Transfer Time!

 
Yesterday, Tuesday, June 26th was my egg transfer!  The girls and I awoke early to report to the Barbados Fertility Centre by 7:15am.  Once there, I left the girls in the waiting room while I met an acupuncturist in an exam room for a 30-40 minute session before my procedure.  

The acupuncturist was from a local healing clinic just down the street from BFC.  From the little research I've done, it appears to be one of two clinics on the entire island.  The Integrated Natural Health Clinic contracts with BFC to promote a well-rounded approach to IVF treatment, treating the mind, spirit and body. 

I hadn't planned on scheduling acupuncture, but I was very glad I did.  I've been undergoing acupuncture treatment at home for the last year and a half and my mind and body has had a great response.  Today proved to do the same.  In one of the exam room's at the clinic, Suzette, a very tall, slender Chinese woman with a British accent, pricked my skin with several needles on my head, wrists, ankles, calves and belly.  While the needles were in she played soothing, meditative music while doing some reiki and shakra balancing.

At first it was a little difficult to settle down, but when she gently, yet firmly pressed several points on the bottom of my feet, I eased into a more relaxing state.  It was nice to feel the warmth of her hands in the air conditioned exam room as they traveled over my body, reading its energy.  She stayed with me the entire session, only interrupting me once to remind me to continue drinking water, as I needed to have a very full bladder for the procedure.

When the session was over, I felt rejuvenated, relaxed and a lot more energetic.  I was excited to get on with the procedure.  Or, was that the full bladder getting me moving and making me do the potty dance?  When the front desk clerk saw me pacing back and forth in the waiting room, she came up to me and asked me if I would like to "take a pee," as they call it here for "1,2,3 and then stop?"  Yes, please!  She made me promise only to three and then stop - I was off down the hallway!  Ok, maybe it was 1,2,3...stop then 4,5,6...and 7.  I couldn't resist it felt so good!  It was all good though, because even after the rebellious 7 second pee, my bladder still felt full.

Next was my quick consultation with Dr. Skinner in her office.  Using a useful, laminated chart detailing the different stages of egg development, she showed me what my little eggies looked like when they were removed, what they looked like when they fertilized and as they are currently.  When first retrieved, the eggs simply look like a clear, circular cell.  When fertilized, two smaller circles, or cells appear in the center, then over a few days, those cells multiply - four, six, eight.  Cells that have divided to 6 and 8 are optimal.  The good news, Dr. Skinner, noted was that of my three fertilized eggs, one had divided to 6 and the other 8 - yay!  The third was still at 4, and because of this, she recommended transferring all three eggs into my uterus.  There was still a chance that the "4" could catch up, but seeing as how it was a bit behind the others, she felt comfortable transferring all three. 

After having me sign a document agreeing to the transfer of all three eggs, Dr. Skinner went on to then explain the steps of the procedure.  Using a wooden placard of a uterus resting on her desk, she explained that a catheter would be placed just beyond the entrance of the cervix and the eggs would be released directly into my womb.  It sounded very similar to the insemination process at home, only the catheter did not enter the womb and it was carrying the sperm, not the eggs.  It sounded simple enough and I was relieved to know that I would be awake for the entire procedure and it was not necessary to be put under anesthesia. 

After our brief consult, I was lead into the recovery room, where nurse, Tracie, took me behind a curtain and asked me to change into a similar blue gown, hat and booties I wore on Saturday for the retrieval.  Once changed, I entered the "theatre," the operating room, and Tracie assisted me in getting into the proper position on the blue, cushioned chair.  My legs were elevated, with stirrups propping up my calves, just below the back of my knees.  My bum had to slide all the way down to the end of the chair, practically falling off.  After lying back, Tracie reclined the chair so that I was practically inverted - legs in the air, head aimed toward to ground and of course, legs spread eagle - very attractive.  In this way, I was left for what felt like an embarrassing eternity until the doctor arrived.

