One in the ute, five in the freezer

It's done. There is one very attractive four celled embryo within the confines of my uterus, and another five in the deep freeze.

Our doc says it was a beautiful cycle, and that all we need to do is cross our fingers that said embie is genetically OK. Then again, he could have just been on a high because he was off to Melbourne to watch his beloved West Coast in tomorrow's AFL Grand Final. Can you trust an Eagles fan?

So there you have it. Only four people present at what is hopefully the start of the poo monkey's usurper sibling's existence Now all I have to do is try and avoid fixating on the success rate of day 2/3 transfers versus blastocysts. Oh yeah, and ignore the endless abdominal protests courtesy of the cramp inducing cooter cream known as Crinone.

Wouldn't it be nice if this works, and then we can get #3 from one of our little popsicles. It would kill mr hissychick. A girl can dream!

[Tip for the day: if you have always found gynae exams uncomfortable to say the least, open your mouth and ensure that your tongue is not on the roof of your mouth. You can't tense up as much. Trust me girls, it works.]

Lucky eight

Had the call from the lab:

10 eggs were injected with mr hissychick's sperm, and eight have fertilised. I can live with that.

Day two transfer booked for 10 to 10 tomorrow morning, and we'll freeze what is left, depending on how the little critters go between now and then. Divide for your life little embies!

It's such a mind fuck, this waiting game. Oh well, no time to navel gaze, am dead tired after a bad night with the poo monkey. Was it illness...or can she sense competition in the air?

Legs eleven

Eleven eggs retrieved at this morning's pickup.

It's all quiet on the western front until tomorrow morning's pick a number, any number of embies phone call. Hopefully mr hissychick's sperm did their thing, after almost being scared out of making an appearance (note to nurses: do not knock on the door of a man who is mid date with the cup).

That is all.

I've pulled the trigger

At least ten nice big juicy follies were seen at this morning's cooter cam extravaganza, so at 5:30 pm* this evening I had my trigger shot in preparation for egg pick up on Wednesday morning at 7 am.

Kapow.

* And I nearly didn't make the deadline, no thanks to the joke that is Sydney traffic, followed by the complex scientific lab procedure dead easy mixing process involved to prepare the injection when one has a tired hungry toddler in tow.

Now to deal with the onerous task of insurance companies- and how to extract money for loss of frozen food courtesy of the wee little power failure that is still ongoing in our part of the world. If someone else in the media mentions the self fulfilling words 'horrific upcoming bushfire season' or the like I am going to scream, and insert crinone gel in a particular orifice of said offender where the sun don't shine.

Hard boiled

Just did injection number six (150 IU) AND I can't fit into my jeans thanks to my hugely bloated drug fuelled belly AND I am a moody cow from hell who couldn't even be polite on the phone to an interstate hubs AND the poo monkey is now saying "I want", for the love of god I do not need her to assert her autonomy right now.

Did I mention that my clothes don't fit on day six of stims?

Hurry up Friday bloods. There better be a baker's dozen of beautiful googies in there or I'm going to go postal cry.

(I guess now is not the time to write a catch up post on last Friday, which was our 5th wedding anniversary. We celebrated by taking the poo monkey to Featherdale Wildlife Park and our girl was absolutely thrilled with the chance to feed the kangaroos, offering "more! MORE!" even though her big grey of choice was absolutely stuffed. Oh look, that'll do.)

Stick it sister

It's official: I survived my first attempt at putting a needle into my own flesh.

I was too much of a wuss to do the needle thing for the IVF cycle that (eventually) resulted in the poo monkey..and I will admit to being a huge sooky lala last night before I did the deed.

But you know what? It wasn't that bad. The needle bit that is. Can't vouch for the drugs, I know how bloated I am going to get by the time I go to the clinic for bloods this Friday. Not to mention emotional (thanks for the work on that aspect of my mind to date, friend GnRH agonist).

I am barely a syringe width away from injecting smack straight into my eyeball.

Must be off to snort the Syneral right now, then get out the spoon and tourniquet injection pen and associated accoutrement for the follie stim high at 9pm.

