a mature egg", "nothing here", "another mature egg"...it was like playing the egg lottery! Dr. Weldon would pop a folly and say that this one was small and we probably wouldn't find anything and then unexpectedly...a mature egg (that, my friends, is my over-achiever wife at her prime!).
After the eggs were in a dish, the embryologist would let me look through the microscope to see the egg. He gave the very technical explanation (using all words that were completely outside my vernacular) but super cool, none the less. I want you to stop and think about this, about the gravity of this. I am seeing an egg from my wife's ovaries. An egg in the most smallest, premature state. Yet, I could potentially be staring at what could become our child. That is amazing to me in a way that words cannot express. I mean, who gets to do that??? Who gets to see that part the baby making process? I was just awestruck.
Anyway, so, in all, my little tiny 95 lb. wife who is the epitome of an overachiever, created twelve eggs. A frigging dozen!!! Which is a good thing, our fertility doctor is a little particular about always ending up with an even number...I tremble to think what would have happened if he only found eleven!
OK...for the faint at heart, maybe you want to skip to the next paragraph. This one gets a little gross. Remember that three purpose needle? I may have forgotten to mention that it's extremely sharp. While the doctor is putting it into the cervix and guiding it up to the ovaries, it has the potential to "poke" stuff it isn't supposed to poke. We had an ultrasound, but that was aimed primarily at the ovaries, not the path up. So, yea, on the way back in for one of the eggs, it "poked" the inside of her vagina. Not just that, but it poked a vein or artery. What happens when you poke a vein or artery with a really big needle? It bleeds. And this one did. A LOT. I was back by the embryologist looking at the eggsters and when I look up, I see Heidi spread-eagle (hehehe!) but not in a good way. There was blood everywhere. I had a slight moment of internal panic as I muttered, "is this normal?" Really? That was my question? Of course it wasn't normal...apparently I'm not that great in a moment of panic. The embryologist advised I could look away if it was difficult, but yea, that wasn't going to happen. I did not spend years and years honing myself by watching gory and scary movies only to look away at the puddle of blood forming under my wife. Perhaps I should have looked away...anyway, the doctor told me what happened, stuffed a bunch of gauze up there and stopped the bleeding. He tested her blood pressure several times to make sure she didn't loose too much blood and all was right with the world again. Except it was amazingly horrific to see. My poor little Heidi and her vagina. [Insert inappropriate joke here about a little prick in her vagina...LMAO].
So, after the aspiration, Heidi lay still slightly drunk from Demerol while the embryologist takes the eggs to his special egg fertilizing lair (which is really just a special room that's mostly dark and very laboratory-like). Heidi continues to work hard to wake up (she's horrible with any kind of anesthesia...it takes her forever to wake up and she always gets sick). I get instructions from the nurse (I also invite her to my 40th birthday party...it's a multi-tasking kind of day). We shake Heidi a little more...talk a little more about our next appointment. Again, try to wake Heidi up...I told you, she really takes to anesthesia. Finally, the nurse and I slide her panties and pants on over her sleeping legs and stand her up into them. She still has no recollection of this...she also has no recollection of the three times the doctor, nurse and I told her how the procedure went, no recollection of the conversation we had with the nurses in the lobby, maybe a slight recollection of the chocolate shake I bought her on the way home...probably not though.
So, the first huge day was done. Twelve eggs...all that's left is insperminating them (baby daddy is in a vial at in the fertilizing lair). The countdown is on...we need fertilization, no fragmentation, healthy eggs...and we have five days for all of that to happen. I'm pretty sure this will be the longest five days ever...next step: embryo transfer! Fingers crossed, prayers being said, come on babies, you can do it...I saw you! You're strong, you're already loved and we are waiting for you...come on, come on, we know you're ready to have two mommies to love you incredibly!