The doctor disappeared behind the blue sheet covering my legs, I could barely see the top of her blonde, highlighted head.  Instead, my focus was on the sonogram screen, which was used to look into my womb throughout the procedure.  Tracie glided the lubricated sono device over my belly and discovered a very full bladder, which both doc and nurse were pleased to see, as it allows them to identify the uterus easier and makes the placement of the eggs more precise.  Surprisingly, the pressure of the sono wand was by far the most painful experience of the procedure as it was pressed firmly into my belly, right upon my extremely full bladder!  That coupled with the fact that I was in an inverted yoga-like position made it difficult for me to breathe easily and focus on much more than how much I wanted to go to the bathroom...until I saw them...

My breathing leveled and I forgot about the discomfort once I saw the slim, whitish line of the catheter on the screen, followed by three whitish blobs.  At first I thought they were just flickers of light from the screen, until the doc confirmed that the three little blobs were the eggs entering the womb.  And then there they were, a little cluster of eggies resting together in the center of my womb.  They were actually in there!  So fascinating!  I got a little black and white picture printed from the sono machine.  I feel like a proud mama already - except they're eggies, not quite a baby yet.  Hehe.  Still, if felt good to see them in there, knowing that they had successfully made it this far.  Who knows if the egg/sperm of my previous inseminations ever made the journey to my uterus?  I'll never know.   
   
Excited to see the little guys in there and to have had a successful procedure, I was helped out of the awkward position and directed out of the theatre and back to the curtain where I changed back into my street clothes.  As I heard a snoring patient on the other side of the curtain, quite possibly, someone who was resting after their retrieval, I was thankful to not have to walk out like a zombie this time.  Instead, I walked out comfortably, no pain or wooziness whatsoever, to the exam room where Suzette was waiting to complete the acupuncture session.

For another 1/2 hour, Suzette performed acupuncture, reiki and shakra balancing once more, this time to music of moving water (Which would have been downright evil during the first session, with a full bladder!)  She placed needles in the same areas as the first session, but when she started to place several in my chest, between my breasts and in between my ribs, I asked how she determined where to place needles.  Were there certain areas typical for patients like me undergoing IVF or were they individualized?  Both, she responded.  

The head, wrists, ankles, legs and belly were all procedural.  The others, making a trail from my chest down the middle of my torso, those were just for me.  She explained that while performing reiki on me, she sensed a lot of tightness, constriction and stagnation in the area.  This area is associated with emotions, leading her to believe I've been holding in my emotions, not expressing myself and dealing with a lot of conflict.  Well, she certainly called me out!  

This is a problem that my own acupuncturist has been working on with me at home.  It's certainly a pattern that troubles me - not expressing my feelings and shutting down.  Not trying to name excuses (ok, maybe a few)...this definitely has been an emotional experience and I do close down.  Sometimes I open up if people ask how I'm doing, but I usually won't offer on my own.  Maybe it's an only child thing - I never had a sibling around to share, yell or express myself with?  I was brought up to be very reserved and sharing fuzzy warm feelings just wasn't the norm in my family.  Also, I never like to have the spotlight on me.  I don't want conversation or the moment to be all about me.  And that's been true even more so while on vacation here in Barbados.  My girls are here to of course support me, but I don't want every waking moment to be about me, my drama, my eggies and God forbid my wailing woes.  No, this should be a vacation for them as well, and I don't want to be a party pooper.  

So, yeah there's a few excuses for my shut down behavior. I know my girls are shaking their head, tisk tisking me as they read this.  Hey, what can I say, I'm a work in progress.  Anyhow, the acupuncturist stressed that releasing this area of tension was something, "I need to work on."  And she said this with the utmost seriousness, stern faced expression.  She recommended a few things I could do and foods to eat.  I was grateful for her advice and honesty and very thankful I decided to undergo acupuncture while here.  

After my acupuncture session, there was one final meeting with the nurse Tracie, in which the girls also shuffled into her office to attend.  Like Tetris, the three of us wiggled and rearranged ourselves to fit into the small office with only two visitor chairs.  Squeezed onto the chairs like a bench, we listened as Tracie explained next steps and I asked a few final questions.  Basically from here, I take it easy, continue my meds and take a pregnancy test in two weeks.  

