Morning monitoring #2 — the cycle we stopped.

I woke up around 5 a.m. because my head hurt too badly to sleep.
I'd gone to bed early the night before, around 10, with an excruciating headache. I took Extra Strength Tylenol, but I still woke up several times throughout the night with my head pounding. My dreams have also been insane since starting the medication — vivid enough that at one point I dreamed a cat jumped onto the chair behind me and I actually screamed myself awake.

By 5 a.m., I figured I was awake anyway, so I might as well get moving.
I ate something, took a walk, showered, and headed into Manhattan for monitoring.

Go early if you can

My appointment was at 7:30, but I arrived early and asked the woman at the desk if there was any chance I could be seen sooner.
She told me monitoring was first come, first served.

I was probably the fourth person there. They called me almost immediately for blood work. Then I walked over to wait for the ultrasound, and before I could even fully sit down, they called my name again.
By the time I left, every seat in the blood work waiting area was full.

I finally asked what they were looking at

During the ultrasound, I asked the technician if she could explain what she was doing, because during my baseline ultrasound nobody really told me anything.
She said there hadn't been much to look at then because I hadn't started the medication yet. Now they were checking whether my follicles were growing.

They were.

She started calling out measurements one after another: 9 point something, 4 point something, 8 point something. Another nine. Another eight.
It finally clicked that she was measuring all of them.

I also asked about the bleeding I'd been having on and off. She explained that we're pumping my body full of hormones, so changes in my period and flow aren't particularly surprising.

Then I asked about the headaches.

I left feeling like I finally understood a little more about what was happening.
And then the day completely changed.

Books don't expire

Since I was already in Manhattan, I wasn't ready to go straight home.
I grabbed a coffee and sat down to write for a while, then wandered through Central Park because it was still early and I had nowhere else I needed to be.

Later, I stopped at a stationery store because I needed another journal.
I stood there for a while debating between a few of them. Some of the paper didn't feel quite right. Eventually I picked out three.

When I went to check out, the woman behind the counter was incredibly kind. She looked at the stack of journals and smiled.
"The good thing is, books don't expire."

I laughed.
She was right.

At the time, it just felt like a nice little interaction with a stranger.
I had no idea how much I was going to need that sentence about an hour later.

Five follicles

Eventually I got on the train and noticed I'd missed a call from the fertility clinic. There was also a message from my doctor, but only part of it came through.

The part I heard was enough: they only had five follicles.
They had been hoping for more.

I called her back.

She explained that I could continue the cycle. We could keep going until Sunday, I could start another medication tomorrow, and then come back Sunday for another ultrasound.

I asked the question I really wanted answered: what are the odds that we'll actually get more?

I thought about the headaches I'd had for days. The hormones. The injections. The money. The physical and emotional toll of continuing toward a retrieval when we weren't seeing the response we'd hoped for.

I told her I thought it might make more sense to stop this cycle and try again.
She understood.

I asked whether there were any side effects from stopping the medication cold turkey. She said no.

So we stopped.
My next cycle is scheduled for August.

What nobody told me

I knew going into egg freezing that a retrieval might not produce many eggs.
I knew the numbers weren't guaranteed.

After I got off the phone, I sobbed for about two hours.
The thought I kept having was: my body is failing me.

I know I'm pumped full of hormones. I know I've barely slept because my head has been hurting for days. I know this cycle gave my doctors information they can use if we try again.
I know all of those things.
And I am still devastated.

I'm going home to Nashville on Saturday.
I just need to be home for a second.

And I keep thinking about the woman at the stationery store.
Books don't expire.
Maybe she was only talking about journals.
But today, I needed to hear it as something bigger.

For now, that's it.
Five follicles.
A 30% chance.
A cycle we decided not to finish.
And August.