Egg donation number two was FAR less fun than egg donation number one, if “fun” is even an appropriate word to use here. My body responded a bajillion times better to the hormones (though my mind did not, and I’ll get there), and I developed eggs much faster that were larger (more inconsistent in size), but nearly all were considered large enough for use.
This meant that my largest egg in my right ovary was .3mm, sharing space with 12 other eggs, all hovering around or above .2mm. My left ovary was more reasonable in size, though not in number. There were 15 eggs and they ranged in size from .14mm-.21mm. A total of 28 eggs were produced between the two, taking up nearly 5mm of ovary space… considering that the normal ovulation cycle produces 1 ovum to ovulate at an average of .2mm… it sucked. Like more than I could have ever anticipated. I was bloated to the point of looking pregnant (5 months pregnant, according to my formerly pregnant – now mothers – friends), and I could not do normal activities. Even walking was just terrible. And, this was right before Christmas, so much celebrating and being around people was inevitable.
Boy, was I miserable to be around. Just ask my boyfriend. He thought I was going to break up with him, and to be frank, so did I. Everything he did was annoying to me, not just because I was in pain (and I was in pain nearly constantly for the last week of shots), but because it seemed that my patience had been reduced to nothing for whatever reason. Poor kid. I still feel bad about how I treated him during that time.
Anyway, how does this relate to advocating for myself? So, like the 5th day of shots, I asked the doctor if it was normal to begin feeling my ovaries inside my body, because it had taken at least 2 days longer for me to notice them the first time. They assured me that this was fine. But like 3 days later, they had begun to hurt enough to interfere with my life. I SHOULD have asked for more frequent ultrasounds, and I should have advocated for having my surgery a day earlier than I had it. I literally felt like my ovary was going to burst, which is not a cool feeling. I should have told them I wanted an ultrasound every day after that 5th day… but I didn’t, and I paid the price. My recovery was much longer this time (10 days as opposed to 7), and overall it was just a miserable experience.
IF I choose to donate again (a big “if” at the moment), I will not allow my doctors to ignore unusual and more dramatic pain. I will not allow them to keep me to a schedule that puts me at greater risk with an enlarged organ. And I will ask more questions than ever before.