Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Balloon or pincushion? You decide.

I'm on day four of meds, day three of stims, and so far the only side effect is that my lower belly has puffed up like the proverbial balloon. It's a balloon with little needle marks on it, in fact. It's fascinating. Actually, it would be more fascinating if it wasn't my belly.

There don't seem to be many other side effects. I seem to be more light-headed than usual, although there's been a lot of work stress this week, and that may have something to do with it. I'm probably imagining things when I think that I can feel my ovaries working hard. I am extremely sensitive to medication (I generally only have to take one of anything, even if the recommended dose is two), though, so maybe it's not entirely my imagination.

I had my first post-meds ultrasound this morning, and there are some follicles growing, but of course it's too early to know what will happen. I go back Friday, then probably again Monday. If things do progress, retrieval will probably be middle or late next week.

Is it wrong that I'm looking forward more to the day off work than I am to the retrieval itself?

It's been a rough week.

** **

I did indeed have to give myself medicine in an airport bathroom, too. I never thought I'd be shooting up somewhere like that, but I suppose the fact that it's legally prescribed medication makes it OK.

It was still extraordinarily bizarre. I felt like I was in some kind of bad Lifetime movie. Maybe Valerie Bertinelli (pre-bikini) could play me, and then there could be a tearful courtroom scene at the end where she/I explained that I was shooting up in the bathroom stall for a good cause. And then I'd be acquitted and end up smooching some cute guy. (I'm not sure what cute guys star in Lifetime movies these days.)

The actual shooting up isn't so bad. The needles are small. Smallish, anyway. They don't get big until later. I've also started icing the skin a bit, and that seems to help-- psychologically, if nothing else.

IVF isn't for lightweights, let me tell you. This is not a lot of fun. But it's still a privilege, and I shouldn't be complaining about how my diamond shoes are too tight. I'm lucky, and I know it.

** **

Because I know everyone's just fascinated with all this stuff, let me just say that I had a donor all picked out-- finally-- and got the paperwork filed today so I could order tomorrow.

He's RETIRED. No more. Off the market. What? Hello? He was available LAST NIGHT. It took me forever to pick him. I liked him, I finally picked him, and he's gone. This is not fair.

I moved over to a different bank and now have three possibilities. Talk about power shopping... All are normal looking, tall, seem to be fairly smart, have decent family medical histories, and don't appear to be serial killers.

It's such a crap shoot. My pool is also limited-- you should forgive the pun-- by the fact that I want to use a donor that's willing to be identifiable. If I was going with anonymous, my choices would be endless. Far fewer men choose the ID donor option. I don't know if I blame them, frankly, but it means that my choices are far, far less.

I considered going anonymous, but... no. That's not for me. And as long as I can find donors that meet my requirements in the identifiable pool, that's where I'll stay.

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