After our morning at the clinic, we went back to our apartment to eat, decompress and rest up.  We made it to the beach (what a surprise) and out to dinner.  The girls are being sure that I'm eating and drinking properly, as I'm rather stubborn and don't want to eat the warm meaty foods that have been recommended (I'm not much of a meat eater).  I'm feeling good, physically and feel a lot lifted, emotionally.  The last few days were quite overwhelming as I awaited the results of the harvesting. Now that that's over, I have different lot of questions swirling in my head - which I'm trying to not stress and future trip over.  Just going to have to do my best to relax, enjoy the island's beauty and do a whole lot of nothing for the next week until I return home!  

I'll be in touch...hopefully with good news. 

Anxious Over My Eggies

The morning after the retrieval, I was up so early I heard the transition from the chirping coqui frogs that play a musical symphony every night here on the island, to the chirping of the early birds rising to the sun.  Again, another restless night.  After tossing and turning and staring in the dark, I rose from bed about 6:30am, fixed myself a cup of tea and sat at the kitchen table.  My eyes shifted back and forth from the digital clock on the microwave to the telephone resting nearby.  I was awaiting the call from the embryologist informing me of the harvesting results.

To pass the time, I read my post-op directions for the millionth time, journaled a bit and wrote out a few postcards.  As I was finishing up my third postcard, the shrill phone ring broke the early morning silence.  Startled, I jumped from my seat, grabbed my paper work and darted to the phone.  On the other end of the receiver was a very faint, distant voice drowned out by the poor reception and multiple fans rotating in the kitchen and living room.  Pressing the receiver firmly to my ear, I listened intently as the embryologist explained that three of the four eggs had harvested successfully.  

I wanted to leap for joy and die at the same time. I was happy and relieved that my worst fear - that none of the eggs would harvest - was put to rest.  I was joyous to hear that three eggs had harvested successfully!  At the same time, I was devastated to hear that the fourth was not viable.  What happened???  I wanted to know.  Did it not survive the night?  Did it puncture when they tried to inject the sperm?  Do eggs puncture???  What did they do with the non-viable egg?  Does it go into waste?  Is there a special place that lost eggies go?  All these questions raced in my head the mere moments I was on the phone with the embryologist.  Silly questions I told myself.  Focus on the good and let's move on.

Just as I thought we were in the clear and the next details she would share with me would be the time and day of my transfer, she explained that someone would call me tomorrow morning to tell me how the three would get on over the next 24 hours...then they would inform me of the date and time of the transfer.  What!?  More waiting time?  I thought this was it!?  You mean to say these three are still at risk?

After hanging up, I returned to my seat at the kitchen table.  Not too sure if I should be joyous or worried.  I think the worry factor took over.  Serena asked how the phone call went and as I explained the news she sensed I wasn't ok.  I had a meltdown.  Scared, worried, overwhelmed.  The numbers keep getting smaller.  At the beginning of the week we were looking at 7 potentials on the sonograms, then 6.  Saturday, the docs were only able to retrieve 4 and now only three of those four were able to be harvested!?  AND, we still have another 24 hours!?  What if those three don't make it!?  I realized I wasn't out of the clear and panic set in.  

And there was nothing I could do.  I felt so helpless.  I wanted to run to the clinic, see my little eggies, talk to them sweetly, encourage them, cheer them on, let them know how important this was to me.  I wanted to stand over, protect them, make sure the utmost care was given to them.  My little gems.  But there was nothing I could do.  Except be thankful that they made it this far, pray for the best and try not to future trip.  The girls consoled me, took care of me and did their best to get me out of my head.  We spent the day at the beach, which was a nice escape.  So thankful to have them here with me!


Fast forward 24 hours...again, I awake early, head to my spot in the kitchen and my eyes dart back and forth like a tennis match between the clock and telephone.  I recall the dream that kept me up in the middle of the night - I received the phone call from the embryologist who matter of factually informed that none of the eggs had survived the night and that this was the end of the line and good luck.  What!?  The dream me was hysterical and demanded answers of how this could possibly happen.  There was confrontation, choice words exchanged and a lot of manic behavior - all on my part.  An ugly me.  Ugh, an ugly dream - nightmare.  


