For the Love of Larri: Where'd The Words Go?

I’m not really sure what happened but somehow I lost them. I felt like I was cruising along again with the blog business during out cycle of IVF but halfway thru it I lost steam. The words just weren’t there. I’m not so sure they are back yet but I ended up taking a peek to see exactly how long it had been since I posted. I was sad. Sad that I stopped journaling the experience I was going through. I’ve tried to remember some of the other steps we went through with the whole thing and details are missing and it bothers me. I’m not sure why, but it does. I’m going to try and get down what I can remember before I forget even more. So here we go, my third attempt at this whole blog shenanigans.

We’ll start the day after my last post. Thursday November 6^th, transfer day. We arrived at the hospital and as instructed; while in the parking lot I took the valium I was prescribed. Valium you ask? They prescribe it to help you relax and make the whole thing more bearable. Man was I relaxed! Like 6 beers deep RELAXED, and it didn’t take long to kick in.

We checked in and were quickly escorted to our pre/post-op room. I was given a gown and J was given some paper scrubs complete with booties and a face mask. We got dressed, I climbed into the bed under the covers and the waiting began. That’s when the valium kicked in. Then someone handed me my phone. I hold them entirely responsible for what happened next.

You want me to what? She's totally lost it.

Haha, but no. Seriously, for the scrap book.

The Whaaaat???

YEAH!!

J played along but I’m pretty sure he was relieved when they came to get us. They wheeled me to the same room as on retrieval day and I was asked to get into the same torcher chair. I got up into it this time without breaking anything, which when you consider the fact that I was essentially drunk, is pretty impressive. That’s when Captain actually tortured me.

In order for the transfer to go smoothly you have to have a really full bladder. I was drinking lots of water as I was instructed, and I tried as hard as I could to hold it, but somewhere between selfies I just couldn’t do it anymore. Feeling all wild and rebellious I gave myself permission to pee. J warned me but I was in that place you reach after you’ve had about 19 beers where you know everything and your spouse knows nothing. You know the place, it’s right between, “taking my shoes off will totally increase my dancing abilities”, and, “I CAN TOO WALK HOME!! Five miles is NOT THAT FAR!!” You know how on those nights you're almost never right? Yeah, I wasn’t right that morning either.

Since my bladder was completely empty Captain had to fill it for me. I’m talking in through the out-door filling. No amount of valium could have made that OK. It was basically the worst thing ever. After that, she threaded a catheter into my uterus and push out the tinny embryos. Then, because she wasn’t actually trying to torture me, she emptied my bladder. It was in the nick-of-time too because I swear I was about to pee all over her.

I was wheeled back into the pre/post-op room and told I would need to lay flat for 45 minutes. I ~~took a nap~~ totally passed out. Then the nurse woke me up and J went to get the car. We were told to report back nine days later for a blood test to see if our little beans decided to make a comfy home in my uterus and set up shop for the next nine months. I was wheeled down to the door, put into the car, and off we went. As soon as we got home I was ordered to bed, J wasn't going to take any more of my crap. But then I was awake so more of this had to happen.