Oxford Fertility Clinic was fancy. Nestled within a business park, it was all modern architecture and glass panels - quite a departure from typical NHS settings. Gary and I were shown straight to a private room, and since any eggs would be fertilised that afternoon, Gary was ushered off to have some 'alone' time while I changed into my gown and gorgeous surgical stockings.
***
At some point during the time I'd been downregulating, Gary had been asked for an updated sperm sample, as the last one had been over two years ago at this point. The results, to our slight surprise, came back showing a reduced sperm count, although motility was fine. No-one seemed overly concerned about this - Gary was going through quite a lot of stress at work at the time, and we were reassured that any number of factors could be at play. Still, in order to increase our chances, we were advised to go ahead with ICSI.
"In conventional IVF at least 100,000 sperm must be placed with each egg to have a realistic chance of achieving fertilisation. ICSI treatment [Intracytoplasmic Sperm Injection] involves the injection of a single sperm directly into each egg. The treatment leading up to and after ICSI is identical to the conventional IVF cycle" - Oxford Fertility
***
The procedure for me was straightforward - in as much as I was heavily sedated and don't remember anything beyond having my feet strapped into Velcro booties on stirrups until I was back in my room with tea and biscuits - and by late lunchtime we were free to go. I won't lie - I was in quite a lot of discomfort and could barely stand upright, which was hardly surprising given someone had been prodding around in my ovaries with a giant suction needle. But we were leaving with the knowledge that 8 eggs had been successfully retrieved, and the next morning we had the wonderful phone call to say that five of them appeared to have fertilised!
And so, four days passed, and the evening before we were due to head back to Oxford we had another phone call to update us on progress. Of the five fertilised eggs, three were good quality - excellent news! But already, the doubts were creeping in. Three embryos, down from the fourteen follicles that were counted at the Day Nine scan? The likelihood of successful IVF was already around 30% for us, and the numbers seemed to be dropping rapidly. Still, we took ourselves away to a lovely hotel for the night to unwind, and make sure we were already near Oxford for our 11:00 appointment the next day.
When we arrived, things had changed again. It was actually two embryos, not three. And because they weren't as good quality as they could be, we were advised to transfer both at once.
All of a sudden, we were on the spot. Did we go ahead with both, risk both being successful and having twins? If they both failed, we would have to start all over again from scratch. But if they were going to fail then wouldn't it be better for that to happen and have a full round while the funding was available to us? And all of this was taking place while I was sat on the edge of a surgical couch, with the medical team scrubbed up and waiting for our decision.
Ultimately, we decided that the professionals knew better than us and to go with the recommendation; and so once again I found myself in stirrups - fully awake and unmedicated this time - with a giant lamp shining up my vag, and the transfer began. Or rather... it didn't. Because everything in my uterus was still so swollen from growing more than one egg at once that Janis was now squashing into my uterine cavity and partially blocking my cervix.
After 10 VERY painful minutes of poking and prodding down below, and crushing Gary's fingers with my hand, the doctor called out to the embryologists in the lab next to us, ever so calmly, "Have embryos already been prepared?" The answer came back "Yes", and a flicker of an expression crossed his partially concealed face. At this point, my internal alarm bells starting clanging and I asked if everything was OK. "I'm having a little difficulty accessing the wall of your uterus to attach the embryos", he replied, "I'll have to try a longer cannula". At this point, the screen of the ultrasound wand that was being held over my abdomen to help with the transfer was swung around to me, and various indecipherable shadows and white bits were pointed out to me in attempt to show me where the cannula should be, and what was going on (Janis).
So, once again the transfer was attempted, this time with the longer cannula. It was almost unbearably painful, and felt like it went on for hours. In actual fact, the whole thing took just over half an hour - but should have been a matter of minutes. All I could do was try and breathe through it and know that at some point it would all come to an end.
Eventually - success! The cannula was in the correct position, both embryos were brought through from the lab, injected through and confirmed as no longer being in their petri dish.
The doctor apologised for how long and uncomfortable everything had been, and we then found out that, had the embryos not been prepared - an irreversible process that takes place in the minutes before a transfer - then he would have abandoned the procedure and advised we return after the inflammation in my abdomen had subsided enough to move the fibroid out of the way. As it was, for the first time ever to my knowledge, I was technically pregnant... with twins!
No comments:
Post a Comment