I’m going to keep this short and sweet, and I imagine therefore dead factual and boring. I hope the joke police don’t arrest me (yes, Jenny Dogs Aren’t Kids, I’m taking to YOU). If you are a grumpy old fart too, I’m sounding the mundane alarm, ringing the boring bell, shaking the turd tambourine and banging the banal bongo. You’ve been warned.
Before I launch into my second stim scan appointment post mortem report, you know how it’s sorta funny when you see a really tall person next to a really small person? Or a really big dog next to a really small dog? I went for a walk yesterday and I found out it’s funny for cars too:
I feel like I should sell that to a greeting cards company. It could totally be some kind of lurve card; an engagement card or something? Call me Hallmark, I got loads more crap pictures where that came from.
So, the appointment. I know what most of you want to know, so I’ll start with my pre-appointment nervous wee. I didn’t need one, but I went to my usual toilet anyway and had a sit down. Usual nurse was there etc etc. All good. I didn’t get chance to write down all the measurements today, but as I recall I have 4 good ones on the right now measuring 22, 19, 18 and 16. Lazy lefty has made a half-assed mediocre effort and now has one at 13 and a load of titchers. I have injected my final Menopur, and my trigger is safely stowed away in the fridge. I’m shooting up at 10pm tonight and I’m first on the egg collection conveyor belt at 9am on Friday.
I had a little pathetic happy cry on the way home because I got too excited that I have 4-5 follicles that might contain 4-5 eggs that might make a baby. Then I had a little sad-sack-boo-for-me cry when I realised how unlikely that is to happen, and how many times I haven’t been pregnant already.
I have been scared the last 6 weeks that the drugs wouldn’t work again. Now I’m scared they won’t be able to reach any eggs, and that they won’t make any embryos. I’m scared that if they do and they transfer one or two that there is something else wrong with me that I don’t know about yet. Why have I never been pregnant? Never? Ever? 7 years of marriage and not one scare (of the pregnancy variety). I’m scared that my eggs are fertilising every month but something else is stopping them from implanting and I’ll only find that out through multiple rounds of IVF.
I’m going to stop looking too far ahead now. I also have a horrible feeling that those worries above are from the same worry shop as worrying about how fat you are when you are pregnant, complaining about morning sickness and whining that you don’t get enough sleep now you are a parent… I.e. THEY ARE NOT WORRIES. I WOULD KILL TO BE WORRIED ABOUT THAT. STOP COMPLAINING YOU STUPID IDIOT.
I will take my own advice now and stop worrying/stop being an idiot. Actually I am not sure I have much control over 50% of that.
P.s. Ok, so WordPress has moved on from me wanting to tag my posts with Breaking Bad to Aspergers Syndrome and Jerry Newport? What? Why? And who is Jerry Newport anyway?