Hello, and welcome to IVF round 3. You can read about round 1 here, which resulted in 1 x Nipper (age: 2; height: too quick to measure; favourite word: NO; least favourite word: bed); and round 2 here, which resulted in a brief temporary surge in profits for the HPT market, and then a corresponding rise in sales of gin.
This shall be the fascinating, detailed, well-maintained journal of round 3, a frozen cycle with our last embryo, which I believe shall be our last foray into the world of assisted reproduction, whatever the outcome. In contrast to the exquisitely crafted, self-absorbed navel-gazing tenor of the previous logs, this will just be self-absorbed navel-gazing, as quite frankly I’m too busy and/or tired and/or grumpy to try and be meaningful or amusing.
Yesterday I spent approximately 2.6 hours planning an intensive regime of organic produce, visualisation, mediation, fertility yoga etc to commence at dawn each day of this final cycle to maximise success, starting today.
Today I got up at six after a shite night’s sleep (SODDING cat), did my buserelin injection, went back to bed for precisely 3 minutes, was woken up by being punched in face by the Nipper, sat in the bathroom fantasising as to how I might hand in notice at work whilst H checked lottery ticket, got dressed when (but only when) H confirmed no win and I therefore had to go into work, arrived at work thirty minutes late, starting writing week plan, picked up urgent client call spent all morning dealing with said call, went out for lunch with said client, ate salad, ate cake (to counteract salad), spent afternoon scrolling through overflowing inbox, came home, spent four hours trying to get the Nipper to go to sleep, had pointless conversation with parents, and now this. To sum up:
- Organic produce eaten: zero
- Visualisations/mediations performed: zero.
- Minutes spent doing fertility yoga: zero.
Down reg scan on 21 Aug. One day after my birthday, fact fans.