I miss needles. I know that makes me sound like a raving psychopath but I really miss our daily ritual. I miss having something to do… although that’s not entirely true as I still do have something to do.
My rascally ovaries got themselves all flustered and overexcited during the FSH injections and this is not good. As I mentioned previously it can be quite dangerous and painful. Luckily for me, my case has erred to the side of just painful and not dangerous but it means that instead of getting a couple of progesterone injections after the transfer, I have to do take a more gentle dose of progesterone twice a day for a few weeks in a fashion that is probably best left undiscussed but involves paste, a squirter and my hoo hah. This daily ritual is most definitely a solo act and doesn’t come with cups of tea and sympathy from M who instead runs as far away as he can pulling ‘ick’ faces.
In more exciting news Dr. Sickboy called and tomorrow we transfer. One of the lucky embys will be moving out of the Petri dish and in to my womb with a view (well, it does reside on the harbour) and hopefully the rest will be big enough and tough enough to move into a big freezer.
At the moment this is what my embys look like.
I think they look exactly like little Perigord truffles which is wonderful because Perigord truffles arejust about my favourite things in the world and simply love hanging about in my belly.