Officially official

Yes, the eagle-eyed among you had noticed that I'd already marked my FF chart with a "B-" indication, but that was just me guessing, well, knowing, what the result was going to be. And wanting to stop FF from giving me that stupid "Congratulations! You are pregnant!" message. So I marked stuff on my chart that I didn't really know to be accurate. But of course, deep down, I did know. And not so deep down. The boobs don't lie, and the boobs have been deflated, non-veiny and so not pregnant for a few days. I think the boobs always know.

The follow-up beta was negative.

I am still surprisingly OK. I am not quite sure why. I am sure a lot of it is just shocked numbness, and that the floodgates will open once I hit the booze this weekend, but a lot of it is also that I know failure. I seem to do TTC failure quite well. So it's not as if failure is surprising to me. And, what I never thought would happen, is that I'm actually optimistic in a weird way. Big Clinic got me two good quality embryos out of two. I got a chemical. I had some HCG that registered on beta day, which is further than I've got before. I think we are on the right track, so that is giving me hope.

As for the future, well, I am all about moving on as quickly as possible. I have decided that there will be (at least) one more IVF. I don't think I can stop now. We almost got there, and I feel that I have to give Big Clinic two shots at this - it seems fair, as I gave my old clinic four shots at getting it right. Hopefully Big Clinic now has lots of data on how I react to their protocols, and next time we can do it even better. My current plan therefore is to do one more fresh IVF, then use up the lone frozen embryo that I have at my local clinic and then call it a day on my own eggs. And figure out what to do with the rest of my life - whether that involves child-free living or adoption or whatever. So, ever one for taking the bull by the horns, I asked the nurse who called with the beta results to transfer me to Dr. S.'s secretary so I could make the appointment for my post-IVF consult. Or my WTF consult as I like to think of it, following on from the tradition from another of those sites many of us met at. My appointment is for the 28th of this month and I hope to cycle again in October. Or November. Depending on how the schedule pans out. I will do coculture again, so that adds another wrinkle into the scheduling plans as it takes a cycle to get the biopsy done.

I have also signed up for one of those diet programs where they ship you all your food so you don't have to think about what to eat. I hope I will like it. It'd be nice to lose 10lbs or so before punishing my ovaries again. I have signed up to have the maximum medical flex savings account allowed by my company, which will part pay for the next IVF. And, errr, what else? Nothing really, except that I'm trying to plan what ridiculously expensive, indulgent treat I will allow myself this weekend. It will involve expensive alcohol at some point. I'm kind of in the mood for Champagne - as kind of an anti-celebration. I never seem to get to the point where Champagne would be warranted, so why the fuck not use it to drown my sorrows? Maybe with some fresh strawberries and whipped cream. And something else delicious to eat.

Thanks for the support, everyone, but it was not meant to be. This time.

Limbo

Hey, I had a pretty good prediction of the beta level there. The answer is in, and it's...

11.

They want me to stay on progesterone and go back in 2 days. Fuck. Limbo. I know it's hopeless but I'll be a good girl and do what they tell me to. It's not going to be viable but I guess we all have to go through the motions.

On the bright side, at least it's an official chemical and not an imaginary chemical like I had last time with some positive HPTs and a completely negative beta. So it is further than I've got before.

I did not acquit myself well at the RE's

I did an Equate when I got home from work yesterday. It was a stark white negative. A Big Fat Fucking Negative, in fact. This morning I did another Equate and a CVS test, the last two tests in my stash. Negative again on the Equate. A faint faint line on the CVS. Seeing as Equate is really the only test that has never steered me wrong with evaporation lines or other weird pseudo-positives, I tend to trust it.

I really think it's over. I think the embryo tried hard to implant and made it for a couple of days, and then failed.

I guess at least I got further than I have done previously, which is something to be grateful for.

So, anyway, I went for the beta this morning. I will know the results sometime this afternoon. My guess is that it may be something like 8. Or 12. I just hope that it's not in that limbo where they make me keep taking the progesterone and go back for a repeat beta when I know that'll be completely pointless and will just prolong the agony.

