A funny thing happened at transfer

The call came that morning, 3dpt (or three days post transfer, for those who may not be familiar w/ infertility speak): one good looking 6-celled, and one fair 8-celled embryo (good enough for me!), all ready for transfer.  Started on my twenty ounces and mama and I were out the door.

No husband required on transfer day.  No fasting required, either.  Quite a change from retrieval day, where my mom and I waited, dressed and ready, on the sofa downstairs watching "Today," and poor sweet hubs had to "produce a sample" just one floor up (we're talking ten feet as the crow flies, our ceilings aren't that tall). 

Prior to transfer, I again combed the internet looking for what I could expect to feel during and after. I came upon many comments in which women said things like "the full bladder was the worst part." Clearly, I thought, these women did not work in health care.  For over ten years in the outpatient setting, my bladder had been trained against the urge to relieve myself.  I considered myself somewhat of a ninja in that area.  I could potentially wait for hours if I was busy enough, all while providing comprehensive care and patient education. Heh heh.  I would sail through this and then my mom and I could spend the day watching season season two of Downton Abbey.

I may have gone a little overboard on the water.  They said 20 ounces.  I have a 32 oz Nalgene.  I downed half of it and brought it with me to my appointment. 

Dr. M was running a bit late.  Just more time for me to ensure that I got plenty of water in that bladder so they could visualize my uterus and implant those embies exactly where they needed to be.  I was transferred into a holding pen for infertiles.  A narrow hallway with small curtained rooms on each side.  My mom could come with.  Perfect!  More time for girl chat.   

Let's say I began consuming water in earnest like a good patient at approximately 9 a.m.  Arrived to surgi-center at 9:30, transferred to infertile girl holding pen at 10 or so.  At 10:30 (past the time of my scheduled transfer), I looked at the clock and voiced to mama that I really needed to pee.  Laugh laugh laugh.  All for the sake of having a baby.  I was certain to be taken back soon.

11:15 a.m.: bladder distention pain begins interfering with ability to hold a conversation.  I can no longer laugh; am afraid I may pee, and also it just hurts.  Any voluntary or involuntary increase in intra-abdominal pressure increases the cramping, and I begin to fear for the integrity of my bladder.  Minutes later a nurse comes to retrieve me.  I gingerly get up and take step by painful step down the hall towards my embies and the transfer room.  Loading and unloading my pelvis during walking causes cramping, and I have to assume a somewhat hunched posture.

The transfer room is climate controlled and adjoins the embryology lab, so my little embies don't have to go far to be transferred.  I'm invited to "get up" on the plinth, making sure I position a folded pillow under my pelvis.  Ummm...as stated before, any voluntary or involuntary abdominal contraction significantly increases the pain on the stretched out smooth muscle of my bladder.  Trying to "back oneself up" on a mound of pillow on top of a high table: not so easy.  Or comfortable.  I could barely bridge to scoot the pillow back under my pelvis when I managed to heave myself onto the table. 

So I'm about to burst, nether-regions angled up to my poor doctor, who will certainly be covered in urine if I can't do some serious yoga breathing and get through this.  And then what happens is you get a speculum inserted, and someone else presses down on your bladder with the ultrasound head.  I remember hearing "WOW, that's a full bladder" prior to closing my eyes and breaking out in a a cold sweat.  The procedure took only moments, but passing out was a serious option at one point.  Not sure what they would have done, I was already supine.  But I remained conscious and they soon wheeled me back to the holding pen, my pelvis still elevated and my body somewhat crooked over that mound of pillow.  Any attempt to reposition myself would result in wetting the bed.  "Fifteen minutes and then you can get up," my nurse instructed and set a timer.  When I voiced concern that, really, I may pee the bed, he smiled sweetly and patted me.  Realization: those women in the blogs were right.

My mom noted that I was devoid of color, and my hair had been plastered to my face by my cold sweat.  She felt under my neck and shoulders and exclaimed "you're soaking wet!"  Yes, well, just a wee nervous system response to an organ whose walls are strained to near rupture.  I could only lay there, half on my mound of pillow, miserable, until my time was up.  And when it was, I could not get out of bed.  I literally could not contract my abdominals to roll or sit up in bed. My attempts to do so resulted in a flailing of limbs that sent my gown above my waist and mom exclaiming "honey!," and then checking the integrity of the curtain across our little pen before restoring my modesty and helping me out of bed.

The relief was not as sweet as thought.  My bladder had been through some trauma.  I sat for about 10 minutes in the bathroom, letting the loose walls of my bladder slowly shrink down to size dribble by dribble. I felt as if I may have betrayed my body slightly by not acting on it's obvious and urgent distress signals.  I was exhausted.

On the way back home, my mom recounted how, in the minutes that I was gone from my holding pen, other women began to drop like flies.  It was only Dr. M doing transfers for all of these ladies.  He was obviously very busy and somewhat backed up.  She heard one patient shuffle off to the bathroom in her little surgical stocking feet, and then heard a flush.  Then it happened again. The would-be glory of knowing that I didn't falter in my bladder-holding efforts was diminished by the vague fear that irreversible damage may have been done.

Back home in my bed, my mom making cookies downstairs, I felt like I'd run a marathon instead of enjoyed a Downton Abbey marathon.  I curled up for a nap to let my insides settle back to their rightful places.