Tomorrow I will harvest my eggs. Or, Billings Clinic doctors, rather, will aspirate my eggs from my ovaries. This journey began on day 4. I never imagined egg freezing/IVF. I never imagined losing fertility. Since Day 4 and meeting the incredible team of Dr. Shomento, Lizzie (RN), Anicee (RN and shot trainer), and Melissa (cancer survivor and ultrasound), this unexpected ride has been a massive source of hope. When I first walked into their office, Lizzie said, "I am so excited you are here."
On March 10, I started two hormonal injections in my subcutaneous skin (aka in my stomach skin). I went in for ultrasound measurements of my ovaries' follicles and hormonal levels on March 14, March 16, March 18, and today, March 20. On March 16, I started a third shot. Last night at 12:30 a.m. (or, this morning), I gave myself "the trigger" shot of lupron.
I will miss this team. Among all the assignments and lab work, they have been a bright spot. I feel in control. I love the side conversations. I look forward to seeing them each time. Each is a force with their own energy rhythms. Each was a steadying hand in the unknowns of chaos. They have made it possible that I do not have to think about losing biological motherhood while embracing this cancer fight.
I have been treated with profound kindness, humanity, and dignity.
Tomorrow, my eggs will be aspirated on the Spring Equinox (thanks Zed for this context--what a great day for a new season!). A new beginning and hope for the future. Many unknowns, but the hope overrides all the uncertainty. I haven't had the air to research anything, and I feel great peace walking into tomorrow.
VICTORY: I have given myself numerous shots in my stomach at the appropriately scheduled times. I will never hesitate again with the Red Cross's finger poke pre-donation. I am Woman.
I love that today on the Equinox you are doing something that is thinking about rebirth and growth. I can hear your voice in your writing and it makes me cry happy tears. I'm so angry that you have to do all this so quickly. I'm so glad you feel deep amounts of care from all the nurses and other folks you've been around. I hope as long as it brings you satisfaction or joy or some sort of good thing that you keep writing. Sending you big, tender, full hugs from Victoria, and all the smells of springtime flowers. Love, love, and more love, Kate.
PS I love that you called this The Harvest in a previous post.