I was actually doing OK at the office, until I went back to the reception desk to pay. There in front of me was a perfect looking couple, in perfectly tailored clothes with perfectly expensive accessories. As I walked up they were inquiring if their daughter's photo was still on the baby board. The receptionist said she was. The husband sauntered back past me with his travel mug of coffee in hand and was all "oh look honey, here she is!" Then they started animatedly discussing the current success and waving their ultrasound picture around, and asking the receptionist to call one of the nurses out from her office so she too could look at the picture. At this point I knew I was falling apart and stepped back around the corner out of sight and started to sob. The nurse came up, rushed straight past me and started oohing and aahing over the fucking ultrasound. The wife was saying things like "we hope it's a boy this time". At least, that's what I could hear from the inside of my overlarge handbag as I stuck my head in rummaging for a tissue and trying to hide my face. Well, I'd have got my whole body in there if it would have fit. If only it was a teleportation handbag that could have whisked me away someplace, anyplace, else. They took forever over paying, and then finally left. I sobbed some more, then managed to compose myself enough to walk up to reception and get out a strangled "at least it works for some people" while handing over the credit card. Of course the receptionist was duty bound to say "it will work" in a soothing, concerned voice and "they tried many many times, and they did what you're doing now" which I took to mean they too had gone to another clinic. But I don't really know. I just wanted out of there. And frankly, most people I've met who've had multiple IVF failures are a damn sight more sensitive to the feelings of others in the RE's office than those two were, so not sure how well I believed the receptionist. I rushed out, tissue in hand, and sobbed in the car some more.

And now I'm at work, trying somehow to concentrate, and knowing that I'm going to fail miserably. How on earth do I get it together to do IVF#6? How on earth did this become my life?

A line is a line is a line, of course?

Wow, I've never had so many comments. Thank you all.

But, I don't think I have good news today.

I did a couple of tests yesterday evening. I got lines but they were not darker than the morning's lines. No worries, I thought, I'm just not one of those women whose lines are darker in the evening, I must need more concentrated pee. I also had some brown spotting yesterday which again I thought, hey, it's normal, no problems.

So, this morning's concentrated pee was eagerly anticipated. OK, well, not eagerly, but you know what I mean.

The digital test said Not Pregnant. There are lines on the other tests but they are, I would say, fainter than yesterday's lines. I think my plucky little embryo tried very hard to implant but sadly didn't quite make it. I think we're looking at a chemical at best.

I know, I know, it's not over until the beta. But my cautious optimism is now cautious pessimism and I'm just glad that I didn't start buying maternity clothes or anything like that yesterday in a fit of bravado.

Sigh.

Not the eloquent post I've been planning for years

When you've been trying to conceive for a while, you have this image in your mind of how it's going to be when you get that positive HPT. I imagined whooping and general celebrating, of immediately phoning my aunt. Of being sure. And happy. You know, how I would have been before infertility robbed me of my innocence in all matters HPT and pregnancy related.

Instead, yesterday I was fairly sure it didn't work, as you know. I mean, I didn't tell you that I did get a faint faint evaporation line type thing. After a few hours. That nobody without super-TTC-exacto-xray vision would ever be able to see. So it wasn't worth mentioning really. I'd planned an afternoon of chick flicks and ice cream with Stephanie, my local multiple-IVFer buddy. We have a support group of 2. And sometimes 3 when her husband comes too. Unfortunately, we've had far too many occasions where we need to get the support group out to commiserate for someone's bad news. Yesterday was supposed to be helping to cheer up Stephanie, who was supposed to have had an FET transfer this week but instead found out that all 4 frozen embryos didn't make it through the thaw. It's going to take them a year to save up again for another shot at IVF. Effing miserable bad luck and I am heartbroken for them.

And I started off being fairly good at commiserating, I think. Maybe. Except Stepanie looked at my super faint evaporation line thing and pronounced that she too could see something. See, she too has super-TTC-exacto-xray vision. Even though we needed the light of a thousand suns to see the damn thing. So she wanted me to pee on a stick while she was there. And I didn't want to. And she said she'd got her best results in the afternoons so I might as well give it a shot. And I didn't want to. Eventually she wore me down. Well, OK, it didn't take that much work, but I did wait until we'd seen one movie and were part way through another.

