Houston, Take Four (The Last Transfer)

It’s been a whirlwind month and I’m just updating now. We’re back in Houston after I spent the weekend there last month for my ERA procedure. That, with my October transfer, makes this the third visit in about four months. But it’s been cold and snowy in Minnesota, and it’s about 60-70° here, so that’s not too bad.

The ERA Procedure // Friday, January 25th

Let me first tell you about last month when I flew here alone for the ERA. If you remember, my doctor at the clinic in MN hadn’t done this biopsy before and it was getting so stressful trying to find someone who knew what I was talking about, so I cut my losses and paid the money for traveling to Houston to have my doctor here do it. I was going to be taking Ubers and luckily my hotel was within walking distance of a lot of food places, so it was perfect. Plus, my friend C was meeting me at the clinic after my trip from the airport, so that was pretty dang amazing. I traveled with only a backpack since I didn’t want to deal with much more than the bare essentials. I felt sort of like Cheryl Strayed in Wild, only I was in an upscale hotel and was within walking distance of a Chick-Fil-A. Still, it was an adventure, since the last time I traveled by myself was when Olivia was four months and I flew out to stay with C for a week.

The procedure… Everything I read and what I was told was that it wasn’t as painful as the doctors on the website made it appear. Well. I raise you one wussy girl who can’t handle pain. It pretty much sucked. It hurt. A lot. I was so thankful for a doctor who makes me laugh and for C being there. They told me it would take ten days for the results so C and I drove back to the hotel afterward and proceeded to eat All The Mexican Food and drink All Of The Wine.

Just kidding. We stuffed ourselves with queso and enchiladas, drank two glasses of wine and were asleep by 9:30. But it was so much fun. She left for home the next morning and I hung out in the hotel the rest of the day catching up on some work. I found a Pei Wei to eat lunch at and a Subway to bring home a wrap. I actually think it was refreshing getting some time away. Somebody was VERY glad to have her mama back when I got back that Sunday.

The Results

I found out a week and a half ago that the results had come back as “receptive” meaning that my timing for progesterone was where it should be. It’s disappointing, but I guess I know and I don’t have to look back and regret I didn’t look into it. What my doctor did do, however, was time my progesterone to my transfer. My transfer was scheduled for 9:00 am Thursday February 21st, so my progesterone was to be taken at 8:00 in the morning daily until transfer starting six days beforehand. So it’s something and I’m grateful for that.

Olivia has been Very Interested in my shots and since I had to do them in the morning with Chris, she loved being there. holding my hand, her own little syringe clutched in her fist. She would always say, “I give you your shot, Mama,” when Chris would be prepping the injection behind me, but I would make her come to the front of me where I could see her and she was happy holding my hand.

Houston: Take Four

Tuesday night // Feb 19th

We flew into Houston for embryo transfer #4 at about 9:00 at night and got an Uber to the hotel. This was one we got on Priceline where we’d get a deal of $53/night, but we didn’t know which of the four hotels in the vicinity we’d get. We ended up with the one I felt so-so about, but I thought it would be fine. They were supposed to have a free breakfast so that would also save on some costs.

It turned out to be nothing like I thought. In fact, it was a total craphole. I mean, if this was a vacation where we were out and about all day and only slept there, that would be one thing, but when I thought of living there for the next four days… I couldn’t do it. Not when I was supposed to be exuding positivity and relaxation. So that triggered phone calls up through 11:30 at night trying to find another hotel nearby that would take us that night. After several back and forths with unhelpful people at Priceline, even causing my normally stoic and patient-to-the-point-of-annoying husband to hang up on them, we settled on a hotel nearby that was super nice and $200 a night. Our expenses for the hotel stay was originally at $200 and it became more like almost $800. I just didn’t know what else to do and was already feeling the stress creeping in. So we spent the night there, woke and showered the next morning, and headed down to see what breakfast they had.

Wednesday // Feb 20th

It took us a few tries to find it. Their “free breakfast” was nothing more than a little shelf of coffee, hot chocolate, and some Nature Valley granola bars that were almost gone. So much for the “We have a selection of muffins and bars” we were told at the front desk the night before. The only reason I thought it was hysterical was that I knew we’d be leaving that day. I grabbed two of the bars and we hung out in the hotel room until 10:30. I receive my phone call from the surgery center confirming my appointment the next day for transfer, along with the instructions, so we were good to go. Then we started walking to the taco place we had eaten at last time.

