Where I am: CD10!
Medications: Ovidrel trigger, injected at 10pm!
Symptoms: dudes, my ovaries are achy as hell…
Oh my God, what a day.
Honestly, guys, I have this huge final project hanging over my head due next Wednesday and all I could think about on the train ride home from class was how bad I wanted to type this post.
As you know, I was CD10 today. Showed up at 8:15AM for my ultrasound, and after much poking around (oh my goodness, “stimulated” ovaries are very tender to the touch—owww) the ultrasound tech told me I had a 10mm, 11mm, and 12mm on the left and an 11mm and a—wait for it—30mm on the right!
No. That’s not a typo. Your surprise was my surprise. And the tech’s surprise.
So of course she says she can’t believe it’s so big so early, and sends me on my way with promises of a phone call later that morning or early afternoon. As my husband is driving me back home to drop me off at my car so I can race to work, I’m Googling the shit out of “30mm follicle Clomid too big?” and other searches and finding mixed signals. Enter the face of defeat. Of frustration. Of sadness.
Got to work, told my mom the bad news, she told me to stop with the damn Googling (but ladies, come on, we IF-ers are the queens of Google are we not? she just can’t understand), and to go about my day. So I did (with some more Googling and posting on Twitter—follow me @dreams_rainbows if you aren’t already—and on my BabyBump app). And 4:00PM starting drawing near, and I started to get nervous, because I needed to know if I had to fly home and grab the Ovidrel out of the fridge and bring it with me to class.
The second I tweet about it, the office calls. I flee my cubicle and find a spot in the hallway to talk. As she’s speaking, three people walk down the hall talking loudly, so I rush into a side hall. They follow. I rush past them to the stairwell and apologize to the lady that I couldn’t hear her and she starts all over again. Explains I’m good to go! I ask about the 30mm, she says my RE looked it over and the baseline and said it must be a follicle!
*takes deep breath*
So I go home, grab Ovidrel box, take train into Boston, go to class. Fast forward ahead four hours.
It’s 9:55PM. I’m alone in the bathroom, in a stall. My pants rolled down, my shirt rolled up. My iPad balancing on the female product disposal bin, my headphones plugged into the jack and buds in my ears. Watching a YouTube video of how to do this shit. Hands shaking. Arms shaking. Whole body shaking, down to my knees! Teeth and all! Five minutes pass, 10:00PM is here…no more delaying the inevitable…
…and I did it.
By golly, I fucking did it. (Excuse my French.)
Okay, so…quick disclaimer. I totally thought there was an alcohol swab in the friggin’ box. There wasn’t. So I did it without. And swabbed when I got home. Hopefully my tummy is clean. I’m such an idiot. I know for next time! Jeez. All the shame, lay it on me, all the shame…
Okay done with the shaming. So I did it! And one of THE BEST parts was I literally had my phone (balancing on the toilet paper roll holder) buzzing with encouragement as fellow IF friends cheered me on via Twitter. It was amazing. Almost—read actually—brought tears to my eyes. I had so hoped I would have my husband or mother or best friend do it, but I had no choice. Husband works until midnight Sunday-Thursday…mom was nowhere near Boston, neither was best friend. It was all me, alone.
Only I wasn’t alone. Not really.
Oh gosh. Tearing up again. Damn Clomid, I tell you.
Okay seriously I feel out of breath from typing this! I wanted to get it all out so badly! This is it! We baby dance tonight, Thursday night, and Friday night. And the 2ww begins! I am probably going to test the trigger because I want to make sure I did it right…and then I’ll probably test every other day just to satisfy my neurosis. (I’m psychotic. A little.)
Closing thoughts: it’s been an hour and a half and I am already bruising (I’m an easy bruiser though, blood draws make me look like a drug addict…) and it is sore. Is this normal? Please appease my rampant mind.
Also: send all your baby dust and well wishes and any good juju you have my way! Good thoughts! I am not the praying type, but that doesn’t mean I would turn them away if you are.
And finally: I’ll be writing another blog post about this in depth later this week, but thank you to all of you ladies. For everything. For being here for me. We all need each other. As I said on Twitter, I may be 1 in 8, but it certainly doesn’t feel like it when I have ladies like you to lean on and talk with and listen to. You make me strong. Thank you.
Oh gosh, the emotions. I need to go…do something else.