So I went to pee on a stick. And then refused to look at it because I was quietly confident of the result. So she went into the bathroom at the 10-minute mark, and came back to the living room saying that she couldn't quite believe she was carrying someone else's used peestick. But she saw a line. And I have to be honest, so did I.

And then my stomach dropped to roughly the level of my knees. And my brain went on strike. And all the ice cream I'd just eaten during the first chick flick started to make its prescence known in my stomach. And I couldn't quite comprehend what might be happening.

Stephanie wanted me to take a digital test. It was the only other type of test I had in the house. But I'd just pee'd. It was the afternoon. I was VERY confident that, even if I could squeeze a few drops out, it would be very negative. Stephanie threatened, er sorry, offered to push my stomach in to force my bladder to work. I reluctantly went back to the bathroom and managed to squeeze out a few drops.

The digitial said the p-word.

Oh my!

So I lost all track of the movie, dragged Stephanie to Wal-mart against her better judgement and we went on an HPT-buying spree. I called my bestest blogger pal Cali on the way. I was in complete disbelief and still couldn't get my brain around the idea. And then we went to CVS , and bought more. We went home, I pee'd in a cup and dipped a couple more tests. The Equate was negative. The Accuclear was not negative.

So this morning I woke up at 4am because I was hot and my back hurt and I figured I may as well do the pee tests. I dipped four of them. The digital said "not pregnant". Oh, I thought. Not so good then. But the other three all came up with second lines. Within 10 minutes. An Equate, an Accuclear and a Fact Plus. Here's the prettiest one:



Oh, OK, if you insist, here are all this morning's positives:



Ummm, it might have worked, people. It might just have worked. They're a bit faint but that's not really surprising as yesterday's test was negative. Hopefully tomorrow will be better, and hopefully I'll get a positive digital again. But I'm cautiously optimistic for now. Which for a bitter infertile is as close to celebrating as I'm going to get.

It was I that chopped down the cherry tree

11 dpo. I cannot tell a lie. I have tested. It was, quel surprise, negative. I know, I know, it's too early to be depressed. I don't even usually start testing until 12dpo for that very reason. It could still turn positive.

But still. Apart from my right boob hurting there is nothing going on with me. Nada. Zip. Zilch. I like to think that I would feel something. And, yup, I know, plenty of women have no symptoms whatsoever. And why the right boob, I wonder? Why not both together? Is it trying to tell me something? Kind of like a semaphore signal? Right boob = negative, left boob = positive, both together = twins?

I'm not even all that down. I feel kind of numb about the approaching blood test. Fatalistic. Resigned. I just don't know how I'm going to react if it's another negative. But I don't think shock or surprise is going to be one of my feelings. I'll probably just stare at the wall and cry quietly at the pointlessness of wasting so much of my life on this pursuit.

I just didn't expect that this would be my life. I didn't expect I would have to stare down childlessness like this. I didn't expect I'd get to the point of never having children. Well, none of us do, do we? We don't usually have an inkling at the age of 5 that we're going to suffer from infertility at some point. If I'd have known, I'd have started trying a lot earlier.

Oh well, tomorrow's another day, I know. Another day nearer to the end of this particular wait.

10DPO

I am getting worried. Very worried. I am worried that this IVF did not work. That yet another one will have failed and I'll have to face the big decision of what to do next. Well, it's not that big of a decision at all really. I know I want to cycle one more time. The problem is I'm seriously freaked out about going to NY again. People at work are going to be very suspicious of me going up there for another jaunt. I'm just not sure I can swing the time. It's going to be hard to arrange. Not to mention all sorts of expensive and difficult.

AND I have to go on a serious diet if this IVF failed. I have been bad again. I daren't weigh myself as I'm sure I'm above my previous all time high. I had been hoping I could just maybe not gain weight during the first trimester, then after the birth somehow breastfeed for like 15 years and lose the weight that way. But if it doesn't work then I need to have my jaws wired shut or something. A few of the girls at work are trying that liquid only "lose 21 p.oun-ds in 21 d.ays" diet. I might have to jump on the bandwagon just to get some of the pudge off. Not looking forward to that.