That was another misadventure. We actually had to cross until the interstate which meant walking past eleventy billion cars, under the overpass where the homeless camps are, and walking along side the three lane highway next to the interstate. Normally, I would do it without a problem, but again, positivity, low stress, relaxation.

“You told me this place was ‘just the down the road,'” I shouted to him, “If I would have known this was the route I would have just taken an Uber!” Not that I was shouting because I was upset, though I was, but because I had to talk over the traffic.

We got there and ordered quesadillas, tacos, rice and beans, and queso and chips. We almost ate it all and it was delicious. Then we walked (back under the underpass) to the giant mall about two blocks from our hotel. We spend the day there walking around and I bought Olivia some adorable summer clothes from Nordstrom Rack that were on clearance. Then we walked back to our hotel, grabbed our stuff and checked out, and called an Uber to take us to the next hotel a few minutes away. I’m sure the Uber driver thought this was hilarious. This hotel was so much nicer, though. I knew I could easily spend the rest of the week here.

That night we ate at Cheesecake Factory, took our cheesecake home and sat outside by the fire. No one was out there with us because this is Texas and everyone probably thought it was too cold, but when you’re from Minneapolis and the air temp was 6° back home, it was perfect for us.

Thursday // Feb 21st // Transfer Day

The next morning we were up at 6:00 since I needed to shower and eat before I needed to be there at 8:00. We had some food brought in for snacks and breakfast from Prime Now last night, so we had yogurt and bagels. I was supposed to drink “two bottles of water” which they had always told me, but I wished they could have given it to me in ounces since I didn’t have any Aquafina on me. I used my water bottle I had brought which was maybe 30 oz. I packed my Motrin to take with, we did my progesterone shot, I took my medications, and we started watching the Uber app. The clinic was less than ten minutes away, so when we found a car six minutes out, Chris confirmed it. It immediately jumped to 16 minutes, and I watched in dismay as I saw the arrival time to the clinic jump from 8:01 am to 8:12.

We headed down to the lobby to wait and I was starting to freak out. I called the clinic and told them we’d be running about 15 minutes late which they said was fine. But we didn’t end up getting there until 8:25. Then we sat in the waiting room for another 25 minutes until they called me back. Meanwhile, I’m still freaking out. In fact, now I’m in tears and texting C and she’s telling me to calm down, that they do this all the time, and they probably moved someone up in my place.

Chris always would come back with me to the pre-op room where we’d change into the surgical attire together and wait for the doctor. This time they just called me back which I still am confused about because nothing was different about what they had me do. I got my vitals taken, changed, and went over paperwork with the nurse. Our doctor came in really quick for me to sign off on the embryos and left again. They were opening the curtains and someone was asking about Chris getting back there. Finally, he came and threw on his garb while the nurses waited for us. Again, I’m not sure why they did it this way, but this was always the time we took a picture together and gathered our thoughts.

I did get to see the picture of my embryo’s and whew. They’re little beauties.

Well, there was no thought-gathering that day. We were ushered into the transfer suite with questions if I thought my bladder was full. I said yes, but it didn’t feel any fuller than it usually was for this. I made a mental note to myself to grab a picture when we were in the recovery room.

I got situated on the table and then everyone waited around for the doctor. I met the embryologist and confirmed we were transferring two embryos. Mostly, we waited around. Then a guy came in to check my bladder and he pressed down HARD. I made a face to Chris and tried to deep breath because it hurt so bad. Yes, I had a very full bladder, they all said.

Our doctor comes in and cracks his usual jokes and I laugh and breathe and try to relax. Then the guys pressed on my bladder again. In hindsight, it’s possible my bladder was too full and that was actually the pain from it, but guys, I was dying. It hurt so bad and finally I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Could you maybe ease up a little?” I asked him, “I feel like you’re pressing really hard.” He apologizes and backs up. The ultrasound of my pelvic area still looked the same, but I wasn’t having the intense pain. Until he leaned on it again.

“Can you back off again?” I asked, not so gently this time. He backed off and I looked at Chris, tears coming to my eyes. The nurse I was with said something about my bladder being full, and I said to her, “I know, but he’s also just pressing harder than I’m normally used to.” She rubs my arm. I resisted shrugging it away.

