I’ve been uncommunicative, as there’s little to report on the ttc side.
I started the Buserelin nasal spray last Monday, finishing the contraceptive pill at the weekend. My face is itching like hell and has erupted into spots over the last few days, which I guess must be related. Not ideal going to a business networking event tonight looking like a pubescent teenager (especially annoying when I didn’t get spots myself as a pubescent teenager). I’m not drinking much water and have treated myself to the odd cafetière of coffee these last two weeks, so I possibly have only myself to blame.
Other than that I would hardly know I am on a frozen embryo transfer cycle. I forgot to take the second of my three nasal sprays yesterday – didn’t realise until taking my final one before going to bed. I think this is the first time I’ve completely forgotten to take my meds, so it’s a mark of how much more relaxed I am this time around, or how relatively unchallenging an FET cycle is. My first scan is on Thursday morning, so hopefully they will confirm that all is still on track with the down regulation.
I’m not totally relaxed, of course. The prospect of premature and/or ill twins and the effect of that on my family and the other people around me is scaring the living daylights out of me. But as we don’t even know if this cycle will even result in pregnancy, there’s little point in worrying. It’s hard to plan when you don’t know what, if anything, you will be dealing with. As we’ve said before, you have to take this one baby step at a time.
I was at another 40th birthday party recently and I think I was asked three times “How many kids do you have?” Not just, “Do you have kids?” I found myself answering “Zero” in a slightly prickly way the third time. I guess sometimes people assume you have your own if, in the midst of a conversation about their own kids, you respond any way knowledgeably (just politely making conversation, people) but it still irked me. One of the girls I spoke to had twins four months ago – I knew they were conceived by IVF, but she didn’t know I knew, so it was an odd conversation for me, with six embryos of my own on ice. We could have had a much more meaningful chat. And really she, of all people, should have known better than to have asked that question. Or maybe I am just too convincing and knowledgeable on the baby score and should stop being so bitter.
I was picking the last of the strawberries from the garden the other week. Whereas the first crop looked like this ie plump and juicy
the last crop was full of smaller, more irregularly shaped and generally not as delicious looking berries. So, naturally, one-tracked-minded as I am, they brought to mind a diagram I had seen online representing egg quality in women of “advanced reproductive age” – the red dots in the diagram (scroll down) are the bad eggs.
Some nice imagery there, IVF friends: “If we (randomly – with our eyes closed) dip a soup ladle into the (42 year old) ovary (upper one) and get 4 dots – are any of them green? It is likely that they would all be red – which would result in a failed IVF cycle.”
So far, to the best of my knowledge, no one has dipped an actual soup ladle into my ovaries, so small mercies there. Although, I wasn’t conscious during the egg retrieval, so who knows what went on. Maybe the embryologists behind the hatch like to egg on (I’m not deliberately throwing in all this egg imagery, it’s just happening) the doctor and nurse during retrieval to try out an ever more bizarre selection of implements just to mix it up a bit. Spatula, spaghetti tongs, lemon zester. A turkey baster for that old-skool feel.
I should point out that, despite appearances, the last batch of strawberries tasted just as good as the earlier ones. Maybe less a metaphor for the benefits of late motherhood anxiously awaited than simply explained by the fact that the strawberries that ripened last might have been of a different, smaller variety. I’ll take either.