Monitoring Progress

Today I moved from focusing on the details of the process (sleepiness, shots, clothes) to the Big Fear out there: that it won't work.  I went for my monitoring appointment and whereas on Saturday they had found seventeen little follicles, today there were only six that had grown to an appropriate size.  The doctor said a few more might come up in the next day or so.  But I'd had fantasies about having seventeen eggs, and seventeen embryos.  And hell, why not?: seventeen babies. They're anticipating that I'll do my retrieval on Sunday.  So let's see... that means the trigger shot would be Friday night?  That's two more monitoring sessions.  Two more blood draws from now, two more invasions by the wand, two more trips to the BIOHAZARD TAMPON DISPOSAL bathroom, four more encounters with the slowest "Valet Parking" I could ever imagine. Except for this week, when life has started moving through molasses, this has been an easy cycle.  We've made less of a big deal about our shots; it's no longer a family event every night.  It's just something to do in the dining room when I'm walking from the kitchen to the living room.  Just stop by and get the needles ready, jab myself with the Follistim pen, put it back in the fridge, and bring James the Menopur needle to jab me while I look away.  My Lupron I take myself in the morning between pouring my cereal and eating it. So to have gotten to close to trigger day without really paying much attention, well, that has helped the emotional part of this go faster.   But six follicles?  I wish he hadn't told me.  I don't want to start worrying about whether this is all in vain.  I just want to bitch about my waistband.