Lucky and Still Worried

I woke up from anesthesia that wasn't anesthesia with a crescent shaped gouge in my wrist. Pretty sure I got myself while under. Before giving in though, I made the cranky nurse chuckle, Dr. G chuckle, and both the anesthesiologist and the embryologist laugh out loud. They had these looks on their faces like they shouldn't be laughing at what the sad infertile girl was saying, but funny is funny.

Shots are over, but we've moved on to thrice daily vaginal suppositories. Yummy. Rumor is that they're about $14/day, which doesn't seem bad until you calculate that I'm using them for two weeks if there is a negative pregnancy test and 8-10 weeks if it's positive. My stomach is still a battlefield. See?




The most unflattering picture ever. I'll claim that the belly button, the piercing scar and the freckle were there before, but the bruises and stab marks are courtesy of IVF. The barely-there scar in the bottom of my belly button is from the laparoscopic surgery as a result of IF. Love is a battlefield, no joke.

We're incredibly lucky in that we have more embryos (right now - this can all change overnight) than some women even have eggs retrieved. So very lucky.

Which makes me wonder if my uterus is just going to kill the beauties we put back in a few days. I know, one day at a time and be grateful for what you have, but there is a problem and if it's not with my eggs, his sperm or the joining of the two (which is kind of exciting in a hey-baby, wanna-try-out-my-backseat sort of way), then I may just posses a killer uterus. It's possible. We'll find out.

*Thanks for the Gatorade tips - you, of course, are correct and now I'm not sure where I came by the other advice. Trying to drink the quart of recommended fluids from here on out.

- Posted from my mobile phone