M.I.A.

Yes, I’m alive.

I’m also lazy. And super hormonal. But if we’re being honest, really I’m just lazy.

In my defense, I’ve had a busy two weeks.

Last week we (and by we, I mean me) had our second egg retrieval. They got 33 eggs. THIRTY-THREE!

Just to put that in perspective for you, that’s almost three years worth of eggs, that I made in a 12-day period.

So go ahead and imagine THREE YEARS worth of PMS, and squeeze it all into a week and a half, and then congratulate me on all my efforts, and take Mike out for a drink or ten.

I married a saint.

So, I spent a few days recovering from surgery, with my BFFs Utz, Gatorade (because water is off limits), Netflix and Vicodin.

Fun side-effects of collecting 33 eggs? I’m at a higher risk for OHSS, so some of my meds were changed from pills to shots.

Fine, no big deal. I’m good at shots now.

Oh, they’re huge, and have to be in my ass, you say??! And Mike has to give them to me?! FOR WEEKS?!! Fun.

My elevated hormone levels have resulted in some sort of hyper-smelling ability, so I can smell everything. That’s great, if say, someone is cooking something delicious. But so far it’s been my experience that everything smells like actual shit.

I drop everything I touch. I cry, and then laugh, and then maybe cry again at the drop of a hat. I wake up every night at 4 a.m. naked and soaked in sweat. The dreams I’m having are more complicated than The Matrix Revolutions.

A few days later, we had our embryo transfer. Before the procedure, they show you your wee little blastocyst on a monitor, and they caught ours mid-hatch. I knew there was hatching involved, but i didn’t expect to ever see it happen, so that was really fascinating.

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Crazy right?! Yay Science!!

Then I got to spend more time in bed, and then on the sofa, which was less fun without all the Vicodin.

Thankfully people who love us brought us food, which I am eating like it’s going out of style.

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