In my last two posts, I talked about the egg collection and what they actually do. What I didn’t talk about was how many eggs they got. Before you go into the procedure, they have a pretty good idea of how many follicles are going to be big enough to drain the fluid from. And the expectation is that in that fluid is going to be an egg. But, of course, there’s no guarantee that every follicle will contain an egg, or that every egg will be of good enough quality to freeze.
I know that my clinic focuses on minimal stimulation – they say it’s safer for the patient, and cheaper as you use fewer drugs, and that the end result is Continue reading
On my twitter feed today – I’m there as @EggedOnBlog, so do come and say hello – I saw a post from @RedMagDaily flagging an interview with author Samantha Shannon that said ‘Write the story you want to write.’ Me being me, I read it too quickly and thought it said ‘Write the story you want to read’ which I thought sounded like a good maxim (and, actually is possibly the same as writing the story you want to write.)
Because that’s what this blog was meant to be about. I wanted to write the story that I wish had been out there when I was thinking about freezing my eggs. And I’m not always sure I’ve done that terribly well. Continue reading
Today was the day that I had my eggs collected – or harvested – I feel slightly like a battery chicken – although I didn’t have to lay them, that would have been weird(er). Because this was my second time around, I knew what to expect – no food – just water – for six hours before sedation and then nothing at all for two hours before. I was booked in for 9.30am and so woke up at about 7am to guzzle a load of water because a nurse told me last time that you tend to recover better from the sedation if you’re well hydrated.
I blow dried my hair and put make-up on before I went – and I refused to dress in tracksuit bottoms, I wore my regular skinny jeans. I think it’s all Continue reading
Any normal person would probably acknowledge that going on dates when you’re a) not drinking, b) full of hormones that can heighten your emotions and c) embarking on a process that is quite emotionally exhausting, is A Bad Idea. Of course it is, it’s insanity. So I can’t really explain what on earth possessed me to go on four first dates in the week that I was doing my first ever egg freezing cycle. I can only assume that it was my subconscious telling me that if I didn’t want to have to go down the donor sperm route, I should get my sorry arse out there and find the father of my children.
It being January, it was quite easy to pretend Continue reading
Although M, who’s been through three cycles of egg freezing, had told me that none of her cycles were the same, in terms of the numbers of eggs and how she felt, I didn’t really believe her, but this time around, it’s distinctly different from the first time.
The biggest difference is that it’s day eight and I haven’t sat in my kitchen wailing uncontrollably – yet – I’m sure it’s only a matter of time. On my last cycle, by day six I felt like I was permanently Continue reading
So yeah, last time, I was off the booze for about a month. During that month I dated – of which more later – but incidentally, dating sober, should you be considering it is not to be advised. While, it wasn’t as horrific as I thought it was going to be, the soft-focusing effects of alcohol should not be underestimated.
I think of booze as a real-life Photoshop blur tool, gently fuzzing both my perception and that of others. Alcohol softens the more abrasive bits Continue reading
I’ll admit it, I like a drink. Not in the sort of way that means I should be heading to an AA meeting (although they do say denial is part of the problem) – it’s not like I start my mornings with a slug of vodka, or wake up with the shakes or anything. It’s just that – like most single people my age – my life revolves around social occasions that generally involve booze.
I meet dates for cocktails, or friends for dinners accompanied by a bottle of wine, I go to the pub after work with colleagues. I drink. And, when I’m having a tough time with something, whether it’s a bloke being a twat, work being stressful, Continue reading