20 minutes after the scheduled time, the phone rang, it was Emma, the nurse.  She informed me that the eggs were doing fine and we are ready to take the next step - the transfer!  Phew!  Oh goodness, what a relief!  They made it through the night, my little troopers!  Emma went over procedures to follow before the transfer - arrive wearing comfortable clothing, absolutely no fragrances or perfume and I must drink at least a liter of water an hour before the procedure, as the docs can see images better on a full bladder.  I scheduled my acupuncture appointment with her as well - 1/2 hour before the procedure, followed by 1/2 hour after.  I've been undergoing acupuncture treatment for almost a year and half and have had great results, physically and mentally, so I thought this would be an opportune time to have another session.


So, tomorrow morning is the transfer.  I'm excited and nervous.  Got an early morning ahead of me, so time to get some rest.  Hoping for a restful night!  Blog again soon!

    

Retrieval Time!

June 23, 2012

Whoa, what a day.  Where to begin? 

After a very restless sleep, amounting to possibly only two hours of rest, Chrissy and I awoke to an alarm for the first time since we've been in Barbados.  We were to report to Barbados Fertility Centre at 7:30am to prep for the egg retrieval at 8am.  Tired and thirsty, since my last gulp of water was at 11:45pm the night before, (just making it in before my midnight cut off time), we were let into the clinic by nurse Anna, already donning scrubs.

Since it was Saturday, the friendly ladies at the front desk were not present to greet us. Anna said we could follow her to the recovery room to get prepped right away.  She showed us to a gurney covered in linen at the far end of the room, against a wall.  Atop the gurney was a blue gown, cap and booties for me to change into.  She pulled the curtain to give us privacy and I changed into the, oh so flattering attire. 

Emma, the nurse who administered my Intralipid treatment a few days ago came moments later to take my blood pressure and go over post-op directions.  As she came to page two, detailing the next day's protocol, I started to feel nauseous and woozy.  Having a hard time focusing on the paper work while sitting up on the gurney, I asked if I could lie down...

The next thing I remember was a shaking image of Emma's face before me, my hand in hers, as she called out my name and urged me to take deep breathes.  I could feel my body convulsing, my eyes locked on Emma, but I couldn't get my body to stop shaking.  Though it must have just been a moment, the shaking felt like it went on forever. 

As I gained full consciousness, I was able to focus on Emma's words.  I focused on my breathing, while trying to understand what had just happened.  For a moment I thought the procedure was over and I was coming out of my sedated state.  Wow, so quick, I thought to myself!  Then as my eyes focused even more, I became aware of Chrissy by my side as she was when we were going over the post-op directions.  It wasn't over.  In fact, we hadn't even got started yet!  Good grief!

What exactly happened, I have no idea.  Whatever it was, it happened again after the procedure, back at the apartment, several hours after the procedure.  Sitting at the kitchen table, again, trying to read the post op directions, I started to feel light headed and dizzy again.  Just as I was thinking I need to go lie down again, I see Chrissy out of the corner of my eye, bent over, looking me in the face, her hand on my back and arm.  I'm shaking again.  And I can't stop.  I hear Chrissy calling, "Tan" in a sense of urgency and I realize it's happening again.  In my head I'm panicking because I don't have control and can't stop the shaking.  When will it end?  And then, just as it ceased this morning, the shaking finally stopped, my vision became clear and I was in a state of wonderment and shock - what the heck happened? 

Did I faint?  Seize?  Go into shock?  Don't know.  The nurse explained that one of the medications I was taking in pill form often makes women nauseas and dizzy.  She gave me an alternative method of taking future doses - hope that works out because I'm not looking forward to having another moment like that.  And, I'm sure Chrissy isn't either.  I'm sure it gave her a bit more than a scare to see me in such a state (two times) and to see my eyes have an expression, as she describes, as "not there."

