I am a big fan of the hippopotamus. I like the water and I like horses which is what the name hippopotamus translates to be in Greek – water horse. I also like that they have really big mouths and scary looking teeth. Plus, I took a really great photo at the zoo when I was in high school of a hippopotamus under water (through glass) and the photo makes the hippo really just looks like a giant turd swimming in a pool. That is some serious camouflage. I kind of hope technological advances have not since changed this photographic phenomenon because others should get to experience the same joy as me when they flick through old photo albums and see multiple images of a giant turd in a pool (or a hippopotamus, depending on how optimistic you’re feeling).
Anyway, I’m feeling like a hippopotamus today – the animal. I’m not feeling especially like a turd in a pool so that’s something positive at least. I took a photo of my belly in knickers and a tank top for my best friend and sent it to her with the caveat that she should delete it after viewing. She kindly responded by saying my belly looks normal to everyone else and it only looks huge to me, which was a) kind and b) not true.
So I reckon something is going on in ovaries land.
The reason I don’t know precisely what’s going on in ovaries land is because my doctor is crap (maybe he’s the turd in the pool?!). He’s currently on holiday and due back on Monday, which is when my appointment is. Given that my egg collection is preliminarily scheduled for Wednesday this means that I’ve not been supervised at all throughout the stims process. I read other people’s blogs and how they have to go to their doctor/clinic every 2-3 days and then I wonder why my doctor does not observe me at all? He doesn’t do tests. I am none the wiser as to how many follicles are potentially growing. It’s all a big mystery-surprise.
If I had not done this whole shebang a year ago and experienced the hippopotamus side effects I would be properly freaking out right now. I am pretty confident that my giant belly is about the same size at the same time as last year and I got 18 eggs, nine of which fertilised and four of which made it to five days blastocyst stage. I’m not so focused this year on the overall egg count, but am keen to get my embryo count up a bit this time. Hubby better bring his A-game swimmers!
I had my appointment with the endocrinologist on Friday and that was pretty good, as far as these things go. It was a lady doctor (yay, feminism!) and she did an ultrasound on my neck (got to leave my clothes on for once which was a nice change) confirming that my thyroid is smaller in size than normal, but also confirming no other nasties like inflammation and nodules and whatever else hell thing can exist. This means that my thyroid issue is probably pretty new. I asked how I came to suddenly have a thyroid issue and she explained that one of the most likely causes was the large spikes and drops in my hormones caused by two pregnancies and two miscarriages in the space of five months.
Any normal person would have been very sad about this news, and lets face it a thyroid problem is not exactly ideal, but I actually felt a bit relieved about the diagnosis. I have been feeling entirely devoid of energy for MONTHS now and perhaps this at least partially explains it. My lady doctor was entirely confident she could get my thyroid reading under 2.0 before November, the likely month of my first transfer all things going to plan, and so on to more meds I go! For those who love this stuff, I’ve been prescribed Euthryrox 50 mg, which has the active ingredient of Levothyroxine sodium. Fun times! I get to take one a day, six days a week (Sunday is my rest day).
I also had my first session with a life coach / counsellor who I recruited in one of my dark days earlier in August. By the time the appointment came around I almost cancelled it, but hubby insisted. Anyway, it was good actually. She came to my house, played with my baby kitty, listened to me pour my heart out (it was sooooo good to say some of the stuff I did), and then told me which things I was being overly harsh about and validated some other stuff. It was actually all very healthy and I liked her a lot which might have been helped by her telling me she thought I was highly intelligent and a high achiever (flattery!)…. although 100 EUR is a lot to pay for what I would probably have gotten from my best friend if she was just down the street rather than on the other side of the world.
She gave me some homework, one of which is that I – literally – have to count my blessings (one of them that I volunteered was my long legs, because I have a really short sister and I genuinely know how difficult she finds some stuff, but the counsellor lady did think that was a pretty unusual blessing to count). She also gave me some notes to read through to remind myself of some important stuff. Here is one of them which I think might have some relevance to some of my blog friends who I regularly correspond with:
I accept that not everyone is the same, not everyone is able to show empathy in the same way, nor to be supportive in the same way. Some people are limited in this respect. This has nothing to do with me. Other people’s incompetence in being highly sensitive or empathetic has nothing to do with me. I accept their limitations along with their good intentions. I acknowledge the their “offensive intrusiveness” is something that I dot have to take personally. I choose not to take other people’s limitations personally. I am not responsible for them; I am responsible only for myself.
That last part is really good. I choose not to take other people’s limitations personally. I am not responsible for them; I am responsible only for myself.
Yes. I am only responsible for myself.
Only. For. Myself.
Love, the Hippopotamus.