For me, a new baby is the ultimate dream. For Mr G there is the fear of forever groundhog day typed time warpedness, a conveyor belt from which he can never escape. Dollar signs wave in front of his eyes. He nervously wonders aloud if he'll still be having babies in the years to come, with all his future wives. He seems resigned to the fact we are doing this, but he also seems a lot more positive that the end result will be a baby. I'm almost too scared to believe. The whole IVF process is quite complicated but the specifics are something that we both seem keen to avoid. For me anxiety creeps in with reality and I am trying very hard to stay nice and calm. I'm taking a bit by bit approach, pinsteps as it were, knowing that I'm in with a grin and will do whatever it takes but I'll ride the wave of procedure without studying it too much in advance. Mr G is quite similar in that he doesn't really want to know. He's a man seemingly resigned by duty: he'll sign where I tell him to sign and he'll do what he needs to do. He doesn't seem to want to know or talk about it.
As I understand it, what today we are signing up for is as follows:
1. For approximately ten days I am going to inject myself with a VERY expensive drug called Gonal F to stimulate egg production. We normally would have started with two to three weeks of Buserelin injections to suppress ovarian function. Due to Adenomyosis and Endometriosis nightmares, however, I have been on Zolodex injections for the past ten months. The Zolodex has performed the same function as the Buserelin would in regular ivf patients.
2. After ten days of Gonal F, I shall inject myself with Ovidrel to ready the eggs even further for collection, exactly 36 hours prior to such collection.
3. Mr G and I shall both attend the day surgery together where I shall be mildly sedated and given iv pain killers to allow my eggs to be surgically collected in, apparently, a horrid procedure. Mr G shall undergo "Surgical Sperm Retrieval" where, due to his vasectomy, he shall have secret sperm syringed from his testes under local anaesthetic. It sounds awful, but he will be able to drive me home. I shall feel miserable for some time.
4. The collected eggs, if any, shall be put in petrie dishes with the collected sperm and hopefully they shall fertilise themselves. If not, one sperm shall be injected into each collected egg. Hopefully they will fertilise.
5. After a few days, if luck and fertility are on our side, an embryo will be put in my uterus using a syringey tubey thing.
6. I will then be given Utrogestan to take daily (or deposit daily) to encourage my uterus to keep the baby.
7. We wait and hope and pray to the Baby Gods.
So that, I think, is the procedure in a nutshell. It comes with scans and blood tests and monitoring and angst. Already we have both undertaken some tests. We have been screened for HIV, Hepatitis B and C and a few other nasties. I also gave what seemed like litres of blood for various hormonal blood tests in tube after tube after tube. Apparently it was not as much blood as it looked. I also have had to undergo a routine cervical smear which is never pleasant. When you have a cervix attached to a uterus as covered in endometriosis and riddled with adenomyosis as mine, however, it pretty much feels like it was performed with a bread knife and the rest of the day involves pain killers. As with any smear there is a worry of cancer. On this occassion I asked my GP to keep any cancerous cells to herself. It's not that I'm not worried about cancer but I am very worried that the IVF journey won't be started. Thankfully I got the all clear.
I have also been shown how to inject myself. I have practised with a sort of epipen which seems quite easy and not too frightening. If the needle goes in my tummy as easily as it did in the fake tummy then we'll be away laughing. I may never have mentioned the fact I faint with blood, wounds, mystery body fluids and any mention of any of the same. For some bizarre reason this doesn't extend to needles. I'm not scared of this part. Apparently I am an anomaly.
In a few hours Mr G and I are meeting with my specialist. We are going to sign consent forms which get us the drugs and onto the programme. As I have said, we both seem rather anxious but for different reasons and it's really not something we're talking about. We are able to go to counselling sessions as part of the build up but I don't want to force it on Mr G. I know this is not something that he wants to do and having a baby is not something he wants to have. He just wants to make me happy. I love him for this, although I wish it was something we were more relaxed with each other about. I also wonder if the fact he is doing this is enough, I shouldn't expect him to actively support me through the process as well. Not that he won't be there to pick up the emotional roller coaster that is me, I mean seriously, what is a man to do when his wife bursts into tears all the time other than give her a cuddle and say "there there". So I suppose that is all I will need. In the reverse, it's not like I am being overly supportive of his feelings. He doesn't want to do this but I don't care. No, it's not that I don't care, it's just that I want this more than he doesn't want it. And if this doesn't work I don't only not get a baby. I need a hysterectomy as well.
Among the consents we need to sign today are some almighty decisions to be made on the "what ifs". That is IF we end up with more than one embryo, IF one of us should die before they are used, IF we do not use them, what do we consent to doing with them. It's a lot of decisions to be made before the embryos exist and the answers depend, for me, entirely on the success of the IVF cycle we are about to undertake. I have the agreement for one baby from my husband. I will never get permission for a second but nor do I have an urge for three children, nor the time with my uterus regardless. I am happy as long as it works. What I need to make sure of is that should, after "Collection Day" Mr G get hit by a bus, I still want to proceed with the cycle. Mr G remains a little nervous.
One baby is one thing for Mr G to contend with. He is resigned in his acceptance that we may just get one. I think that he'll love it. What he is not remotely willing to entertain, even the slightest possibility, is that any additional embryos with turn into children in any way, shape or form that can come back to haunt him. I think he sees fields of wee Gingers demanding from him money for the rest of his life. While I am ok with donating any extra embryos for ethical research, the risk for him is too great that they would be stolen by hoards of evil women seeking to impregnate themselves just to spite him. I think we'll be ticking the box "discard them", and I guess that's ok by me. Of course when I say that I am hoping like crazy that I get my wee baby the first time. We haven't discussed the 'what ifs' if I don't and I'm thinking we're better off focusing on the positive.
So off I go to start my journey. And I'm ever so grateful to my beautiful, lovely husband who gave into my tears and more tears and more tears and is going to do this with me. For me.
http://www.fertilityassociates.co.nz/
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