Well, back to the recovery room.  After I had my breathing under control, my vision back, and was lying comfortably, the nurses had a brief meeting before my procedure was scheduled.  Chrissy and I were left behind the curtain for a bit, awe struck at what had just happened.  Overwhelming emotions took over and tears dripped down the sides of my face, gracing my ears.  Thankfully, Chrissy was there to hold my hand, caress my cap covered head and speak to me gently.  I appreciated the moment and was grateful for the time to release, as I didn't want to head into the "theatre," as they call the surgery room, with tears streaming from my eyes.

Luckily, I had the crying and my breathing under control by the time Dr. Skinner came to listen to my breathing.  Anna returned next and asked me to rise from the gurney and empty my bladder before the procedure.  I made it ok to the bathroom and when I exited Chrissy was there waiting to give me one more hug before I went into the theatre. 

Once in the theater, a reclining blue, cushioned chair, draped in a protective cover sat next to a sonogram machine, very much like the ones used for my sonos on previous days.  The only difference however, was the stirrups.  Instead of stirrups to rest my feet in, there were wider stirrups that I placed my calves in, which elevated my legs.  After settling in, Anna wrapped and velcroed my left arm with a plastic arm band to monitor my heart rate, while Dr. Skinner inserted my IV on the right arm.  I was introduced to the embryologist, who asked my name and birth.  Dr. Skinner announced that I would have a bitter taste in my mouth just as she started the anesthesia, and sure enough, instantaneously, I did.  The last thing I remember was staring at a light...

And then awaking again to Emma's voice, behind the curtain, on the gurney, in the recovery room again.  This time it was really over.  Other than feeling as if I had come out of a really deep sleep (which I had), I felt fine.  Emma gave me a cup of water - the first sip of liquid in over 8 hours.  My vitals were taken and Chrissy entered, yay!  I rested a bit more and slowly got dressed.  A taxi arrived to pick us up at the back door of the recovery room to take us the short distance around the block.

The whole procedure took about 15-20 minutes, though the time it took me to recover was just over an hour.  The embryologist was able to extract four eggs.  I was of course hoping for several more, but am happy that they were able to successfully take four.  I will find out tomorrow morning how many eggs they were able to harvest.  I'm praying for all four.  And am dreading to hear none at all.  I can't possibly imagine the devastation I may feel should I hear that news.  Ugh, ok can't think about that.  Must keep positive and hopeful and grateful for a successful procedure.

The remainder of my day was spent sleeping, resting and shuffling back and forth to the bathroom.  I've got a bit of abdominal cramping on my left side, very much like menstrual cramps and my head feels a bit heavy, like I'm recovering from flu like symptoms.  As the day goes on, I feel more alert and less zombie like.  Chrissy has been taking great care of me, assisting with my meds, fixing me treats to eat and making sure I'm hydrated.  We're awaiting Reen, who should be arriving any moment now.  Hoping to feel 100% normal tomorrow, receive good news from the embryologist and return to the beach and Yemaya.          

More news soon...

They're All Grown Up!

6-21-12

Today was my second visit to the clinic.  The purpose of the visit was to perform another sonogram to determine how much my eggs have grown.  Chrissy and I awoke early, had breakfast and video documented my morning injection.  Chrissy has been kind enough to document some of the significant events that I have experienced and endured while on the island.  She has been a brave soul bearing witness to the grotesque mutilation I've imposed upon my body.  We're talking up close and personal footage of the injections in real time!  Coming to a blog near you!  Hmm...maybe not?  I don't think anyone else needs to see all that. 

My poor belly is scattered with bruises of every color - black, blue, purple, green - and speckled with reddish-purple dots pinpointing each injection shot.  It looks as if I have vampire bites along my spare tire and as though (as Chrissy fittingly jokes) a Smurf has been throwing punches at my belly!  Believe me, not a pretty sight!  My first day on the beach exposing the rainbow of colors on my belly, in my two piece, was a little embarrassing...but I'm over it now.  Clexane, a drug to control antibodies running rampant in my body that prevents embryos from implanting is the culprit for all the bruises and pricks.  It's a chubby, little syringe with an apparent potent and lasting needle.

