No running, some knitting, a fair amount of walking, and lots of injections.
I seem to have responded better than average: after 3 days, the dose for the hormone which provokes egg growth got dialled back to half the dose one of my friends had for her last round of IVF. My first scan had 19 follicles firing, and the second, two days later, had 23. I feel a bit sore, a little bloated, but I haven’t yet needed the next size up jeans and PJs I’d bought from eBay. I’ve been tired, but not vastly crabby, and, overall, the hormonal emotional upheaval has been less dire than it was with Clomid.
Tomorro is egg retrieval day. At the clinic for 7am, general anaesthetic, hoover them out, mix them up in a petri-dish and hope that by Friday we have some blasocysts to put back in. Well. One to put back, and some more to keep in reserve.
I honestly think I have the easy part tomorrow. I get to have a zizz. N has to produce a sample while I’m under. This has to be one of the more stressful things to ask a man to do. Ever. Poor guy. Because: he just worries when I’m out of action.