Dr Shoes did her usual thoroughly good job and managed to find seven eggs from eight follicles, although two of them were from pretty small follicles so they are unlikely to fertilise. So we have the five decent looking ones we saw on Monday. Let's hope they all fertilise and give us something decent to transfer on Friday.
One signal that I'm not taking this as seriously, or that I'm more relaxed, or that I have less faith in it working, is that I asked Dr Candour to prescribe me the progesterone suppositories instead of IM progesterone this time. And yes, they are suppositories, and not pessaries. My clinic recommends using them in the 'back passage' not in the vagina, although they say you can do either. We've used IM progesterone on each cycle since my first one ended in lots of blood at 8dp3dt. And I've come to understand that the research, as well as my personal experience, says that both IM and internal progesterone help support a pregnancy, but the IM progesterone will keep away a period even if you aren't pregnant, while the internal progesterone won't. So it may be more depressing, but it isn't any less good in terms of pregnancy support.
So I've made an intelligent decision, informed by science, to do something which is much less painful and intrusive, and traumatic, and do the easy version instead. Some part of me feels that I'm wrong, that I should have stuck to the IM progesterone - after all, I was on that the time I did get pregnant from IVF. And part of me knows that's nonsense. Which wasn't helped necessarily that all the nurses today had me down as doing IM progesterone. Ironic, since every other time when I have been on IM progesterone, they've assumed I'm on the suppositories and have had to be persuaded of the converse. I felt I had to keep explaining my decision to revert to the easy version of progesterone support. Which is silly and I'm sure they didn't care, but you know what it's like on retrieval day when you're feeling fragile and hungry and everyone keeps asking you your name and date of birth, and you realise just how bloody old you are compared to all these teenage nurses, not to mention the couple in the next bed who looked about 15 and turned out to have had 8 miscarriages.
Umm. Run on sentence. Sorry. Off to catch up on the work I didn't get to do today. Onwards and upwards.