A new, and exciting, development. My left ovary is 9cm across, and sloshing about in about 200ml of liquid. Bizarrely, I still fit into my jeans (must be the cut) but I have been put onto sofa rest and have to have another scan on Wednesday.
It seems there’s not much you can do to prevent Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome. Treatment is rest and liquid. Complications involve DVT and fluid on the lungs (but hey! Don’t exercise!). At worst they’ll send me to hospital and hook me up to a drip. But it does seem that all you can do is wait it out. Apparently, it will resolve faster if I’m not pregnant. What a thought.
I haven’t slept enough. My health insurance doesn’t cover complications of IVF (but my consultant is also a consultant at the local hospital, so I am sure I can skip the private hospital if I am well enough to argue the toss…and I have savings for this sort of eventuality). I am a Bit Worried about it all. I have been signed off work, but I could wfh I reckon. Will see what the result of the next scan is. It seems disingenuous to not work when my brain is mostly functional. On the other hand, the Christmas Cards are getting done. And they didn’t ask if I could wfh. Just that I stop working and self-certify. Aye me. So complicated. Such an ethical conundrum. The thing is: other than this build up of fluid, I feel fairly symptom-free. Very little pain. Some slightly darker pee (so I have something to drink: but I’m a runner. I am obsessed with the shade of my pee anyhow and I suspect my tolerance level of pee colour is lower than most peoples’). Some bloating, but no worse than I’ve had pre-menstrually.
This is an incoherent brain dump.
Stick, Thing1, stick!
We also have one in the freezer. This is more or less as good as it could be. I have spent the afternoon being rather lazy on the sofa watching silly films, based on a study done in an Israeli clinic where they sent in a clown to entertain women after IVF and got better results.
Well. Why not giggle?
Of course, I’m not actually pregnant until a proper HCG test, and anything could happen in the next 2 weeks until that happens.
It’s been slow, ponderous, emotionally strained, anxious and sleepy.
On the plus side, no-one has phoned to say Thing1 & Thing2 have given up the ghost, so I guess we are all go for tomorrow.
This is faintly terrifying, as well as being exciting. I’m going to go knit. We need to be on the 7:46 train tomorrow, and the only time I’ve made it out of bed before 7:46 this week was Monday.
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.
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).
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.
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.