It's not a toomah
On November 14th, of 2016, we retrieved 8 eggs, with 5 of them becoming viable embryos that we could transfer to make a baby. It’s the old school thought process that you transfer 1 or 2 of those embryos exactly five days after the eggs are retrieved, then you freeze the rest. I say old school because studies now show that freezing & thawing rarely harms the embryos so it is better to let your body heal from the surgery and transfer them at a later date, known as a Frozen Embryo Transfer (FET).
We had an old-school doc, so he wanted to perform a fresh transfer those few short days after the surgery but something unexpected happened. During the process your fertility doc regularly monitors your hormones, all sorts of hormones that even I (a nurse) wasn’t familiar with. It turned out that my brain, specifically my hypothalamus, decided to unexpectedly start spewing out a ton of a hormone called prolactin. To combat the high level of that hormone some of my thyroid related hormones latched on to the prolactin, causing me to have secondary hypothyroidism. Hot. Freaking. Mess.
Despite all that, I wasn’t all that worried that we were going to do a FET instead of fresh transfer, because this would give me time to get my hormones right. What did make me go into batshit crazy mode was that after numerous weeks of unsuccessfully trying to regulate the hormone levels with meds, the doc felt confident there was a mass on my brain causing this issue.
“A brain tumor. That is all I could think of while waiting days to get in for an MRI. A. Fucking. Brain. Tumor.”
Of course I assumed this is why god didn’t give us a baby, because I have a terminal brain tumor. My mind went in approximately 1,204,308 directions. Everywhere from “I’m sure it’s not a tumor” (in my Arnold voice) all the way to making my bucket list and wondering how I would pay for all my cockamamie must-dos.
Meanwhile, while I am thinking I am dying of a vicous life sucking brain tumor (dramatic much?), my husband was in South Carolina for a wedding sending me non-stop photos of delicious food and beach parties. Let’s just say when he returned he felt the wrath of a crazed woman and realized the error of his ways. If I am not having fun no one is having fun, and apparently it doesn’t matter if I told you I didn’t mind you going.
How I envision my look when my husband walked in the door from the airport.
Long story short, we didn’t transfer as expected because nothing in IVF goes as expected, I thought I had a brain tumor, I had an MRI, I confirmed I didn’t have a brain tumor, I forgave my husband for not being perfect, and we kept using meds to get my hormones right so I could transfer 2 of our 5 perfect little embryos.
Next up, our first (of many) FET.
Some of my non-existent brain tumor bucket list items, in no particular order:
Walk the Great Wall of China
Start a non-profit for rescuing dogs
See the Northern Lights
Hug my mom more
Climb Kilimanjaro
Hike Patagonia
Swim in the Dead Sea
Write my niece & nephews letters of wisdom (likely not all that wise notes from Crazy Aunt Rose)
Spend as much time as humanly possible with my wonderful husband, even though he refuses to miss a wedding or good time
Spend time helping my favorite dog rescue in Thailand
Visit little girls in school in India, helping build them u