Chrissy and I walked around the block to the clinic and after settling into the exam room, Anna, the nurse, and another woman, whom Anna introduced as a trainee entered.  The trainee performed the sonogram on me, which led to a prolonged state of discomfort as she maneuvered the probe like a joystick throughout my uterus on a treasure hunt for my eggs - literally speaking, haha.  Once found and measured, the final count was 6 eggs that are viable for the taking.  There could even be more on the actual day.

After the sono, Chrissy and I returned to Anna's office to discuss the changes to my medication and to schedule the retrieval, as the eggs all measured 18mm and over - the desired size.  Most importantly, Anna gave me the final meds I would need to take before the retrieval, including a syringe containing a drug to finalize the maturation of the eggs to be taken exactly at 8pm that evening, two different types of pills to assist in controlling hormones and antibodies from attacking the embryo and preventing it from implanting and finally, pills to help fight possible infection due to the invasive procedure.

After the rundown of the meds, Anna explained I would need to fast Friday night and return Saturday morning for the egg retrieval.  The procedure is expected to last 15-20 minutes; all the while I will be under anesthesia.  Since I will need about 1 1/2 hours to recover, Anna suggested Chrissy come back to fetch me around 9:30am.  With my drugs in hand and a sense of overwhelming anxiety brewing within, we were on our way.

Luckily, the only thing we had scheduled for the day was the beach, so I had a lot of time to decompress, relax and wrap my head around the meds schedule - when to take what, how often, how much, with food or not, etc.  I've just about got that all down, but I'm still trying to fight the nervous and anxious feelings revolving around the actual procedure.  What worries me most is "going under."  Forget the fact that they'll be extracting multiple eggs from my uterus!  No, what worries me the most is being put down with anesthesia!  Go figure!  I think seeing the women two days ago at the clinic, post-procedure, waking from their beds and walking out from behind the curtains looking like zombies had a lasting effect on me. 

Not to worry, I will get through this.  I'm happy to be doing this somewhere as relaxing as Barbados and to not have a care in the world, in terms of work, correcting papers and the regular hustle and bustle of home life.  Tomorrow is another free day for Chrissy and I.  We plan to of course, go to the beach and hit up the "Fish Fry" in a town along the coast - apparently the "thing" to do on a Friday night.  I plan to eat real good to last me all evening and the next morning!  I won't get to eat again until after the procedure on Saturday - which will most likely be the next opportunity I'll have to blog!  Until then...   

Let's Get This Over With!

6-20-12

 

Today was an eventful day that started with a taxi ride to Warrens, an inland town, perched on a hill about 20 minutes from where we are staying, in Hastings.  The purpose of the visit to Warrens was to fulfill my required counseling session. 

Before leaving, I was told by Barbados Fertility Centre that since I was using donor sperm, it was required that a counselor sign me off as mentally stable to take on the challenges of raising a child conceived with anonymous donor sperm.  I thought this was absolutely absurd in my case, since I have been trying to conceive for nearly two years and have had oodles of support, therapy and time to consider the challenges.  If I was going to change my mind, I think I would have done so my now!

Well, since I did not have a letter from a professional therapist stating my sanity, I had to suck it up, pay for a private counselor and take a trip out to Warrens.  Chrissy took the ride with me, which turned out to be a great way to see another part of the island.  We arrived at the counselor's residence, a quaint yellow house surrounded by lush foliage.  Chrissy waited in the cool, breezy lanai as the counselor and I met for our session in a small, pleasant room overlooking the hillside.  No, there was no leather couch, but there were two small, white couches with colorful pillows separated by a small, brown, wooden end table conveniently holding a box of tissue.

With the counselor directly across from me in a wooden chair matching the end table, she first looked over the survey she asked me to complete when I arrived.  After a quick glance, she deemed me "not depressed" and moved on to her list of questions that she had prepared for clients such as myself. 

