slow and, err, steady? cycle 4, day 14

Don’t despair – my tireless rants about working mothers are behind us, and now we can return to all-pelvis-all-the-time programming. So. Where were we?

Well, I’ve finished with my incessant sobbing for now and moved on to every other day wandings and blood draws, because we all know how funny those are. Here’s where we’re at:

Thursday, Day 10: wanding by the tech who seems uncomfortably excited about my ovaries and tells me as much with a very thick Boston accent, while I’m restrained in stirrups and her arm is halfway inside me. Buh-yuuu-ti-fuhl ovuhrees! Goohr-jus! A few follicles on the right, one on the left, none big enough to trigger ovulation.

Saturday, Day 12: welcome to your weekend, please proceed to the far-away-weekend-clinic-location whose waiting room does have better magazines. And, apparently, Jack Hanna on TV, which was compelling enough that as we left, C informed me that he is going to become a doctor for turtles. NOTED.

Meanwhile, behind door number 2: follicles growing ever so slowly, largest at 15 mm, still not big enough to trigger. Which is sad because if there’s one truth in this world it is that I long for my monthly injection of Chinese hamster ovary. Return on Monday. Third time’s the charm?

Lentil gave you her face and here I am with nothing more than my right ovary.
But look - follicles! (is it just me or does this look like a poorly made tie-dye t-shirt?)

Monday, Day 14: wanding redux with the bonkers, ovary-happy tech. Yuh right side, yeah she loves that drug, yeah, she’s like a drug addict that right side of yours, yeah. She just made some buh-yuuu-ti-fuhl follicles! Yeah, right side, yeah. But apparently “she[1]” didn’t work hard enough. Just five minutes before 1pm – five minutes before I entered probably the most difficult trial of my novice little legal career, I took a call from the clinic nurse: the doctor wants you to come back tomorrow for another blood draw and scan. Your biggest follicle is 17 and we need it to be bigger. Well then. Please excuse me while I sob into this rough, court issue, paper towel put on seven witnesses and argue evidentiary objections. <Endures repeated hot flashes[2], sweating through a perfectly good suit.> Because being a lawyer is glamorous.

Tuesday, Day 15: stay tuned (you know, all 4 of you)!

If tomorrow goes according to plan – if it sounds like I’m beginning to worry, you’re right, I’m beginning to worry – then we’re on for IUI 36 hours after ovulation, by trigger shot or otherwise. I wonder if they’ll allow me to do a post-insemination headstand in the exam room? In the meantime, good people and robots of various forms living idly in the interwebs, please tell me: am I right to be worried? Am I ovulating too late? How does this affect my chances of having quadruplet unicorns by breech?[3]

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[1] How do I feel about the anthropomorphizing and feminizing of my ovaries? I feel unexpectedly uncomfortable, sort of like this.

[2] Seriously. This is a thing.

[3] Forgive me, I just finished a marathon trial; I’m too tired for endless Google searches full of forums of falling star dust and talk of baby dancing.