“I know this can be scary,” she said. I’m so hopped up on hormones. I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling her to fuck off. I’m not scared. He was hurting me.

By the third time, he was pressing the probe into my abdomen so hard I’m openly crying, tears streaming down my cheeks and my stomach heaving from holding my breath.

“You’re pressing way harder than you need to,” I finally snapped at him. The doctor calls us to break so I can use the bathroom.

“We do this all the time,” the second nurse tells me, kindly. She helps me up and I’m trying to blink back tears. She helps me to the bathroom and tells me my bladder is just really full. We pause at the door to the bathroom.

“I feel fine now, and when he was pressing normally it didn’t hurt,” I told her, “I’ve done seven embryo transfers, this isn’t my first one. I know how it’s supposed to feel.”

She agrees with me and said she’ll talk to him. I shut the door and burst into tears. Then I can’t stop because I’m trying to make myself stop and horrified with myself for flooding my body with all these negative hormones.

I remember my second IVF was like this. Crying during my transfer and leaking negative energy. It didn’t end well. So I pee a little, counting to 5 Mississippi like the doctor said and peeing a little more, worried I’d pee too much and they’d have to put a catheter in me. I came out and the nurse led me back. I got back on the table, we got everything all positioned again and situated and I noticed a new woman at my side who would be doing the ultrasound probe. Fine.

My doctor started up again and the woman pressed the probe on my bladder, so much more gentle this time I might add, and there’s some silence as he’s assessing if he can visualize my uterus on the screen. No. I’m still too full. Before I can ask him if I need to go back to the bathroom again he said we needed to put in a catheter to let some urine out.

I look around wildly and my eyes land on Chris. I’m a nurse. I’ve also had a catheter with my C-section with Olivia and I was asleep for it. Cathing someone while they’re awake kind of sucks. I kept shaking my head as my doctor tells me I’ll feel a pinch and then it’ll be over and I’ll feel relief. I grab Chris’s hand and there’s an explosion of pain. It fucking hurt. I lost it then and broke into sobs. The first nurse keeps rubbing my arm every once in a while, because she probably didn’t know what to say. The other nurse is at my head. “It’ll be OK, it’s over, you’re OK.” And I’m still sobbing and I can’t stop. I couldn’t believe this was how my final transfer was going to go.

“No offense Dr. G, but this is the worst transfer I’ve ever had.” Everyone laughed and my doctor laughed and said he was personally hurt by that, so I guess no one thought I was a complete mess.

After what seemed like forever, my bladder emptied enough for him to be able to see my uterus the best.

“Ok, you’re going to feel another pinch and it’ll be out,” he said. Another explosion of pain. This time I shrieked out loud and broke into fresh tears all over again.

“Stop! Just stop, I’m done!” I wanted to scream. Maybe if I wasn’t eating estrogen and shooting up progesterone and was at the climax of my fertility journey and literally everything was fucking riding on this transfer, things would have been different. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so painful and maybe I wouldn’t have been hyper-emotional. But I couldn’t stop because I had two babies to transfer so I had to pull it together and get through this.

The rest of the transfer physically went off without a hitch. He was able to place them and everything went perfect. I watched the screen as they went in, wiping my eyes every few seconds because my body decided it wasn’t done leaking tears and all I could think about was, this never would be happening if we weren’t late. If we got there on time, my bladder wouldn’t have gotten so full, I wouldn’t have been like an animal in pain and hey! no catheter would have been needed.

The last I saw of my doctor, the man who gave me my beautiful Olivia, I was red-eyed, still crying, and said a small goodbye to him for fear of setting myself off again, and I was wheeled to recovery. I’ll never see him again unless I come back to the clinic to visit. That, in and of itself is so unfair. My blood pressure was 190/110 (wonder why) and the nurse left us for five minutes to calm down. Then I was allowed to go back to the bathroom to pee. Where I burst into tears again once I was alone. I was so mad at myself for not being able to stop which of course makes it all worse.

I continued to wipe away tears as I was wheeled out to the front entrance, got into the Uber and was driven back the hotel. The only thing that distracted me enough was watching an episode of Wife Swap and eating tacos, chips and queso from Torchy’s Tacos once we got back.

Best rest had began.