We were greeted at the clinic on Monday morning and led into a private room with a television, hospital bed, reclining chair and nightstand. This is where I would stay and wait during the retrieval and where A* would get ready and be brought back to rest afterwards. A* was to show up to the retrieval showered and free from makeup, fragrances, and deodorant. Once we were in the private room, she undressed completely and removed all of her jewelry and put on a hospital gown, hair net and booties. A nurse came in and inserted an IV catheter, and told us she’d be back when the doctors were ready. The nurse returned about fifteen minutes later and took A* in a wheelchair off to the surgical area. The television in the room was there so that I could watch the ultrasound during the retrieval. Unfortunately the connection was down, and since A* was under anaesthesia, neither of us were able to watch the procedure.

I settled into the large armchair in the room and dug around in my purse for a new “voodoo” doll I had purchased the previous week at the market. I don’t identify as a religious or superstitious person, but since we’ve set things in motion I’ve been praying to fertility statues; abiding certain fertility rituals; and practising traditions from old wives’ tales. These new habits include bringing this new doll I bought in Mexico depicting two women and a baby to all of our fertility clinic appointments. A* declared it was my voodoo doll and I held it during the entire appointment and surgery time while she was gone, and hoped for the very best.

Although I didn’t know exactly where the operating room was, it was clearly nearby because I could hear the beeping of her monitoring equipment through the wall. I listened to it intently until I finally heard my wife’s voice from the hall slurring “…it’s like when you’re really drunk and you get taken home but you don’t recognize anything, you know? …I just feel really fucked up.” They transferred her to the recovery bed and told her to get some more rest. She was being pretty silly as I tried (and failed) to cover her with the blankets, but without really getting any more sleep she started to come around and make sense of things. It was then she could tell me about what happened prior to the procedure: there was a discussion with the anesthesiologist about how long it should take for her to go under, a Valium IV drip was started and she was feeling supremely uncomfortable laying naked from the waist down, her knees braced apart and suspended in the air while the doctor sat between her legs and a slew of nurses and the embryologist stood by waiting for her to fall asleep. The procedure took about twenty minutes after she went under and there was about an hour in recovery before the nurse reappeared with some jello and water. After eating a bit and getting rehydrated we waited for Dr. G. to come in and give us the news. How many eggs were retrieved?

His news was eleven eggs. He informed us that they were only expecting around six from the retrieval and although he couldn’t tell how many of those retrieved were mature, he thought eleven was great. Then Dr. G. went over the progesterone results as well. Her levels were 0.51 ng/ml, which we were told was great for this stage. The eggs were now stored in their Petri dishes and we would get an update on Tuesday with how many were mature, how many of the mature eggs had fertilized, and another update on Thursday with the number that had developed to day 3 embryos. Pending the day 3 results, we would be returning to the clinic on Saturday, March 16, A*’s birthday, for the fresh embryo transfer.

After Dr. G’s report, the nurse came in with some medications and directions for the next five days: A* was given a single antibiotic tablet, and directed to take a baby aspirin everyday, along with a progesterone vaginal gel, Crinone, every night. Crinone is a gel with 90 mg of progesterone loaded into an applicator that vaguely resembles a tampon applicator. The progesterone will prevent the start of her period, which allows her endometrial lining to continue to thicken up instead of shedding. It’s crucial that the endometrial lining be receptive to the embryos on the day of transfer, and some women are not able to go ahead with the fresh embryo transfer during the same IVF cycle where eggs were retrieved. There are myriad stories online of cancelled cycles due to lining issues resulting from the hormones during the stimulation phase. We were relieved that A*’s hormone profile and lining were described as “perfect” for the upcoming transfer.

The next few days we had no appointments at the clinic. They would email us the results as the eggs were fertilized and our embryos began growing. With A*’s birthday coming up, this was the perfect time to put the process out of our minds (good luck!) and go out for one last big night on the town before the transfer and whatever else was coming our way. Shockingly, this was the doctor’s recommendation as well! Not bed rest, not yoga, not meditation – his only request was that A* didn’t show up totally smashed the morning of the transfer (this has apparently been an issue in the past. Seriously.) The only setback was that A* had to stay out of the water, so no swimming for fourteen days after the retrieval. Because the vaginal wall and ovaries are perforated by a needle during the egg retrieval, there is a heightened risk of infection. This was a bitter pill whilst on vacation in Mexico, but luckily tanning and dangling my feet in the pool is more up my alley than actually swimming, so A* didn’t feel too left out.