Flying Across the Pacific: 30 Days I Experienced at an IVF Hospital in the United States

At four o'clock in the morning, the runway lights at Pudong Airport looked like two golden rivers, stretching the figures of my husband and me slender. We carried a thirty kilogram medicine and medical refrigeration box, like holding a fragile moon, and boarded a flight to Los Angeles. At that moment, I didn't know that the next thirty days would be a tug of war over time, body, and hope in the corridors of two American reproductive centers.

Chapter 1: Flipping the Calendar to Blank

In order to align my menstrual cycle with the surgical schedule on the other side of the earth, I stopped all meetings three months in advance and painted Outlook gray. My friend laughed at me for "launching my uterus like a rocket," but all I wanted was for that tiny bubble, only one millimeter long, to rush out of the starting line when the correct second hand appeared.

The husband is responsible for translating the laboratory report into English and proofreading word by word whether "estradiol" and "E2" are the same indicator. We put our passports, marriage notarization documents, and immunization test forms in transparent document bags, like pasting barcodes for the future and waiting for customs to scan them.

Chapter 2: First Arrival at INCINTA: Sea Breeze Behind Glass Doors

After the plane landed, the California sea breeze wrapped in salty taste penetrated into the nose. The GPS took us into Torrance, and in front of a small beige building was written "21545 Hawthorne Blvd". Push the door and enter. The sun shines on the oak floor through the french window. A cup of warm water is handed to the front desk. A mint leaf is on the bottom of the cup.

The nurse put on a disposable in-hospital wristband for me, with a small line of text on top of my name: Cycle No. 2407. At that moment, I suddenly realized that I was just one of over two thousand hopes on this assembly line, but to me, it was 100% the universe.

Dr. Lin's speech is like a straight line without any modifiers. He drew three circles on the paper representing follicles, and then drew an upward curve, saying, "The goal is not quantity, it's synchronization." In just ten minutes, my ovulation induction dose was precise to multiples of 12.5 IU.

Chapter 3: One injection every day to brighten up the night

The kitchen light in Torrance Apartment was on all night. The husband took out the medicine bottle from the refrigerator, waited for twenty minutes to warm up, and then used a 27G needle to remove the bubbles. I leaned against the bar, watching the second hand tick as if waiting for a small rocket launch. The skin on the abdomen was wiped cold by alcohol swabs, and when the needle was inserted, there was a slight "pu" sound, as if someone had poked a small hole in the night and light was leaking in.

On the seventh day, upon returning to the hospital, the number of black bubbles on the ultrasound screen increased from five to nine. Dr. Lin rotated the image 180 degrees and pointed to the one with a maximum size of 14 mm, saying, "The rhythm is good, let's play for another two days." I stared at the screen, feeling like it was a moon pushed up by the tide, about to break through the sea level.

Chapter 4: Night Needle and Egg Retrieval: Countdown of 36 Hours

On the evening of the ninth day, the nurse sent a text message: "Trigger shot at 9 pm sharp." I put 10000 IU of HCG in my palm, like holding a time key. 36 hours after injection, the egg will be "frozen" at the edge of maturity, and one minute earlier or later may miss the optimal window.

On the day of egg retrieval, I changed into a blue surgical gown and my socks were printed with a small yellow duck. The anesthesiologist pulled down the mask and counted to three, my eyes darkened. Opening her eyes again, she was already in the recovery room when the nurse handed her apple juice and said, "Nine oocyte. I held the paper cup, as if nine glass beads were rolling and clinking in my heart.

Chapter 5: 24 Hours in the Laboratory

The egg is sent into the embryo chamber at a temperature of 37 ℃ and a CO ₂ concentration of 6%, like an endless spring day. I was waiting for a call in my apartment, flashing my WeChat steps to 30000, trying to counter the slow clock with my heartbeat. The next morning, the laboratory report came: seven out of nine were mature, and five were fertilized normally.

那一刻，我把手机贴在胸口，像接住一场小型雪崩。丈夫拍拍我的背，说：“五颗，就是五次闪电，总有一道会劈中夜空。”

第六章　转场 RFC：从西海岸到内陆

由于个人工作安排，我们把后续移植环节转到位于科罗娜的 Reproductive Fertility Center。车程一小时，阳光从太平洋一路追到内陆，像一条不肯熄灭的光带。

RFC 的走廊更窄，却挂满抽象画，仿佛用色彩稀释紧张。Dr. Rosencrantz 把胚胎镜图像放大到 4 000 倍，指着细胞说：“Day 3，七细胞，碎片

第七章　移植：一分钟的静止

移植室放着爵士乐，鼓点像海浪。护士让我憋尿 400 ml，说适度充盈的膀胱能把子宫压成一条平直航道。医生把导管像钓鱼线一样轻轻送进去，屏幕上的小白点一闪，胚胎被“放流”。整个过程不到六十秒，却像有人把时钟的秒针拔掉，世界失语。

我躺回病床，护士关灯，只剩天花板上一颗绿色指示灯，像深海浮标。那一刻我突然明白，所谓“辅助”，只是把舞台搭好，真正的演出仍由生命自己决定。

第八章　黄体支持与等待的裂缝

回国后，每天两次黄体酮凝胶，外加 20 mg 口服。我把闹钟设在 7:30 与 19:30，像给一天钉上两根桩子。第十天夜里，我梦见一条鱼跃出水面，鳞片闪着蓝光。醒来测尿，白板。丈夫说：“鱼只是路过，再等等。”

第十四天抽血，HCG 62 mIU/ml。我坐在医院走廊，把化验单折成一架纸飞机，轻轻抛向空中。它没飞多远，却足以划开一条裂缝，让光照进来。

第九章　回声：三十天后的回望

如今，日历翻到移植后第 30 天，B 超已见胎心。我把那段旅程像胶片一样倒回：从浦东的雾到洛杉矶的日出，从 Hawthorne 大道到 Rincon 街，从 2407 号腕带到 5AA 的胚胎等级。数字、地名、药名，像散落的珠子，被一根叫“时间”的线串成项链。

有人问：“值吗？”我想起移植后躺在 RFC 的休息室，窗外棕榈树影摇晃，像给世界加了一层滤镜。那一刻，我知道自己已经把“值不值”改成“敢不敢”。

第十章　给后来者的便签

• 把周期表打印成 A3，贴在冰箱门，比手机备忘录更直观。
• 带一只双温区的便携冷藏盒，飞机起飞前用冰排预冷 4 小时。
• 促排后期腹部会胀，把运动裤腰折一道，比临时买孕妇装省事。
• 取卵后喝电解质水，比单纯白开水更能防腹水。
• 移植当天穿袜子，手术室空调常年 20 ℃。

第十一章　同类机构速览

以下中心均位于加州，按首字母排序，供横向比较。

第十二章　尾声：把太平洋折叠

回国航班上，我打开舷窗挡板，太平洋在脚下泛着冷冽的银光。我忽然觉得，那三十天就像把这片大洋折叠成纸飞机，从加州掷向上海，载着一颗尚未命名的种子。飞机穿过云层，太阳从机翼升起，像给未来按下确认键。

我把毯子拉到胸口，轻轻说了一声：“欢迎登机。”

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