Saturday, 1-9-10 (Day 11)
Dexamethasone (.75mg, oral pill): No walking, no yoga. But I did clean the house like a mad woman, so I still got my groove on.
Lupron (5units, subQ injection): Since lowering my dose last week I haven't had any more sleeping troubles, so Lupron and I are good.
My dramatic E2 blood draw bruise was spotted today, and I was left ungracefully flailing and stuttering as I tried to answer my grandmas question about the colorful bruise nestled in the crook of my left arm.
I couldn't come up with anything creative or quick witted, so I just resorted to the truth and awkwardly explained that I'd had some blood work done. She seemed satisfied with that answer and left it at that, but I was pretty disappointed at how quickly I was caught off guard.
I could have said that I donated blood; it would have made sense, it would have sort of been true, and it wouldn't have been awkward.
If I'm going to survive this dramatic secret cycle, I'll have to be quicker next time.
Sunday, 1-10-10 (Day 12)
Dexamethasone (.75mg, oral pill): :::sigh:::
I just love to eat.
Lupron (5units, subQ injection): My needle must have been dull today, because I stabbed myself but was unable to actually puncture the skin past the first layer of flesh. After a few grunts and pushes, I had to withdraw and resort to another location, leaving some blood and a freshly developed bruise behind.
You'd think I'd have this down by now, but no.
Monday, 1-11-10 (Day 13)
Dexamethasone (.75mg, oral pill): After dogging a very close encounter with a craving for a frappachino, I resumed my twenty minutes of brisk walking today, even though it was horribly overcast and freezing cold outside. I was the only one present on a usually busy trail, but it was still nice to get out and be active.
Lupron (5units, subQ injection): This morning, I enjoyed my last one-shot-a-day routine; because starting tomorrow, we're doubling up and adding in a new, personalized stimming routine.
Given my perfect blood work, flawless test results, and outstanding health, the results we've been getting from the eggs grown in my rockstar ovaries these past two cycles just aren't good enough, darn it. I should easily be obtaining a large amount of eggs with the majority of them being mature, and they should fertilize and divide like crazy. Instead, we're retrieving a decent amount of eggs with only a minority of them being mature.
Which is precisely why-starting tomorrow-Doctor Greene's new protocol is attempting to turn my insides into a crock pot, slow cooking our eggs by using an even lower dose of stims for a longer period of time, with intended results somewhere along the lines of producing a much larger amount of more mature eggs.
I'm really hoping this is our solution, because Lord knows I haven't been doing what I should to increase our odds on my end. Sure, I've stayed away from nail polish and continued to use my own organic cleaning products. But I've also highlighted my crown, used in-organic shampoo for a week, and even consumed a few frappachinos along the way.
The crazy-compulsive, organic-obsessed, scale stepping IVF-psyco that I was a few months ago slightly deteriorated when I realized I wasn't pregnant. I guess I figured that a few drops of caffeine aren't going to completely dissolve my eggs, and the evil paraben chemical that exists in just about every body product available won't destroy my uterus forever as long as it's used in moderation.
Yet I still panicked when I ran out of organic hand soap and had to use Dial.
I've tried telling myself that I just put on the team green front to grow me some fabulous eggs, but the truth is that I really do love organic products, and I want to continue to be a green freak, IVF or not. And with master discount stores like Ross and T.J.Maxx offering up crazy deals on organic cleaning and body products these days, why not?
So there you have it; my pre-stimulation confessions. I haven't been doing all I could have or should have for this cycle to end up as perfectly as it may have in my more organic, more neurotic past, but I think God can still make this work, because I'm counting on the fact that my own interpretation of perfection is perhaps overrated.
Maybe my new idea of perfection should just include crock pot ovaries, brisk walks and frappachinos.
That sounds perfect to me.
I do the very best I know how - the very best I can; and I mean to keep on doing so until the end.