So, today, we leave work a little early to go to the doctor's and have this procedure done. The doctor and embryologist are there and Heidi isn't. I mean, she's there, but she's jacked up on Demerol and in her own happy place. It's just as well though...it's not the funnest procedure one can endure. The doctor is playing baby lullabies in the background...amazingly apropos. There are a lot of machines in the room so it's cold at first (as Heidi announces while she's drugged up...asking for socks) but all of the machines make it warmer. Just a little "How cute is my wife" aside...she has an IV of demerol in and apparently, it bothers her. Through barely opened eyes, she has made it her mission to move the IV. She tries to pick it up, she tries to move her hand. Generally, she forgets what she's doing right in the middle of doing it and several times just froze where she was...her hand on her mouth, hovering over the IV, just hanging there in the air. Again, how cute is my wife? :)
Here's the 411 on a little game we like to call "Find the eggs". So, the doctor is at the helm (you know, right between Heidi's knees, usually my place of preference, but well, you know...I don't know how to retrieve eggs). He has a long needle that seems to serve three purposes...one to burst the follicle, which holds the egg; two, to suck it out and three, to wash the inside of the follicle out again to make sure the little egg was captured. The magic potion, or all the stuff in the follicle, is then sucked out and goes into what? A test tube! Who knew! It brings new meaning to test tube baby! Then, Dr. Clark, our embryologist is right behind the "helm" with a huge incubator with a microscope. Everytime a test tube fills up, he puts it into a petri dish and lets Dr. Weldon know if there's an egg or not. He does a little "shout out" to the helmsman..."we have a mature egg", "nothing here", "another mature egg"...it was like playing the egg lottery! Dr. Weldon would pop a folly and say that this one was small and we probably wouldn't find anything and then unexpectedly...a mature egg (that, my friends, is my over-achiever wife at her prime!).
After the eggs were in a dish, the embryologist would let me look through the microscope to see the egg. He gave the very technical explanation (using all words that were completely outside my vernacular) but super cool, none the less. I want you to stop and think about this, about the gravity of this. I am seeing an egg from my wife's ovaries. An egg in the most smallest, premature state. Yet, I could potentially be staring at what could become our child. That is amazing to me in a way that words cannot express. I mean, who gets to do that??? Who gets to see that part the baby making process? I was just awestruck.
Anyway, so, in all, my little tiny 95 lb. wife who is the epitome of an overachiever, created twelve eggs. A frigging dozen!!! Which is a good thing, our fertility doctor is a little particular about always ending up with an even number...I tremble to think what would have happened if he only found eleven!
OK...for the faint at heart, maybe you want to skip to the next paragraph. This one gets a little gross. Remember that three purpose needle? I may have forgotten to mention that it's extremely sharp. While the doctor is putting it into the cervix and guiding it up to the ovaries, it has the potential to "poke" stuff it isn't supposed to poke. We had an ultrasound, but that was aimed primarily at the ovaries, not the path up. So, yea, on the way back in for one of the eggs, it "poked" the inside of her vagina. Not just that, but it poked a vein or artery. What happens when you poke a vein or artery with a really big needle? It bleeds. And this one did. A LOT. I was back by the embryologist looking at the eggsters and when I look up, I see Heidi spread-eagle (hehehe!) but not in a good way. There was blood everywhere. I had a slight moment of internal panic as I muttered, "is this normal?" Really? That was my question? Of course it wasn't normal...apparently I'm not that great in a moment of panic. The embryologist advised I could look away if it was difficult, but yea, that wasn't going to happen. I did not spend years and years honing myself by watching gory and scary movies only to look away at the puddle of blood forming under my wife. Perhaps I should have looked away...anyway, the doctor told me what happened, stuffed a bunch of gauze up there and stopped the bleeding. He tested her blood pressure several times to make sure she didn't loose too much blood and all was right with the world again. Except it was amazingly horrific to see. My poor little Heidi and her vagina. [Insert inappropriate joke here about a little prick in her vagina...LMAO].
So, after the aspiration, Heidi lay still slightly drunk from Demerol while the embryologist takes the eggs to his special egg fertilizing lair (which is really just a special room that's mostly dark and very laboratory-like). Heidi continues to work hard to wake up (she's horrible with any kind of anesthesia...it takes her forever to wake up and she always gets sick). I get instructions from the nurse (I also invite her to my 40th birthday party...it's a multi-tasking kind of day). We shake Heidi a little more...talk a little more about our next appointment. Again, try to wake Heidi up...I told you, she really takes to anesthesia. Finally, the nurse and I slide her panties and pants on over her sleeping legs and stand her up into them. She still has no recollection of this...she also has no recollection of the three times the doctor, nurse and I told her how the procedure went, no recollection of the conversation we had with the nurses in the lobby, maybe a slight recollection of the chocolate shake I bought her on the way home...probably not though.
So, the first huge day was done. Twelve eggs...all that's left is insperminating them (baby daddy is in a vial at in the fertilizing lair). The countdown is on...we need fertilization, no fragmentation, healthy eggs...and we have five days for all of that to happen. I'm pretty sure this will be the longest five days ever...next step: embryo transfer! Fingers crossed, prayers being said, come on babies, you can do it...I saw you! You're strong, you're already loved and we are waiting for you...come on, come on, we know you're ready to have two mommies to love you incredibly!
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