So now we wait

All being good, Thing1 and Thing2 are now a healthy 32 cells, cocooned in their incubator and we find out on Saturday if they’re blastocysts and going to be implanted. 

Meanwhile, I am taking the progesterone, and turning into Dolly Parton. I think I need a bigger bra. I also think a bigger bra would be tempting fate. Jinxing everything. 

I am stuck on Autumn Rose until my new knitting needles arrive from from Deramores, so I am making Christmas Pudding Hats for L’s twins.  The cute will be unbearable. I went a bit mad and bought the beginnings of a Knit Picks Karbonz interchangeable set (random 30% off sales will do that to a girl). I now have 4 sets of interchamgeable needles. Should anyone like a set of Denise needles or some brightly coloured metal ones, free gratis, sing out. There is a limit and I think I have hit it. The older sets have served me well, but the new Karbonz are now my preferred brand. I have knit those hats before: the leaves are just as fiddly as I remember. However, I have done one already. 3 to go. Or 5 if I make a hat for T’s baby. 

I still have the attention span of a gnat. And my midriff feels like it has been foam rollered today. So no running for a bit. It could be much, much worse and I am pretty lucky, all things considered. 



It ain’t over yet

We have two eggs which have hit the four cell stage. 

Naturally, we are trying to decided whether to put them down for Eton, Harrow, or Hogwarts. 

(Feeling somewhat more hopeful than yesterday. I catastrophised yesterday). 


Three fertilised eggs…

They’d expected 6 from 11 harvested eggs. Three? There’s almost no chance that we’ll get to the next stage. 

So I guess we try this all over again in a couple of month’s time. Maybe. 

I am rapidly reaching the conclusion that we are not destined to be parents. I have been wondering about this for a while. It is all such a struggle at every single st. Nothing has gone particularly straightforward, and this is a lot of time, effort, resources, and money to invest in something where the odds are so stacked against you that, if it were a horse, there is no way you’d put the money down. 


A dozen eggs

Of which 10 look good to try for fertilisation. 

Tomorrow, we find out how many actually fertilise. 

Then how many look like they will divide. Then we hope to get, from these, enough to put one in me, and have one or two to freeze. The aim is nice mature blasocysts on Saturday. But if things don’t behave overnight, we look for less mature but dividing cells to go in Wednesday. 

I am still a little loopy from the anaesthetic and a bit tender, but I have had a Very Good omelette (very Gavin and Stacey) and we plan curry tonight. 


So it’s all about IVF

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.