After a little over a week of maturing my eggs, it was time to take them out. I wasn’t completely sure what to expect, but my nurse called me the day before surgery with instructions. I was told to fast (no food or water), avoid all scented products (including shampoo and deodorant), and not to wear makeup, jewelry, or contact lenses (if applicable) the following day. I spent the next couple hours cleaning up the apartment and attempting to meal prep, not knowing how I would feel during recovery. I then showered and tried to fall asleep early, but I was a ball of nerves. I eventually drifted off, but woke up what felt like only a few hours later with even more anxiety than the night before. 

My retrieval was scheduled for 11:40am (exactly 36 hours after my trigger shot), but I was told to arrive an hour early. My husband was not allowed to join me in the waiting room (#Covid), so he wished me luck in the car, and I headed into the clinic alone. I checked in, signed some forms and labels, and once completed, I was given a paper bracelet to wear. The receptionist then told me my lunch was on her desk and she’d be happy to send it to the recovery room. I was so confused until I saw it had come from A Time, the most incredible infertility organization. So thoughtful.

The receptionist brought me back to the changing area, about twenty minutes later, where I was given a locker, two gowns, a surgical hair net, and fuzzy socks. When I was finished getting dressed, I was asked to wait in a little exam room across the hall. I was panicking at this point because the surgery was looming closer and I was still waiting on permission to use my numbing cream for the IV. Thankfully, a nurse joined me a few minutes later and told me I could use my cream; however, the IV would have to go into my hand and not my inner elbow, which is what I had mentally prepared for. She calmed me down a bit, took my vitals, went over possible complications, then had me fill out some more paperwork. 

The anesthesiologist came in next to talk to me and fill out even more paperwork. She wrapped up her questioning by confirming that I did my trigger shot at the correct time, told me to leave my phone in a basket, then had me follow her back to the operating room.

I had never been so intimidated in my entire life. The room was fairly large with boxes, machines, and a hard operating table in the middle. They told me to lie down, so I just climbed up and closed my eyes.

Someone put a blood pressure cuff on me and then it was time for the IV. I was shaking like a leaf as the anesthesiologist inserted the needle, but the nurse did her best to distract me by striking up a conversation about food. And just when they were ready to put me to sleep, they realized the observer wasn’t there yet. Having an observer, someone to watch over the eggs, is only a Jewish requirement and A Time was able to set it up for us.  

The anesthesiologist felt so bad for bringing me in early since I now had to lie there with an IV in my hand for 10 extra minutes, but I was honestly just happy that part was over. They asked if I wanted to go back to the other room to wait, but I said I would rather stay put.

The observer arrived at 11:40am on the dot, when we were originally supposed to start, and I was required to state out loud that I could see her as she waved and wished me luck from the doorway. After that, everything moved at lightning speed and a bunch of people entered the room to prep. Our embryologist introduced himself and asked me to confirm mine and my husband’s information. Then someone else started talking to me and covering me in a blanket. The doctor came in next, introduced himself, and all of a sudden my legs were being pulled so that I was lying down with my knees raised.

I was so overwhelmed watching everyone rushing around me, but a second later, I felt the meds coming through the IV. There was so much pressure that I practically yelled, “Ow. Is it supposed to hurt? Is it supposed to hurt?” I heard someone reassure me it was normal, and the next thing I remember was a voice saying, “Esther. It’s time to wake up.” It sounded far away and I recall mumbling, “Who is it?” over and over in response. 

At some point, someone hooked me up to oxygen and I felt myself slowly come back into consciousness. When I opened my eyes, I was in the recovery room and a nurse came over almost immediately with a cup of cold water, pain meds, and two heating packs. 

The nurses were ready to release me after an hour, but I had nowhere to go since my husband hadn’t given his sample yet, so they told me to stay in bed until he was done. When I got his text that he was ready to escort me out, I let the nurses know and walked slowly to the changing room to get dressed. It hurt to get up, but it was bearable and I was so excited to see my husband in the waiting room. We pounded it and I felt like the freaking warrior I am. 

I was so grateful for the extra two heating packs the nurses gave me on the way out because I ended up needing both on the drive home. But first, we had to stop for fries, as is tradition in the infertility community. 

Recovery
I wish I had documented my symptoms, but I was really only in moderate pain the first couple days post surgery. It was mostly soreness after that or pain from a specific movement. My heating pad was my saving grace and I used it over my ovaries for basically 48 hours straight as I recovered in bed watching Netflix. I’d say I was 100% back to normal within the week, minus some residual bloating.

The hardest part of the recovery was definitely sleeping because it was very painful to lie on my sides or move around at all. It was also hard for me to go from sitting to standing and walking around was a pretty slow process too at first. Constipation was another fun side effect, but the ladies in my support group warned me in advance so I made sure to start my days with Miralex. 

From what I’ve heard, the more eggs retrieved, the longer recovery takes. Some women are back to work the following day and others wind up in the hospital with OHSS (Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome). There’s really no way to know how your body will react, but the latter is not the norm, and I wish anyone currently going through their own egg retrieval all the luck in the world!

xx Esther

*These posts do not reflect my current situation as they were written in the moment.
Still waiting on our miracle, but sharing now to help others feel less alone.
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