This process is going so much faster than I ever thought it could. Let’s talk about my egg retrieval. The retrieval process started off well because Casey was in town! Being away from home and alone is not a whole lot of fun, and being able to spend time with him took my nerves down more than a few notches. He arrived Tuesday evening for our appointments Wednesday morning. We had a delicious dinner at Olive Garden, which I miss a lot living in Montana. It was a nice last meal before the whole no eating and drinking protocol prior to anesthesia. Casey had to be there for his sample at 7:15 am, and I had to check in at 9am for a 10am retrieval. The drive from where I’m staying to the clinic is about 45 minutes, so we were up bright and early and on our way. It wasn’t really time effective to leave Spokane between Casey’s sample and my check-in, so “we” went to breakfast. We meaning Casey devoured his breakfast in front of me, and I didn’t even get a sip of water. After checking in I had the privilege of getting all dressed up in my surgical garb. Including backless gown and blue hair cap. Then one of the lovely nurses came in to start my IV. It’s no secret that I’m not a fan of needles. While I am terrible with needles in general IVs are the worst. I hate them. I hate having them started. I hate having them in. I hate taking them out. hate. They usually do IVs in the hand after a few shows of Lidocaine to numb the area. Well, I’m allergic to Novocaine, so they refused to let me have any Lidocaine. Apparently an allergic reaction would throw the whole process off. Party poopers. The IV went in my arm instead of my hand. Apparently the hand can be a lot more painful to start than the arm without the Lidocaine, I took the nurses word for it. After my IV was started I had a chat with the anesthesiologist, who was wonderful. He did a great job explaining everything without talking down to us, and gave ample opportunity for questions. Once he had the information he needed it was go time. My nurse took my IV bag and led me to the bathroom (I couldn’t help thinking of it like a leash). I emptied my bladder and off we went to the surgery room. The anesthesiologist did not delay in starting some feel good drugs in my IV. Probably Valium. He told me what it was at the time. While hooking up my heart monitors on my chest he moved my gown and accidentally exposed a wee bit of boob. Like, barely even the top. Ladies show more tit in church. He immediately started apologizing profusely. In my Valium induced warm-fuzziness I thought it was hilarious. “Hey man, it’s alright. Everyone here is about to spend the next 30 minutes looking at my vagina, I’m not worried about a little boob.” That, along with my very favorite nurse holding my hand and giggling in my ear, is the last thing I remember before retreating into anesthesia dream-land. The next minute (about a half hour later) I was waking up to someone saying my name and asking if I wanted Casey. Of course I wanted Casey. Anesthesia does some funny things to people. It makes me happy and all lovey-dovey. I was quite ecstatic to see Casey and have him hold my hand. After a few minutes in bed they moved me over to a recliner with a heating pad for the pain and handed me a capri sun and one of those awesome cheese and cracker packs. You know, the ones with that little red plastic stick. Yum. After the ten minute eternity a nurse came to tell us how many eggs they retrieved. THIRTY-FIVE. I asked her to repeat the number twice. And then high-fived her. My last ultrasound before retrieval showed about 14 follicles that were the right size, so I was astounded by the 35 eggs they managed to corral off my ovaries. No wonder I looked 4 months pregnant and felt like my ovaries were going to explode. We spent the rest of the day watching Netflix and just hanging out. The pain was definitely there, but wasn’t excruciating. I was thankful for my pain killers, but would have survived without them. Casey had to leave super early the next morning, but thanks to said pain killers I slept like a rock. The bloating and pain slowly subsided, and I was left with the task of not going crazy while waiting for my fertilization report, finding out how many of those 35 eggs fertilized. More next time on my fertilization report and the grueling nerves that took over while our embryos grew (or didn’t).