After three days on 300 units each of Follistim and Menopur, my ovaries are working. Overtime, as intended. As of this morning, lefty is harboring at least 5 follicles. I lost track of how many are hanging out with righty, but it was at least 3-4. All are measuring between 8 and 11 mm. (If Hubby had gone with me, he would have been able to tell you for sure, but he decided to stay home, and I won’t say anything else about that.)
For those of you keeping score, that’s much better than last time around, when righty was doing diddly squat at this point. Of course, I wasn’t on the massive doses of drugs I’m on now. Dr. C just peeked in for a minute (I was in and out in 10, and that includes a stop in the bathroom to empty my bladder and making my next appointment on the way out) and instructed me to start Ganirelix tomorrow night and “keep growing.”
My next appointment is Thursday, and the woman (nurse? PA? I still haven’t figured this one out) who did my ultrasound said, “Let’s hope you have some fireworks on the 4th.” Or something cheesy like that.
Overall, it was a good appointment. Makes me not want to change my strategy of being ready, at any moment, for bad news. But I’m trying, really I am, to allow myself to be hopeful. I do want this to work. And I don’t even want to think about what will happen if it doesn’t. If we’re left with nothing and (really, truly, I mean it this time) no way to start again.
So I appreciate all the optimistic, hopeful, happy vibes you all have been sending my way. And I’m doing my best to breathe through the process because I know, other than shooting myself up a couple of times a day, there’s nothing else I can do.
Speaking of which, it’s about that time.