“The original plan was to do the procedure next week. But, I’ve spoken with Ellie and Josh about the status of their remaining embryos, and after some discussion we determined that the surrogacy would have a higher rate of success if Ellie undergoes another round of egg retrieval.”
I try not to zone out while Dr. Yang explains science to me. Ellie and Josh used the most viable embryos during their IVF attempts and their remaining embryos, while healthy, have a lower success rate for implantation. Dr. Yang advised them to consider doing another egg retrieval, which compared to the cost of IVF and surrogacy, is minimal.
“The egg retrieval process will take about three weeks. Ten to twelve days of injections to stimulate the ovaries, then after the egg retrieval procedure, another week to develop and fertilize the embryos. When the fertilized embryos are ready, we’ll schedule the embryo implantation procedure. In the meantime, Brooke, you will continue to take the hormones.”
She must see the look of panic on my face because she follows it up with, “It’s completely safe.”
Is she sure about that? I wouldn’t say anyone who comes in contact with me during the next month is going to be safe.
But, I keep those thoughts to myself because I’m here for Ellie and she needs to know I can do this. I can totally do this. I will just need to factor in a pillow hump every morning and a post-work masturbation session into my schedule and everything will be fine.
Ellie excuses herself to use the restroom.
With Ellie gone, I sit quietly as Dr. Yang writes something down in her file. Or I guess it’s my file.
“Brooke, do you have any questions for me? Is everything going well with the progesterone?”
“Actually, I’ve been experiencing quite a bit of,” I search for a word that doesn’t make me sound like a nymphomaniac, “sensation down there.” I wave my hand over my nether region.
Dr. Yang smiles.
“The hormones can be pretty intense.” She smiles again and lets out a laugh. “I did IVF for our twins and my husband was thrilled that I wanted to jump him all the time.”
I want to let out a commiserate laugh, but in my case, I don’t have a willing husband at home to have sex with whenever I want. I’ve been humping pillows.
Dr. Yang must realize this, the husband thing, not the pillow thing, because her smile turns sympathetic, and she leans closer to me.
“Brooke, as long as you’re using protection, you can still have sex.” She reaches for a drawer, pulls out a thin foil packet and rips it open. She unfolds a thin, clear film that looks like one of those breath strips that dissolve on your tongue. “These are spermicidal films. They are a great second form of contraception, to be used with condoms.” She places her finger in the middle of the film. “You just insert it into your vagina fifteen minutes before sex and it dissolves.”
Yup, it’s a breath strip for my vagina.
Dr. Yang reaches back in the drawer and hands me a stack.
Ellie pops back in, “Sorry, too much coffee this morning, I guess.”
I use my hand to conceal the spermicide films Dr. Yang gave me. I don’t need Ellie questioning why I need spermicide. We usually talk about everything, even sex, but the emotional rollercoaster that Ellie has been on since the last round of IVF, and now she needs to do another egg retrieval procedure, I don’t want to add any extra stress or worry to this process. Dr. Yang leaves to call in Ellie’s hormone prescription, then I climb down off the exam table.
“Are we on for movie night tonight?” I ask.
“Yes, but Josh reminded me this morning that it’s his turn to pick the movie.” She’s rummaging in her purse for her car keys so she doesn’t see me make a face. Josh isn’t known for his great taste in movies, and he’ll probably choose something gory with a war time back drop, as payback for my last pick, the eighties dance movieGirls Just Want to Have Fun. It’ll be a good time to paint my nails and drink wine.
Ellie finds her keys and gives me another quick hug. “Love you.”
Once I’m alone in the exam room, I hurry to get dressed. I attempt to wipe up the wetness between my legs with a tissue, but I’m still wet and the friction is starting to make me even wetter. I adjust my boobs in my bra, they’re achy and tender. At this point they’re basically beacons searching for touch, preferably a sexy doctor with a warm mouth. Grrr.
I need to focus. Not only on the surrogacy for Ellie, but on my job. I’ve been so distracted at work, last week I hung the wrong art work in the wrong rooms, which wouldn’t have been a big deal except they were on the wrong walls, too, so I had to do some patch work, which is never a good thing to do in a brand new condo. And yesterday, I had furniture delivered to the wrong place. It was super embarrassing discovering I had made the mistake after I threatened the moving company manager to never use their company again. How am I going to be able to get any work done if I can’t stop thinking about sex, Cole, and sex with Cole?
Especially now with the implantation being postponed for Ellie to do another egg retrieval. I totally get that they want the best possible embryo for success but now I’m thinking I jumped the gun on having one last hook-up.
My body is dying for a release. One that isn’t at my own hands. I’ve already tried that and it hasn’t helped quench the raging hormones inside me. It’s Friday, I could rally Sam for a happy hour and try to find a hook-up. But the thought of putting forth effort to find a guy to satisfy my needs makes me exhausted. I got really lucky with Cole, a sexy doctor with a big dick, who gave me mind-bending orgasms.
Now, my mind is back to replaying images of said dick. How he thrust into me, the delicious burn when he filled me, and how hard I clenched around him when I came. The ache between my thighs returns. I groan inwardly as I think about how distracted I’m going to be all day.
Sue wants me to assist her in a meeting with a potential contractor client and I really don’t need visions of Cole’s dick floating in my head.
I manage to make my way out of the doctor’s office and into the elevator bank without humping anything. I stab the down button and wait.
The elevator dings its arrival and I step on. I stare at the buttons. The L for lobby should clearly be my choice, but along with my mind, the hormones have taken over control of my fingers, which illuminate another button. Before I can even come up with a game plan, the elevator opens on the third floor and I step out.