Oh well. I went for my progesterone test this morning at the local RE's. Big clinic does 'em on 10DPO and 12DPO and 14DPO (that last one along with the beta). But they don't tell you the results, which is fine by me. Unless of course they call up in a panic and tell me to start shooting up 4mg of PIO an hour or something. Which I doubt they'll do, so it's all a bit academic really.

Waiting, worrying

The worry is starting to seep into the chink in my armor. Right on time, 7 days after egg retrieval, 7 to go before beta.

I hope hope hope that this worked. I am trying to stay positive, I really am. But then. All I'm used to is failure and it's hard to imagine that THIS really will be the time it works. It's almost unimaginable. I keep telling myself that this time I had coculture, and TWO good embryos whereas before I've only ever had ONE good embryo at transfer (at best) even if I had more also-rans along for the ride.

This is going to be a long week, folks. If only they could put me into a coma for the next week so I don't have to wait so long.

Home alone (with the world's whiniest cat)

It may have been a rash move, but I decided to fly home yesterday, the day after my transfer. I had it all figured out, somewhat. My flight was at 2.55pm, and I'd booked the blue van that does airport transfers, except the latest pickup time they gave me was between 11.25 and 11.40am. I've never EVER set off for the airport that early. But no matter. I decided to pack as much as I could before going to the transfer, stay in my bed on Friday night, and then Saturday morning slowly finish off the packing while resting a lot. I figured I could have a nice lunch in the aiport and just spend a lot of time sitting down and it'd still be OK.

And it went pretty well, to start with. I'd stay on my feet for 10 minutes, get dressed, pack, whatever, and then lie down for 50 minutes. Apart from right at the end, when I was only able to lie down for half an hour. I did a quick double-check around the room, headed down to check out at 11.15. Checked out, all was lovely. Turned around to look for somewhere to sit and wait for the blue van, and there it was, stopping on the other side of the street, early. I walked outside with my case as the blue van did a u-turn in the street, handed the driver my case and sat down, smugly congratulating myself for not having to stand up for very long. The drive was a bit bouncy, but the seat was soft, and I was the last one to be picked up. And there was no traffic, and LaGuardia is pretty close to the part of NY that Big Clinic is located in, meaning that I was soon checking in for the flight a full 3 hours before it was due to take off. I have never done that before! I'm usually the one running to the gate after checking in late so it was quite an odd feeling. I asked the check-in guy if the most restaurants were before or after security, he said before, so I went to find them. I found myself some seating nearby, took my last antibiotic and proceeded to sit and wait for an hour to tick by so I could eat post-antibiotic. And then something in my brain clicked and I realized that I'd left my keys and checkbook in the room safe in the hotel. I'm sure I must have looked fairly comical smacking my forehead and rushing off to find a taxi rank.

As I was walking to the taxi rank I called the hotel, and explained my predicament, thinking that maybe to save me taxi fare they could mail the stuff to me, and thinking that I could always use my spare keys that I'd given my friends for feeding my kitty. The front desk guy said he'd put me through to the housekeeping manager, who said she'd put me through to the housekeeper, who kept asking me if I wanted the vase for flowers back or the water filter jug I left in the fridge. No, no, I kept saying, I don't want the water filter jug back, I left stuff in the room safe. Keys and a checkbook! The housekeeping manager came back on and said the housekeeper couldn't understand me. I repeated myself. She understood and went "oh!". Then said they could mail the stuff back, but it'd have to be COD. I decided it was pointless trying to wait for my keys to be mailed to me, when potentially they might mail me a Brita jug instead, so I decided there was obviously a reason why I was at the airport three hours ahead of time and said I was coming back.

One hour, a trip to the ATM and $60 on taxis later, I was back at the airport strolling into quite a nice restaurant and STILL having time for a leisurely lunch. Bizarre. And will I have learned my expensive mistake to always check the room safe before checking out? Only time will tell.

