4 Days Post Transfer and I Feel Fine

...and trying not to read anything into the tiny signs.

Tired? It's rainy and gray outside. Who's not tired during that weather?

Crazy irritability? (at G drinking from a cup in the car too many times - the pick and and put back of the cup had me heading over the edge). I will explain this away by just stating that it was truly annoying. Okay, okay - and probably b/c of my tiredness and the fact that I'm still injecting notable amounts of hormones into my butt every day.

When that bra fits - the one I had to buy a few short months ago because of a little extra unexpected "growth" - then, perhaps, I will have my first true sign that this will be a positive.

But, honestly, for now - it's just a day to day wait. Wait-and-try-not-to-think-about-it.

10 days.

Picture

This is the image they give us as we're doing the 5 minute rest after the transfer. They present us with the form we filled out when we arrived - listing the number of embryos being transferred, how many we have left in cryopreservation, etc. Then, of course, they hand us this image of the ones they transferred.

They said they both look great - as if they'd never been frozen - but I can't help but notice a remarkable difference between the 2. I believe that "halo" around them is called the zona, but I'm not positive if that's true or if it has more of something to do with the fluid they are in. I can clearly see the mass in the embryo on the left - which will eventually (hopefully) form into a fetus - but can't see it in the one on the right. But hey - I trust those doctors. After all, they went to school for this stuff, while I depend on Google. :)

Show Time

We're awake, we're showered, and G is even in there shaving as I type. Today is the big day. The day we enter that room with the dimmed yellow lights, the lazy-boy-esque chair in Dr. version, and the lone chair for the Mr.'s of the world. The screen on the monitor is a snow-filled triangle, empty until they're ready.

I think the strangest part of the process is the dual door system. We enter and the Dr's enter from one door - the front door. The back door is passage for only one person - the embryologist. No one is allowed to go back there, and if the Dr. opens it, he/she is only allowed to open it a crack and yell a series of words - something sounding like a football play. Then, from deep within the music filled room (they play various types of music for all the embryos to enjoy) - we hear someone yell the same play back as a confirmation. Last time when we had a showroom of people, the intern opened the door more than a crack, started to step in - at which point both the ultrasound nurse and the Doctor began to panic and sputter out half-word commands to get her to come back inside.

Must. not. enter. Foot. Stay. No. Back. Yell.

I'm fighting the urge to wear sweatpants in public, as it's a chilly and rainy day out. I have them laid out for me when I get home. G and I will be back in no time to spend the rest of our day in bed watching movies. And, of course, me blogging some ridiculous thing that happened - most likely while they were in the middle of the work "down there."

It's like first scene of Act I. The Beginning. (Again).

Let the Positive Thinking Begin

Injections, check.

Crazy hormones, check.

Crying at lame TV shows, check.

And finally we are arriving at the big day. I had my pre-transfer (mid-injection schedule) lining and E2 check on Friday. Everything is looking good - which means that I'm getting all stocked up on lining to hopefully hang on to those 2 embryos. Those LAST 2 embryos that we have cryopreserved. We have decided to go ahead and put them both back again. We're hoping that at least one of them hangs on in there. I'm not even going to think about repeating the IVF egg retrieval process. Not yet.

Our scheduled transfer will be on Wednesday. Due to our last experience during the transfer, I will sip my water only right before the transfer - instead of drinking the entire way up to the center. No need to put myself through that debacle again.

We are excited. And nervous. I keep playing the last transfer through my head, and the day it ended. The signs. What I ate. How I felt. Where I was. I am not going to let it control me, but I do want to continue to be aware to what my body is telling me. And take it a little easy for a bit.

So, keep your fingers crossed. We'll post after the transfer (just in case there's a story there somewhere!) ha!

On My Own

I stuck myself. Without tears. Without hesitating. I just loaded up and jabbed it in.

Phew.

The stress and procrastinating about this hurdle has haunted me all day. Well, really since I found out that G would be out of town for the start of the meds. But mostly all day. :)

I figure I will start worrying about the next solo-shot in 2 days. (Shot is in 3).

At the Starting Line

Down in ready position,

holding

holding

It's hard holding position while waiting for the start. But alas, we have held, and we have waited, and it is now time to begin. I went again this morning for a lining check, and finally, a week late, I have been given the "Looks good." That translates into being able to start the injections again today.

Since the last cycle ended in a pregnancy (technically), then they are sticking to the same dosage and the same schedule of meds - which is pretty standard. I will be taking Del Estrogen every 3 days, and returning for another lining check on the 16th. This time we're looking for thickening of the lining at that date. If it looks good, then I will add the Progesterone in Oil injections on a daily basis.

And transfer has been rescheduled - we are now looking at April 21st. So, until then, I will be taking my baby aspirin, prenatal vitamins, and the shots...

I am excited for the new cycle to finally start - but a little anxious because I will have to give myself the intramuscular (read: HUGE NEEDLE) injections the first few times. Greg's out of town, so he's off the hook - at least for this week!