A long day

I barely had time to breathe today. I like days at work where I feel like I'm useful, but I like being useful for a bit less than 11 hours straight, thanks.

** **

So, an update. Retrieval Monday: five eggs. Not great. But found out today that four of the five fertilized-- pretty good!

There are four little embryos off in a petri dish somewhere, plugging away. Think good thoughts for them, please. May at least a couple of them continue to do their thing, and be of good quality.

Another romantic Saturday night

I got dressed up, went to a party, and left the party early so I could come home and shoot myself in the tuchus with an extraordinarily large needle. Aren't you jealous?

Yes, it's trigger shot night-- 36 hours before Monday's retrieval. Of course, I'm worried I did it wrong. But no way to know that right now, I guess.

Driving home from the party, I thought about why I'm doing this. I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I wonder, and that I doubt sometimes the road I'm on. I'm old, I'm single, my job is precarious (and could be even more so if I actually get pregnant; we've been bought by a conservative organization, and I'm in a fairly visible role)...

Sometimes, you stay on a path because you're too stubborn to abandon that path. That's not it entirely, but it's part of it, for sure. And I suspect the doubt is because side effects from all the drugs caught up with me today, in terms of extreme exhaustion. Never think Big Life Thoughts when you can barely stay awake.

Speaking of which, I think it's time for bed. Entertaining, since I got 8+ hours last night, and had a nearly two hour nap this afternoon (unplanned-- I just sort of fell over). Like I said, side effects.

The glamorous, romantic life of me. Hold back your jealousy, please.

Who needs fancy?

Friends came over tonight and brought bags of tacos, and media. The tacos are from a little hole in the wall place on the near south side, and they're absolutely perfect. Just tortillas with meat, fresh chopped cilantro, lime, and onion. You can get cheese, or avocado, but... you don't need it. They are perfectly done in their simplicity. We chowed down.

Also, they brought media. Theoretically I'll have two days' bedrest after the transfer, and I've put out the call: lend me books and movies so I don't go completely mental, please. I have wonderful friends who've responded to the call, with everything from Major League to Nigella Lawson.

FYI, retrieval is scheduled for Monday.

We'll see.

I have a problem

I love Tar.get. I might even be addicted to Tar.get.

Now, in the realm of problems, this is a mild one. But... it's the perfect store. I even have the Super version, so I can do all my grocery shopping, try on shoes, get air filters for the furnace, and find a cute skirt. ALL IN ONE PLACE.

I am a simple person.

Obviously.

Better news

So! Whatever I did over the weekend worked. The follicles are growing like crazymad. They just took their own sweet time.

The nurse asked if I wanted the numbers, and I said no. I suspect I'm the only fertility patient in the history of forever that didn't ask for her numbers; I can tell from reading various forums that those numbers are currency. But I don't remember numbers. All I know is I went from two small, silly little follicles to a whole mess o'them. They are "in play," according to the nurse.

Go follicles!

I had various people offering theories about what would get my apparently lazy follicles to take some action. (Note: I'm lazy. My follicles are lazy, too. Hee!) One friend suggested getting Hugh Jack.man and George Clo.oney in a room for me, which I thought was a terrific idea. Another friend said listening to the dulcet tones of Josh Gro.ban would work. (Sue me. I like melodic tenors, even if they're overproduced.)

My favorite was the friend on Friday night who said that I should drink a lot, thus perhaps reminding my ovaries of my wild and crazy youth-- when you spend all your time trying to avoid getting pregnant, not encouraging it.

Whatever it was-- liquor, laughing with friends, eating Indian food-- don't know. Don't care. It worked.

Updates as I have them!

Think growing thoughts

Five days in, on ginormous doses of two different stimulants, follicles are not growing.

This is Not Good. I go back in on Monday, and if nothing's happening, this cycle is cancelled.

Now, a lot can happen in the next two days, and some women take longer to react to stims than others. But given my already miniscule odds, this is a bad thing.

Think good, growing, egg-a-licious thoughts, please.

These needles, I don't mind

Not everyone needs acupuncture. Not everyone wants acupuncture. (We had to stop talking about it this weekend in front of my dad, who went completely white when I started describing some of the points my acupuncturist uses. If I didn't love him so much, I could totally screw with him.)

But if it's something you've ever considered, for whatever reason, I'm going to be the non-paid-spokesperson here and say: give it a try.

Of all the things I've learned on this journey to potential IVF-momhood, the thing that probably suprises me the most (other than the fact that I've now shot myself up in a bathroom stall-- because that's never going to stop being completely freaking bizarre) is how much I like acupuncture.

It is relaxing. It is refreshing. It is, almost every time, an oasis in my day (or week), and I come out of it feeling more focused and more serene. Regardless of whether it helps with my nearly impossible IVF (TBD!), it absolutely does help with my tension levels, and it has helped with a couple of other minor things related to medication side effects.

I just might be addicted. In a good way, not a shooting-up-in-a-bathroom-stall kind of way.

Heh.