I had to unload all my medications on the belt to get through security, and the woman behind me in line was taking a good nose at all the boxes labeled follistim and menopur and the like. Nice. Nothing like having your life on display. But they let me through. The flight was fine, and minimally bumpy, I didn't have to wait for a taxi home, and then I arrived. To the whiniest cat in the world and a note from my friend saying that the automatic kitty litter thing didn't seem to be working. And a strange knocking sound coming from the air conditioning unit and a blocked sink. Now, OK, the blocked sink was my fault - it's been as slow as molasses for a very long time and I really meant to call a plumber before going away, but still. I went to look at the kitty litter. It was overflowing with poop, pee and litter. I think my friends just kept adding new litter on top rather than trying to figure out how to actually work it, and overloaded the motor. The comb thing that automatically scoops stuff was stuck at the wrong end of the unit, the waste receptacle lid wasn't attached properly and it was generally a bit of a disaster. The cat had also pooped on the floor in disgust at the conditions, and I can't say I blamed her. So I set to cleaning up, all the while kitty was whining pitifully.

Roughly translated I think my welcome home went something like "where've you been? you've been gone forever. i was alooone. those idiots didn't keep things clean for me. and they didn't feed me the nice tinned food you promised me. and i was alooone. did you hear me? i said i was alooone. bitch. i'm never talking to you again. but if you stroke me i might forgive you but only if you stroke me now now now and stop messing around with other stuff. and by the way, i was boooored. mmmmm, your legs feel good to brush up against. why aren't you giving me all your attention rightthisminute? don't you realize i was alooone?"

So I paid the cat some attention, lay down for a nanosecond, decided to call for some Chinese take out, went out, picked up far too much bad food, came back, ate it, then flopped into bed. With the cat still whining. Surprisingly, she let me sleep most of the night without too much whiny nonsense, and then promptly decided at dawn that it was a perfect time to get me up and out of bed so she could go explore the back yard. Except I didn't want to spring out of bed, so we had a mental tug-of-war until 11am with bouts of her whining, then coming back to bed resignedly for a few minutes to let me nap, then standing on my chest headbutting me in the face to wake me up again. Hey ho. It's good to be home, I guess.

Happy tears of joy

They both made it!  And not only that, they were both "very nice" 8-celled embryos. Coculture saved the day!  While Big Clinic does not give a grade at transfer, Dr. Sarah thinks that judging by the photo they are a grade 1 and 2, using my old clinic's scale.

SO relieved and happy!

More nervous

Not much to say so far today. I am so freakin' nervous, I am ready to jump out of my skin. I've never had so few embryos and am so worried that they won't make it to transfer. Big Clinic doesn't give out embryo information until you get there, and they don't want me there until 3pm. Thank god for valium, as it's only due to some leftover prescription from the last IVF (I didn't get any from Big Clinic) that I have any confidence in being somewhat relaxed to welcome the embryos home. I hope.

Aaaaaggh!

Nervous, nervous, nervous

That's all I'm going to say today. I'm worried about my embryos, and hoping they're dividing properly and are of good quality.

I'm pretty nervous that they're going to be crap, or worse, dead, and I'll be deeply depressed very very soon.

I just couldn't let it lie

I started stressing about the progesterone dosage. Yes, even though I said I wouldn't. So I emailed Dr. S. thinking that he probably wouldn't respond until tomorrow but he'd probably tell me to stay on 0.5cc and that'd be fine. Just so long as he was making the decision based on a full knowledge of my history, of course.

But he emailed straight back and said I may as well take the full 1cc dose. So that reassures me a bit.

I just hope my little embryos are doing OK. Please pull through, little ones, please work for me, embryo #'s 15 and 16.

The big phone call

Hmmm, well, I got the fertilization report. It's not exactly stellar news. Of the 7 retrieved, 4 were mature and only 2 fertilized normally.

Here's my progression:

14 retrieved, 10 mature, 7 fertilized / 50% fertilization rate, or 70% of mature eggs
5 retrieved, 4 mature, 4 fertilized / 80% fertilization rate or 100% of mature eggs
9 retrieved, 7 mature, 3 fertilized / 33% fertilization rate, or 42% of mature eggs
7 retrieved, 4 mature, 2 fertilized / 28% fertilization rate, or 50% of mature eggs

Seems to be getting worse as I get older. My guess is that IF I have to do another cycle, Dr. S. will want me to go back to the microdose lupron protocol, as he kind of wanted me to do this time. But, while I had my best cycle on it, which is what he was going off, I also had my worst cycle on it (the one where I was cancelled). So I'm not sure what I think of doing that. I guess I'll have to sit down and have a long discussion with him.

