Collection day yesterday – and we were so happy! ELEVEN eggs and NO SCREAMING PAIN! Woo!
We had spag bog and watched Masterchef and I went to bed with a smile on my dial, thanking whoever there is to thank that the latest hurdle had been … hurdled.
Nurse Awesome called this morning and she had that gentle, sad tone in her voice that I know so well. This is the deal:
– 11 eggs, but only 5 mature (last time we had 8 eggs, all mature)
– 3 fertilised (last time 6 fertilised)
– we’re aiming for a transfer of one 3-day emby this Sat (last time, of the 6 fertilised, 3 made it to a 5-day blasto stage).
I’m gutted. I am so, so disappointed. Last time we started with 6 fertilised and got to 3 … with those odds we mightn’t get any to survive until Saturday? I was so fucking smug last night, picturing a freezer-ful of 5-day embies, for us to greedily dip into for the rest of the year, merrily watching the odds of a pregnancy increase.
But now I feel like I’m staring down the barrel of a possible cancelled cycle, or at best one with a much lower success rate with a 3-day emby. And, worst of all, the prospect of more and more stim cycles. I’ve taken TEN DAYS off work, and we’ve thrown some of the last of our savings at this. I guess (ridiculously) we just felt this was a last stim. Now it seems such a waste. I almost feel like I should go back to work and forget about it.
I also can’t help but wonder what I’ve done differently this time around to get fewer eggs at less quality. Last time Mr Bun and I were definitely more abstemious 3 months before egg collection. There was a month of sobriety, and herbs and supplements and potions. This time (or, three months ago) there was just normal living.
God – I know I sound like a melodramatic cow right now, and some women have to do a stim cycle every round. But – c’mon people. Give us a FUCKING BREAK.
(I am still in bed, in my pyjamas, btw).