Today is a not-so-good day.
I feel crazy I’m so tired.
I am nauseated and have a migraine on top of it.
This is the part of IVF that wears me down, right before the egg retrieval. All of a sudden I am juggling so much. It happens every time. I think I mentioned before that this process messes with my mind. Shots at night, shots in the morning, shots that keep me up all night staring at the ceiling until suddenly it’s time for an early morning poke in the arm to get some blood and a poke between the legs to evaluate some follicles. Sometimes I feel like they schedule these things morning and night, morning and night, to see if you got what it takes to be a parent. Anyone who played sports knows about those are-you-tough-enough-practices, like 6-AMs or 2-a-days. They just mess with ya and keep pushing you until you either make it or… join the choir.
Today the choir sounds pretty good.
This morning before my ultrasound, I gave those stirrups a stare-down. We all know a man designed those things. So hard. So grumpy looking. Can’t I get a little padding on there? Some color?
I just realized how hard and grumpy looking I am right now writing this blog.
The stirrups are fine. (I can hear my coach yelling “suck it up and lose the attitude”!)
Anyway, when the ultrasound tech does her thing, she does a transvaginal ultrasound using a long probe. This would probably be fine if she was just looking at my uterus but she’s trying to look at the ovaries. If you were late to biology class, those are on the sides of a woman’s body. So, she wrenches it left and then stops to count and measure every freaking follicle she finds which she has to do using her machine from Flight of the Navigator. (I am always so tempted to push all the buttons before they come into the room.) In order to measure each freaking follicle, she has to hold the probe with one hand and then, on the computer screen click the left, right, top, and bottom of the follicle. Mind you, I have a lot of follicles at this point. I’ve heard it said that it’s like having 2 small grapefruits filled will grapes. I know, I know, here come the pregnant ladies, ” just imagine a human stuffed in there!” It’s true. But so far I have had this done about 25 times and I get no baby at the end! (Waaah!)
Back to the ultrasound.
Left side. Click, click, click, click. Times 100. I count them all. Then, wrench to the right. Click, click, click, click. Times 200. Because that side always has more. At this point whoever the tech is, she usually says in a sing-song voice, “doin’ okaaaay?” It’s a question that sounds more like a statement, and I know she’s only saying it because she’s noticed I haven’t breathed since the first click. Still, it is ultra-annoying. I let out my breath and give her a grunt.
My fatigue does not help the cramping feeling of discomfort. I am like a child when I am tired. Although, I try to just picture myself throwing tantrums instead of having real ones. (I’m sure my husband would say something like: Are you sure you are just imaging them?)
My therapist says that we can’t handle stressors well when we are tired because one of our basic essential needs isn’t being met. Same thing happens with hunger. This isn’t some grand epiphany but what a grand reminder. After 30, I have finally come to terms with calling myself an adult only to find out I am still a child, only a giant one.
Another blood test and ultrasound tomorrow morning but I am hoping it will be my last before I get ready to go in for the egg retrieval. So far my egg follicles are developing a day slower than usual. This is actually a good thing because that means they are taking more time to become mature.
Hopefully, by the big day we will all be less tired and more mature.