I know, I know, at this point some of you will be telling me to think positively. And I am, sort of. I know women who only had 2 who ended up pregnant. I know it can work with low numbers. I'm well aware of that. I am not moping, I'm really not. Just a bit deflated again. I guess 11.5's really can't catch up after trigger.

OK, well, moving on to other things. Alacrity asked what happened to my plans of not finding out my estrogen levels. Well, I did stick to that, sort of. I never asked a nurse for my estrogen level on the day the blood was drawn. But I did see the previous level on the screen when I went for my ultrasounds, yet I promise I haven't stressed out about them. Much.

And I wanted to post on my PIO conundrum. You see, I have always had sucky progesterone levels, and the only time I had a good blood test I was doing 1cc progesterone shots in the morning (about 1.5 hours before the blood draw) and suppositories in the evening. So I'm sure the bloodwork was off, because of all the newly injected progesterone still circulating in my bloodstream. Depending on estrogen levels, however, Big Clinic gives a dosage of 0.5cc or 1cc only. I was initially worried about that, and thought I would demand 1cc at least, no matter what. But I have since decided that I will take whatever dosage they set for me. If it is too low, my bloodwork will reveal that, and they can up the dose. And a lower dose will be better for me. And they need to have accurate feedback on my cycle. So I have to trust that they know what they are doing. And lo and behold, my instructions are to take 0.5cc only. So I'm going to do just that and hope for the best.

7 is my lucky number, I hope

I am back from retrieval and about to nap. But they got 7 eggs!  More tomorrow...

Words gone awry

What is UP with this format? At least posting from the blackberry this time I didn't include my work details, but I guess it messed with the formatting. Or maybe it's just my view that is off and it looks perfectly normal to everyone else. I don't know how to fix it though, so you're just going to have to hope it goes away on its own at some point.

Anyway, no call today from Big Clinic. Which must mean that my estrogen didn't drop. So that must mean that retrieval is ON. Thank God.

Oh, and I meant to post about my bruising. Unfortunately I didn't bring the camera with me because my carry on bag was chock full of medications and I had to jettison the camera at the last minute so that my bag had a hope of actually closing, but I have such an interesting bruise. All the bruises have merged into one gory purple/red/yellow/blue/green mess on my lower abdomen. And then there's a thin green vertical line going up into my belly button. Straight. Thin. Almost as if it were drawn on with a green pen. Right to the dead center of my belly button. Like the blood ran that way while I was standing on my head. While I was staying really still so it didn't meander. Or, like the blood emanated from my belly button and ran down my abdomen, pooling over the flab to cover the puncture marks with a lacy number like a doily. Quite artistic, really.

And there was something else I meant to post about, but the lack of sleep has affected my brain power, so you're just going to have to imagine that it was an interesting post. Maybe it was my estrogen levels? Here they are anyway: CD2 = 79.2, CD6 = 97.1, CD8 = 176, CD10 = 483, CD11 = 750. Yes, that's right, 750. On trigger day. It doesn't bode terribly well, does it? Especially when most people are up in the thousands.

Hey! A happy post!

Thank you, thank you, for your kind comments. It's so nice to know there are people out there rooting for me.

Well, today is a different day, a different story. I set my alarm for 1am so I could do the trigger shot at 1.10am. Did it, it all went fine, got back into bed at 1.15am. Except I couldn't get back to sleep for a long time. And then I woke up in the middle of the night having a nightmare about my poor kitty being badly badly injured and me trying to call an emergency vet service in the middle of the night to have her put to sleep to ease her suffering, but my hands were shaking so much and my mind was stressing that I kept dialling the numbers wrong. And then when I finally got back to sleep a crying baby in the next room woke me up. And then the alarm was going off again at the ungodly hour of 5.20am.

So I was pretty groggy this morning for the post-HCG retrieval instructions meeting at which they tell us what to do tomorrow. There are 12 or 13 retrievals tomorrow. I think I am number 11. Or maybe number 10, who knows. Anyway, they are estimating that my retrieval will be at 10.30am. Ish.

