I’m sitting here, the night before egg collection, full of hope.
I know I shouldn’t be. I have nine follicles, and last cycle – despite many more follicles – I still only got six eggs. And half of those were unusable.
But still, I can’t help myself. I feel excited.
Sure, the prospect of having a needle up my VJJ doesn’t fill me with glee, nor the discomfort afterwards.
But the possibility of maybe getting a couple of good eggs, and the potential that brings…
See, I’m no longer greedy. I’ll take six good eggs, two good quality blasts, this time round. That would be marvellous.
I’m just keeping everything crossed it’s not a terrible outcome, because I never want to repeat how I felt during the first cycle. Utter despair from egg collection, which lasted pretty much til day five – the most agonising wait of my life – then hope for two weeks, to rock bottom again when it failed.
It took a good month to ‘get over’ the whole thing, and a following three months of ups and downs from there – a proper emotional rollercoaster.
I know IVF is a process, and you have to look at it as a whole, but the prospect of having to pick myself up again after another failed cycle is awful.
I don’t want to keep putting my life on hold anymore, going through the motions. Because this year has been a sheer bloody slog.
Anyway, I have to remember what will be, will be.
There’s no alternative.
You just keep pushing through, don’t you? Praying for a bit of luck to go your way, and assume what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.