In her quaint, British accent, sitting upright with her legs crossed, the counselor, Laura, asked me the obvious first question - how had I come to the decision to conceive using donor sperm?  Gosh, I should have just referred her to my blog!  She went on with typical questions that did not surprise me - what's my family relations like?  Support?  Expectations?  Challenges?  Will I tell my child how they were conceived, and if so, how?  And so on. 

I must admit, when the session started, I was rather stubborn and pretty much just wanted to get the whole thing over with.  I put up with the logistics and protocol and humored her questions.  By the end of the session however, I appreciated the session and had more respect for the UK laws requiring couples and women trying to conceive in these "out-of the-norm" ways.  I can't say that I came away with more from the session, as much of what we discussed was surface level, and as far as the thought provoking questions go, I had already considered them personally on several attempts.  Though, at the same time I have to say, it wasn't a terrible experience either.

After the session, which lasted just under an hour, Chrissy and I went about our day.  We visited the capital, Bridgetown, scored some decent looking fruit and ended the day on the beach (what a surprise!).  Tomorrow we return to the clinic to discover how much the little eggies have grown over the last two days and to find out when I return for the egg retrieval.  More to come!  

Beautiful Barbados!

We made it to Barbados!  Two days ago, after much hustling to finish grades, report cards and packing my classroom into 100+ boxes and bins, Chrissy and I took off from SFO at the wee hours of the morn' to land almost 12 hours later in Barbados!

What can I say?  Barbados is absolutely gorgeous!  Genuinely kind, good natured people who naturally say "hello" to you as you pass by, superb weather (quite humid and hot!), and of course the beaches!  Oh, the beaches!  Absolutely heavenly!  Ultra fine, white powdery sand leading into crystal clear waters that span every hue of blue from aqua, turquoise to deep navy blue at the horizon.  Baby blue skies are decorated with puffy white clouds that offer the occasional solace from the blazing sun.

We've spent our days sleeping in, lounging on the beach in the afternoon, and foraging for food in the evening.  Despite having a full kitchen in our extraordinarily spacious two bedroom apartment, we have been seeking out inexpensive places to eat.  They've proven to be non-existent.  Not only are restaurants pricey, but groceries are also quite expensive! 

Well, we're not here for the food now are we???  After having a day to ourselves to roam the local neighborhood, much of day #2 was spent at the clinic.  Literally around the corner, no more than 5 minutes walking time, rests the Barbados Fertility Centre, directly across from the ocean and boardwalk.  Chrissy and I were pleasantly welcomed into the cool, air conditioned waiting room, where several of the ladies I have been corresponding with over email introduced themselves, smiling and shaking my hand.  It was great to finally match faces to names after months of non-verbal communication.

As we waited to see the doctor, several lone men sat waiting for their partners to come out of their drug induced state - presumably because they had just undergone an egg retrieval or transfer.  My heart ached and went out to these couples, knowing the challenges and pain they must have suffered before stepping foot into the clinic.  I sat wondering which ones had traveled as far as I had and which ones had woke in their own beds this morning.  As I thought this over, it gave me comfort knowing that I wasn't the only one going to such extremes to have a baby.

Soon enough, Chrissy and I were called into the exam room where the nurse pointed to the reclined, cushioned chair with stirrups and said to me, "I'm guessing you've done this before?"  Well aware, I assumed the position: laid back, propped my legs into the stirrups and did my best to cover my legs so as to not startle Chrissy with too much of a show.  As we waited for the doc, I checked out the sonogram equipment and was rather impressed with the modern technology (far more advanced than Kaiser's) and was pleased to find that the exam room was clean and sterile.  Yay!  You can all rest assured, I am not being treated and cared for in a third-world, run down, shady clinic!

