Third ultrasound was uneventful.  I still have about 8 follies on each side.  My husband (who goes with me to every appointment, bless his heart) says they look “bigger than last time.”  No music at all today from the nurses, which was kind of a let down.

I haven’t asked for my estrogen numbers, nor for the size of my follies.   And my clinic is a “don’t ask don’t tell” kind of operation.  They just call and give me my instructions, in a Mission Impossible, short and to the point kind of way.   “Your mission is: Decrease follistim by 50 units, continue lupron and repronex in the same quantities. Report at 0700 hours tomorrow morning.  That is all.”  But, if I ask them, I know they will not hesitate to tell me that my estrogen is at 20 billion parts per blood droplet, and then I will start obsessing about OHSS.  And if I’m getting OHSS there’s no stopping it, and obsessing won’t change anything.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned through this whole IF process, its that I can’t control anything when it comes to my reproductive heritage, and when I made the IVF decision, I handed the whole big mess over to the docs.  And I have no other choice but to trust them.  And I sort of do.  I know that they are closely monitoring me and adjusting meds as necessary.  I know that they will trigger me at the correct time….and that if my follies start going haywire, they will tell me that and maybe we won’t trigger.  Either way, not a damn thing I can do about it, so why bother  obsessing over what’s to come?  In this situation, for me, ignorance is truly bliss.   I’m just along for the ride.

I started feeling fat today….my lower tummy feels bigger and I am in the first stages of what I know will become a waddle walk.  Luckily, I only have one more day of work left before 2 weeks off.  And I have been wearing my “work mumus” in to the office, so I don’t have to snap or zip anything over my beat up stomach.  Plus I don’t have to get depressed about how my pants are too tight, so it’s win-win.

Work mumus by the way, are just dresses without restrictive waistbands.   So I can feel pretty and feminine and not worry that my tummy looks like a sausage roll.  I probably would have been best born into another culture, where the caftan –

Slimming Stripes!

Slimming stripes!

sarong –

No "muffin top" problems here!

No "muffin top" problems here!

sari –

No IVF injection site irritation!

No IVF injection site irritation!

and mumu –

Mumus - the ultimate freedon

Mumus - the ultimate freedon

are the way it’s done.  These cultures understand a woman’s body….. and then cover it all up.  I wonder how they would react if I showed up for work in a sari…..probably an experiment that is worth doing.

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