Whee!

One more thing before I go. As I was getting into the shower this morning, the poo monkey did her usual gleeful giggle at my "boobies". Then a new move. She pointed at my admittedly hirsute nether regions and loudly declared "pom pom". Is that a sign I need to get to work on tidying up before next week's cooter cam and egg collection action or what?

(Mood) swings and roundabouts

Let's see if I can organise my thoughts:

1.Cycle update
There isn't much of excitement to report, unless you like hearing about hot flushes in glorious detail. Which you aren't getting. So nerr. Tomorrow is first bloods and learn how to be a junkie day. Hooray and stuff.

2. The poo monkey
Gorgeous as ever...snotty as ever..and food fussy as ever. In other words, and entirely normal almost nineteen and a half month old.

I continue to be amazed and flabbergasted at her language development and how quickly it is taking place. Her mind is simply soaking up the English language. Our girl now sings along to her favourite wiggles songs. She can sing the "'ans in air/rockabye bear/ bear sleep/ shh shh shh" bit of her eternal favourite, "Rockabye your bear". She also sings bits of "Numbers Rhumba", "Dorothy the Dinosaur"- especially the spelling bit!- and the does the most hilarious version, including actions of "Quack quack" (imagine a toddler squealing quack! quack! cockadodledo with delight as she mimics the Wiggles' funky dance moves).

Little miss also loves participating in negotiation/decision making conversations..which is fantastic as we are seeing less and less of the dreaded tantrum face as a result. She is quite happy to tell you when something is "nice" or "better" or "enough", and will answer either "okhay" or "no when you tell her something like if we do x first, you can watch the wiggles after that. The poo monkey is also quite clear when she wants to join in ("Abi too") or do something for herself ("abi do it"). Simply amazing.

Our girl is now getting into all things three...although the obsession with two remains. Two new obsessions are kissing her reflection in the mirror, and pointing herself out in photos..even as a baby!

I could go on, and on...and I usually do...but I want to get onto another topic that's been on my mind when the mood unpredictably turns that wee bit darker...

3. The dumb/assholish comments people make when they find out you're doing IVF

This has been done well by others, but here's my take on a few of the hoary old chestnuts that have popped up again lately:

You're doing IVF again? But I heard from a friend of a friend who did IVF for number one, and then fell pregnant naturally with number two because her body knew what to do...

Oh, how nice. I suppose you also knew someone who was just about to adopt and the same thing happened? Stupid me, I forgot that fertility problems are a female only issue. Of course it's up to me to miraculously make our male factor issue disappear with the magic powers of my previously occupied uterus. I mean, it's also up to me as to whether we have a girl or a boy right? Off with my head if an X rather than a Y sperm is involved in fertilization. Tell me,
how many years of biology did you do at school?

But you've already got one beautiful child and you should just be happy with that...

I am happy, indeed blessed with my beloved and precious daughter. Now, which one of your kids are you going to hand back?

Doesn't IVF increase you risk of cancer because it isn't natural?

Great, thanks for your support. I'd tell you about the research done to date but it's clear to me that you don't want to hear something that doesn't back up your own assumptions. Speaking of unnatural, how about that heart/asthma/diabetes medication of yours...

And of course, my all time favourite:

You guys need to do IVF? I only have to look at my husband and I'm pregnant. Really, we are as fertile as the Nile delta,blah blah boring..

This really, really should be answered with a fuck you asshole. Would you speak to a friend who has told you that they have terminal cancer about how healthy you are, and that your GP told you you would be running marathons at 80? I don't care about the fact that you and your partner just have to shag to make a baby. Congratulations on finding the right hole (and thanks for your other helpful advice about doing it "right"). Now fuck off, this isn't about you at all.

There. Much better.

It's ok to spray

I'd forgotten just how shite Syneral makes you feel as you commence down the road to the pseudopause. My mind is mushy and headachey, my nose is as irritated as a coke addict and my muscles feel like jelly.

Meh.

Thank whatever for the poo monkey, and her ability to point out and loudly declare "man boobies".