But! Here's the good news - Big Clinic does an ultrasound after trigger for another follicle measurement. My old clinic never did that, so it's new to me. And there was a 20mm follicle on my right ovary! The doctor said "Whoa! Was this really 11.5 yesterday? Maybe this says 18.5 and I just can't read it right. " To which I told her that it was indeed 11.5 yesterday. She exclaimed several more times at how surprised she was that it grew so fast. I asked if fast growth was a problem, and she said no. Not sure I entirely believe her, but man I'm VERY pleased that it did that. It gives me hope that maybe just maybe I'll get more than 4 mature.

The ones on the left looked more evenly sized. The big ones hadn't grown much, if anything. In fact, I wondered if the RE yesterday only did one measurement and not a combination of two. But the smaller ones had caught up some. So would it be very greedy to hope for 6 mature eggs? That'd be nice, huh?

Deflated

Well, I just got the call. Trigger is tonight. At 1.10am to be precise. And then I have to be at Big Clinic at 6.30am for something or other. Nice. And then egg retrieval will be on Tuesday.

I feel so deflated. Why?  Why did this happen?  How on earth do my follicles grow so quickly?  Did the RE today measure them correctly?  What is going on?  Was I on too high of a dose? 

And why can't people shut the fuck up in their hotel rooms?  I am surrounded by noise today after quietness during the week.  Just when I'd like to stare at the wall and not think about anything. 

Anyway, what will be will be, but it doesn't stop me from crying. It wasn't supposed to be this way. I try so hard to be healthy. I try so hard to do everything I'm supposed to do. And it doesn't work the way it is supposed to.  And I don't know why. 

OK, sorry, I'm whining.  It could be worse, I know. I will square my shoulders and see what happens. It really does only take one good egg after all, eh?  So I hope this is it. It better be, because you guys might have to put up with a whole lot more whining if it doesn't work. Again.

Effing hell

I've gone from a tad bit disappointed to downright annoyed.

Yesterday, contrary to what I predicted, they had me drop the dose of stims and come back this morning. The news this morning was not good. Yesterday's largest follicle was 14.2. Today it was 20. I had an 18 and a 17.5 as well. So it looks like I am triggering tonight. There are 2 more follicles that may also make it (15.5 and 14.5) and an also ran (11.5).

I am pissed that this happened. To go from nice and slow and steady to ridiculously fast just makes me very mad at the world. I'm so tired of getting crazy fast development. Surely it isn't good for egg quality?  Twenty grand for 3 good sized follicles is not a great return on my investment, especially when those follicles have developed unevenly.  I had 11 antral follicles - why couldn't I have had 10 or 11 develop?  Is that too much to ask?

I know, I shouldn't be ungrateful. I'm not cancelled. I could have 4 or 5 mature eggs. I've seen it work for women with fewer. It could all still work out. And yet it's just very frustrating. Very frustrating indeed.

Saturday blahs

I have to admit, I'm a tad bit disappointed this morning. I had my ultrasound and there were 5 worth measuring, with the largest being 14mm. It seems like it would be hard for others to catch up, especially as Big Clinic likes to trigger early.

But, no matter. At least I'm not dealing with the spectre of cancellation. There are 5 with a hope of some more. You just never know, some of the smaller ones could easily put on a growth spurt.   And there's that old "quality vs quantity" thing. It will be what it will be. I'm not going to waste energy fretting.

Saw the estrogen levels again, and I'm kinda confused. See, Big Clinic uses two estrogen scales and I don't know which one is the normal one. I think it wasn't the values I gave before. Not that it changes anything but my estrogen has either been 79.2, 97.1, 176 or 79.2, 153,  214. Either way, at least it's going up.  The EWCM has started, so I know it's higher today too. 

If I'm in a predicting mood, my guess is that my instructions will be to stay on the same dose and go back on Monday.

So that's me. I had plans for a trip to The Cloisters today but it looks like it's going to rain so I'll have to see how it goes.  It's part of the Met and you get free admission if you go on the same day. I'll see what's happening when I'm done with the first part of the plan. 

AND what I thought was going to be a pain au chocolat at the cafe I'm currently sitting at turned out to be filled with some cheesy stuff. So that's another blah for the morning.

Blah humbug.