Moments later, Dr. Skinner breezed in, introduced herself and got right to business.  She prepped the probe and had a look-see at my uterus and ovaries.  According to Dr. Skinner, my uterine lining was a "textbook example" of what a fertility doc would hope to see - thick enough to allow an egg to implant.  Yay!  Next she shifted the probe left, then right to view how my eggs have been developing.  I had bet Chrissy that my left ovary would reveal stronger, more mature eggs, but I lost!  Typically my left ovary has been rather dominant, but today the sonogram showed three eggs on the left, while the right had four.  There were a few others, outliers really, as they were the runts of the lot, too small to catch up in time for the retrieval.  So, seven total.  Not bad.  All seven eggs were about 14mm, growing a bit faster than expected.  I guess my body has reacted to the increase in Menopur (3 vials to 5).  At any rate, the doctor said once the eggs reach 18mm, we should be good to go.  She guesstimated that would be either Saturday or Sunday.

After my brief consult with Dr. Skinner, Chrissy and I were turned over to the nurse that has been handling my case since day one.  Anna has been my life saver, confidant and backbone throughout this journey - in terms of paper work, procedures and injection tips, of course.  She doesn't come close to the support of my kick ass friends! 

In Anna's office, overlooking the beach and boardwalk, she discussed next steps with me - including revisions to my medication dosage, a reminder of my upcoming counseling session and hooks me up with a stack of papers for me to sign.  She stresses that it is very important for me to relax while I am here and to take care of my mind and body.  I thanked her with a box of See's Candy from home and she led us into the recovery room where she turned me over to Emma, another nurse. 

Emma greets us cheerily and directs me to a black leather, swivel chair complete with an ottoman.  This is where I am to spend the next hour receiving my Intralipid infusion.  Intralipid is a fatty acid made from soy and eggs.  Though it has not been approved by the FDA, it is used in many European countries and has shown to increase women's chances of pregnancy when a certain antibody (one that prevents implantation) is present in the woman's body.  Blood tests taken before I left to Barbados showed that this anti-body was present in my system - lucky me.  I was rather hesitant back home in the states to agree to the drug as I didn't want to naively agree to yet another cost and in addition, had not not heard of it before.  After doing some research and finding nothing but good reports, I decided to go ahead with the administration of the drug - another net that will hopefully assist me in getting pregnant.

As I settled into the comfy chair, with Chrissy next to me in a not-so-comfy chair, the nurse, Emma, hurried back and forth treating her patients behind curtains - women who had just come out of either a retrieval or transfer.  Once she took my vitals, mixed the solution, hung it to the IV pole, and pushed a few buttons, making the little blue machine make obnoxious beeps, Emma prepared my arm for the needle.  Wrapping an elastic around my upper left arm, Emma was pleased to find that I had veins, "like garden hoses!"  As she leaned in to carefully insert the needle into my arm, Chrissy glancing the opposite direction, I myself looked down so as to not witness the puncture.  Once in, Emma attached the tube, taped both the needle and tube to my arm and adjusted the drip. 

In this way, with a pillow propping my arm level, I sat for nearly an hour as the milky white solution slid down the clear, plastic tube and into my arm.  Besides a chilling sensation, I was in no discomfort or pain, despite having a needle sticking into my arm.  The plastic clip secured to my thumb, which read my vitals and the annoying arm band squeezing the life out of my right arm, taking my blood pressure every five minutes was far more uncomfortable!

In the hour or so that Chrissy and I sat for the Intralipid infusion, the men who were in the waiting room with us earlier that morning, one by one, entered the recovery room to join their wives or partners as they came out of their deep sleep due to the anesthesia.  One at a time, the women shuffled out from behind the curtains, assisted by their husbands, looking groggy, drugged up and totally out of sorts.  This was by far the scariest part of the visit today -  knowing that that would soon be me at some point on this vacation. 

After the infusion, my last stop was to return to the waiting room to settle the balance of my bill.  Half the costs of the treatment was taken care of before I left home - quite a hefty cost that had my credit card company calling to assure I was responsible for the charges.  Now the other half - wow, the miles I'm racking up!  Chrissy and I said farewell to the ladies in the office and went about our day - getting smoothies, taking a walk and plopping down on the beach for the most part.  After all, doctor's orders were to relax, right?  I think we got that handled!