The IVF Game Show

My RE, Dr. Optimism, reminds me of a game show host. He’s charming, has solid good looks, and is always followed by an entourage of female nurse assistants. Of the three REs in the office I go to, he’s definitely “the celebrity.” Always busy, booked to the limit, and looked upon with awe. The other REs seem much more down to earth.

During this cycle, I only actually met with Dr. Optimism twice—both times for initial consultations/diagnosis. When it came time for the mock transfer, retrieval, and transfer, his calendar never lined up with mine. So, I know the other REs a little better. It made me laugh a bit then when I had to specifically take the one and only appointment Dr. Opt had free when it came time to schedule my first ob ultrasound, regardless of my schedule. My nurse informed me that Dr. Opt simply must be the one to do it. Now, I’m sure he was reading my charts every day, and he did call H after retrieval and transfer to check on us and give us a thumb’s up, but the real dirty work of my cycle belonged to other people. I feel gratitude to those folks just as much to him.

So I go in today, feeling a bit nauseous just because of my nerves, and sit patiently on the table waiting for him to enter the examination room. I feel my bladder filling with nervous pee as 15 minutes slowly tick by. Finally he enters, and I get the sparkly smile, a big handshake, and a congratulations for making it this far in the game. He starts to mess with the gel and stuff but then seems to realize—hey, wait—I have my own little Vanna White for this. He calls in a nurse and she takes over doing the little odds and ends to get everything ready.

Now, remember, Emmie, you’ve made it this far, but there’s still a few hurdles, he warns. Cautious optimism is a good idea, he adds, as he begins the examination.

My uterus appears on the screen and immediately I see what I believe are two sacs based upon sleepless nights spent with Dr. Google. The second one is out of view in a flash though, as Dr. Opt digs in and focuses on a large sac in the middle of the screen.

“Congratulations!” he says. “We’ve got one!” He explains to me the makeup of the sac, and I recognize the heartbeat before he can even point it out. Damn, I’m good, I think, as he points bright flickering out a moment later as if I wouldn’t know what it was. He seems to take his good old time examining the sac, like he’s doing it particularly for my benefit to get a good look. When several minutes have passed and he hasn’t moved on, I start to think the second sac I saw was just my imagination.
“Now wait, Emmie,” Dr. Opt suddenly says, “there’s more!” I knew it! The rehearsed way he sounded told me that he saw the second sac at the same initial second that I did, and here he was unveiling it like a bonus extra prize. Okay, I’ll play. “There’s more?” I say, eyes wide.

Congratulations again, he said. You have a second sac here. The second sac was much harder to see because the first one was kinda in the way. I could see the heartbeat flicker, though, after a few wand repositionings. He said they were placed perfectly fine though, and they measured exactly the same-- 5 weeks 4 days with heartbeats of 120. He said both were perfectly normal measurements, though I was a little surprised to see them measuring at 5w4d when I’m 6w2d. He said it was fine though, so I’ll consult Doc Google later.

At this point, my lady parts were getting very tired of being invaded. Afterall, nothing has come near them in several weeks. I was ready to be done, take my pictures and go, but Dr. Opt says, “let’s take one more look at what you’ve won” and moves back to sac A. No, he didn’t really say it in those words, but that was the sentiment. I was really sore at this point and forced a smile, wondering if the tear coming out of my left eye was from pain or joy.

I did let a few tears of pure joy spill out, after he finally released me from the wanding.

He asked how I was feeling as far as symptoms, and he was surprised that I had no morning sickness. The surprised look on his face coupled with the “Really? With all the hormones you have racing through you? Your hormones are really high right now!” did not make me feel better. I expected him to tell me the PC thing—that not everybody gets morning sickness—and I should count myself lucky. He didn’t. I mentioned my increased appetite, and he cautioned me not to overdo it because there’s no need to gain much weight in the first trimester. Gee thanks. I know that.

He examined my hips to see if I had lumps from the PIO shots, (he must not have believed me when I said I didn’t) and he expressed surprise at seeing how well my backside was holding up. “Whatever you’re doing,” he said, “don’t stop. I can’t believe your body’s good reactions to all these things.” Yippee! I have a super IVF body.

In between the happy talk, he did tell me not to spread the word about the pregnancy until after the next ultrasound in 10 days, just to be on the safe side. After that, he said, I’d be released into regular care and I should be good to go. We all know that there’ll still be plenty to worry about, but I won’t dwell on that for now. Today, I’m too busy looking at pictures of my two-for-one super prize. I’m so, so happy.

Thank you all for your support and reassuring words yesterday. It means the world to me. I am so glad I can share this with you, because no matter what happens, this is real right now and should be acknowledged.