Yoga with a dog and toddler

So, day 3 of the oestrogen regime. Memory is a weird thing isn’t it? In my mind it’s always buserelin that has been the utter bastard, but actually last week wasn’t too awful in the end, despite my grumbling. Then I started on the progynova and, man alive, it’s shite. All I want to do is lie in bed and eat marmite toast, and the world won’t let me.

Anyway, to help build up my lining to optimum levels for transfer, and being unable to extract myself from either work or the Nipper for long enough to be acupunctured, I have been reading this book on yoga for fertility, which I was a little fearful of, but it’s very very good. There’s not too much theory or “beardie-weirdie” stuff as one of my friends calls it, just suggested programs for various times in one’s cycle and guidance on how to fit it in around ART. And loads of other stuff on diet, affirmations etc that I haven’t really touched on yet, but will probably get round to during the 2ww when it’s too late.  An experienced yogini I’m not, but I did find yoga very helpful during pregnancy and labour, and on the rare occasions in the last few weeks when I’ve organised and motivated myself sufficiently to spend half an hour or so doing the poses (which are all well explained and simple), I’ve felt a real benefit.

Exceptions to this are a) when the dog decides to join in b) when the Nipper decides to join in and c) when both decide to join in, as there is only so much labrador spit and being punched in the face by a plastic tractor  that you can take when trying to increase your prana levels (yeah?) until you decide it’s better to just get up and turn CBeebies back on and make another marmite sandwich.

So, one more full week at work and then 2 weeks or so of “holiday” (i.e. dealing with work from home) during which time hopefully I get the old size 8s into the stirrups again and display my nether regions to the kind embryologists for our final transfer. Obviously, I refuse to acknowledge the possibility of either a) the oestrogen not working or b) our final frostie not making it out of the freezer, as neither of those options is acceptable.

I should really listen to a Zita West cd and go to bed early, but you know and I know I’m going to look in the cupboard for a chocolate doughnut and then watch Streetdance.

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