For 11.30 tomorrow morning. Unfortunately they don’t disturb the embies on day 2, so I don’t know how they’re going. We’ll have to wait until transfer time to decide how many to put back, and whether any are making it to freeze.
Thanks for all the support after my pity party yesterday. I recognize that the ICSI numbers are nothing to complain about- it was mostly the IVF half that freaked me out. But I suppose the thing to take away from this (assuming, knock wood, that all embies are still growing and dividing) is that if we ever have to do this again (and I’m really hoping not), we’ll know what to do, and we’ll ICSI the lot. And, if all six embies are happy and healthy tomorrow, that’s oodles.
I am feeling LOADS better today. Still tender and sore, but not nearly as bloated. I lost six pounds overnight! (I know exactly where it went too- I spent the whole night running to the washroom, and I didn’t drink anything after about 7 pm.) So despite all of my whinging and moaning, this diet is clearly working. That gave me the strength to keep sucking back the Gatorade this morning. I’ve got two or three pounds to go to be back at the weight I was before we started stimming. But even if I don’t drop any more, I’ll be satisfied. The blocked up digestive system has also been resolved, which is another relief.
So there should be nothing standing in the way of our transfer tomorrow. Even though I try to avoid my computer on the weekends, I promise I’ll come in to give you the update.
Amusing story. Last night Q. and I were making dinner (ok, he was making dinner, and I was lolling around on the couch like a slug), and he started asking me about how the needle gets to the ovaries. So I had to explain that it had to get through the vaginal wall first.
“Hmmm.” said Q. “I guess that explains the blood. And why it was so big.”
“Was it really big?” I asked.
“You didn’t see it?”
“No. I’ve got no recollection of it at all.”
“He probably gave you a whole heap of drugs before he started. It was f-ing enormous.” Q. held out his hands to demonstrate. I immediately curled up to protect my belly, and wrapped my arms around my mid-section. I’ve never really understood why men instinctively cower if they see someone get kicked in the crotch on television. Now I get it.
I am really, really glad I didn’t see that needle.