bastard bastard bastard

I’ve not quite kept up the detailed and informative chronicle I planned of this year’s IVF fandango, so here’s a snapshot of the last 3-4 weeks in an attractive summary format:

No. of buserelin induced tantrums (“BITs”)


Common triggers of BITs

H breathing, H speaking, H doing nothing, H doing anything, H failing to wipe down Nipper’s bib, H looking at me, H not looking at me, H doing things to help, H not doing things to help, H going to sleep, H not going to sleep, any event or circumstance after 9.30pm.

Items thrown, hit or broken during BITs

Mug, tray, dishcloth, scrubbing brush, washing up bowl, bin, bucket, broom, hoover, dog bowl, hairbrush, hair straighteners, clothes, mattress, pillows, phone, glasses, chair, tube of toothpaste (beaten violently against sink for its crimes)

Injuries and damage sustained during BITs

Cut hand (on broken chair), burnt hand (hair straighteners), poss. broken finger (beating toothpaste against sink), large quantities of toothpaste on clothes and bathroom walls (ibid.)

Positive thoughts about buserelin generally


No. of days completed of health eating and exercise


Slices of toast consumed to date during treatment


Anxiety levels about a) failure of frosties to thaw b) failure of frosties to implant c) general level of insanity surrounding what is almost certainly our last IVF attempt whilst simultaneously dealing with sea of shit at work, general career crisis, and caring for deranged (but perfect) Nipper


I can’t say I’m having a lot of fun this time round. Mind you, I can’t say last time was a lot of fun either, but the side effects seem a lot worse this time and positivity levels feel very low.

Down-reg scan was fine though, and v. sensible nurse has persuaded us that we would be insane and irresponsible to put back both blastocysts. I know she’s right, and I’m certain that we will only go with one, but it is much harder this time to think of the other all alone in the freezer, lost and lonely amongst the peas and fish fingers.

Also, quite anxious about some of the nebulous hypotheses that have been floated as to what we do if the first frostie defrosted suffers cell loss, i.e. do we defrost the second, pick the best, and toss the other? I am forever indebted to the scientific advances that gave us our little Nipper, but I have mixed feelings to say the least about having to make this kind of decision. I really hope we don’t have to.

and off we go

After a week or two of dithering (job applications in the pipeline, big client meeting, procrastination procrastination procrastination) I finally got my arse in gear and started last Wednesday (15 Oct).

Round one was a 5 day course of Provera (progesterone) to trigger a cycle. I had no qualms about this as I have taken this several times over the years in one form or another. This complacency was misplaced, as on Friday I had a filthy migraine with loss of vision in both my eyes. To be honest it was pretty scary as I was home alone with the Nipper. With immense calmness and fortitude, I immediately concluded I was having a stroke or DVT or some other thrombotic event and called the clinic in a major panic. They were good and, mainly, very reassuring (apart from the voicemail left later on saying “Oh, by the way, if you do have any symptoms of DVT or PE, do let us know”… ).

The long and short of it was: stop the Provera and come in for a scan and to discuss options. This was fairly disheartening. I know from last time that any IVF cycle is a rollercoaster, and never quite goes to plan, but it was upsetting to hit problems within just a few days of starting.

Anyway, a week on and we’re back on track, or at least a track, if not the same track. It seemed that the 3 days of Provera did the trick, and the clinic have now altered my protocol to enable me to start taking Buserelin now rather than in 3 weeks time.

I couldn’t get in for an injection teach, but it all came screaming back to me as I sat at my desk at the crack of dawn yesterday, flicking bubbles out of an insulin syringe and voluntarily injecting myself with the demon fluid. I already feel pretty bleak and angry, as I did last time, but whether that’s an early reaction to the buserelin, or a hangover from the Provera, or simply the natural state of my personality, I don’t care to evaluate.

So, it’s 3 weeks now of hormonal fun and games until the down reg scan on 14 November. I’ll keep you posted as to which household appliances I break this year.