So remember that whiny girl who was complaining on Saturday about how she only retrieved 21 eggs? Because, hey! 21 is way less than 36. Even though those 36 got her diddly squat? Yeah, her.
She's eating a healthy serving of crow right now.
We found out that out of those 21 egg-tastic ovum, 18 were mature.
Of the 18 mature, 17 fertilized.
Yeah, baby :)
Last time, of the 36 retrieved, 22 were mature, and 18 fertilized. So we're pretty much on the same damn track. Just with better bang for our buck.
I knew my whining was premature, but I just couldn't help it. I'll blame it on the hormones and anesthesia haze.
I'm recovering quite well, I must say. I am much more mobile than last time, and don't feel the need to physically hold my stomach to my body hunched over every time I get up. I was even (barely) able to sleep on my stomach the night of retrieval... not bad! I am, however, bleeding still, though I guess that's to be expected when they have to poke your lady bits FOUR TIMES to get to one ornery ovary. Not so much blood that I *need* to wear a liner, but enough that I know it's still fresh. And pink/red. (thank you baby aspirin)
The only annoying part is that it took nearly 48-hours and four colace pills for my post-op-poop. Which was frickin' glorious, I tell you. I'm down 1.5 pounds from transfer morning, which is a great sign too- fingers crossed that I escaped the dreaded OHSS!
Our check with the clinic today revealed that all 17 are still cleaving, though I don't have details on how many cells everyone has (which drives me bonkers). We'll get another report tomorrow. It's almost certainly going to be a day 5 transfer on Thursday.
Hope. I just... might... have it...