Stim Day Twelve.

At 8:30 this evening, Scott gave me the trigger shot. There was a brief panic when we realized we weren’t exactly sure where the shot was supposed to go. “Upper outer quadrant” seems suddenly vague when you are about to plunge an inch and a half long needle into it.
And then I couldn’t draw all the medication out of the vial without sucking in air. And then when I tried to remove that air I shot a bit of trigger out of the needle, wondering fleetingly whether it was enough to affect the potency.
And then I shrugged my shoulders, pulled down my pants, and handed Scott the syringe.
Tomorrow, for one glorious day, I have no shots at all. I normally give my morning shots at 6:30; it has been weeks since I’ve slept past six. Tomorrow I will stay home from work, sleep in, and start gathering things for post-retrieval: movies, sweatpants, books, and malleable cheeses. My brother is hosting a Stinky Cheese Party on Saturday that I will be missing, and so I may have my own little soiree with a nice Tallegio and some old William Powell and Myrna Loy movies.

The final numbers:

Right Ovary:
20, 19.5, 19, 17.5, 16, 15, 14.5, 14.5, 13, 12, 9

Left Ovary:
21, 19, 17, 16.5, 16, 16, 15.5, 15.5, 15, 12.5, 12.5, 12, 11, 11, 11

Lining:
9.5C (No idea what the “C” means—”satisfaCtory?” “Capable of sustaining life?” “Cruelly inhospitable?”)

E2:
3121

I am shocked to have gotten this far, grateful for my good fortune, and oddly proud of myself. They are expecting to get about 15 eggs, and retrieval is 8:30 Saturday morning. Stay tuned for part three of the IVF Primer, to be titled Egg Retrieval: or, “They Put The Needle WHERE?”