Item – Next step in the ‘head down, keep going’ IVF plan: book an appointment with the Riverside embryologists. Embryologists? I hear you murmur, giving me a quizzical glance. Why, yes, embryologists! The plan is, get some embryos, as you do, and then, when said embryos are three days old and have enough cells not to miss one, but haven’t decided what to use them for, nick a cell and Examine It With Care Also Science (CGH). By day 5, they should have results, and so we will be doing a day 5 transfer of any blastocyst which has cleverly arranged not to have life-embuggering mutations. Because, nine very very very early miscarriages? It could have been life-embuggering mutations all along! Science! Crushing your dreams for your own good! So, on Thursday, we speak to embryologists.
Item – The timing of the CGH-testing is a little tricksy, as the lab can only do CGH on certain days of the week, and if egg-retrieval is on the wrong day, we’ll just have to stick the prettiest one back in and hope like hell. Well, we’d be hoping like hell anyway. But, yeah. It’s a bit of a thing, this. What if there was never ever any chance? What if all our embryos are (and by implication always have been) poor little three-legged mutants?
Item – ANYWAY! GLOOM IS DESCENDING! BAT IT AWAY WITH ORNAMENTAL FANS!
Item – Next thing to tick off on list of things that oxen do: I spoke to my boss about our exciting plans for next month, and she was wonderfully supportive and cool about it, bless her immensely with showers of rose petals. I have to brace myself and ask HR about sick leave and flexitime policies now. Which I do not want to do at all. But better have it worked out than be slapped with another set of ‘Why you no here durr hurrr?‘ tiresomeness (remember the faffle over the occupational health assessment because I was missing work every month when Cute Ute the Despoiler bursts out in tight purple trousers?). I have saved up most of my leave this year for this, you know. And work does offer a limited sort of flextime. It should be doable without pinging any of HR’s buttons at all, but hey, people are weird about IVF and I like my arse covered.
Item – H went to an ENT consultant (an NHS one) today, because, dear people, loveable and charming as the man is, he *whisper it* snores. And we are both very sick of him either sleeping in the spare room or being beaten awake every twenty minutes by a wild-eyed and increasingly psychotic insomniac wife. And the ENT specialist painfully and slowly crammed a camera up his nose and even more painfully ripped it out again, to H’s dismay, and pronounced his passages free of polyps, deviated septums, or lego, which, huh, good I suppose, but we wanted a simple straightforward easy fix. Just at the moment H is painfully sneezy and full of snot (is this an allergy? Is it a head cold? Is the universe just cheerfully fucking with him?), so in case it is allergies, H now has steroids to spray up his nose. To match my buserelin! His and hers frantic tandem sniffing and groaning! Neato! And he has been told to use a Mandibular Advancement Device, which sounds… deviant… So we shall see. Cross your fingers for H. If the snoring thing does not stop, I may accidentally hospitalize him in a fit of fertility-drug induced RAGE.
Item – Amazing break-out behaviour from Satsuma, who may have chosen this fraught time to ovulate on day 16. Even she is screaming LET’S GET THIS SHOW ON THE ROAD ALREADY OH MY GOD. So, if she has (and isn’t just fucking with me, because she used to fuck with me all the time, bless her, and I have trust issues, the Great IVF Cycle Endeavour will be coming to a blog near you on or about the 23 of June.
Item – WHAT ARE WE DOING? AAIEEEEE!