The More Things Change…

Since my first baseline ultrasound a couple of weeks ago, I’ve returned to the clinic three times.

The first baseline ultrasound showed a golf ball-sized cyst on my right ovary, so I was told to reschedule a new baseline appointment when I got my period (which was supposed to reboot my system). Aunt Flo showed a couple of days later, so I had two baseline ultrasounds in one working week—much to the NP’s surprise.

The second baseline showed that the cyst was already collapsing (hurrah!) but although the first follow-up ultrasound showed a nice triple line (lining was already 5-6 mm) there was no change in my estrogen levels (a steady 20).

Hmmm.

Is the delay anything to do with the cyst?
Could it be that my estrogen was suppressed by the additional synthetic progesterone from the mini pill?
Is this cycle taking longer because last cycle was shorter?
Is ovulation delayed because I injured my foot over the holiday weekend*?
Is it just random?

Today’s second follow up ultrasound showed no change in my lining, and I have growing follicles on both ovaries. The one on my left measures around 11mm, the three on my right measure ~14mm. Blood work shows that my estrogen and progesterone are still low: my estrogen is 72 (normal for me around ovulation is ~200 or more) and my progesterone is 0.95 (needs to be over 3 to suggestion ovulation is near), so I’ll go back Friday to see where we’re at.

Looks like another week-long delay, folks. And that is the downside to doing an unmedicated FET.

♥

*Ah yes, my foot.

We hiked up Cowles Mountain on Saturday evening. It’s the highest peak in San Diego, and only 1.5 miles of trail, so it’s quite steep. DH carried V in the Beco on the way up, but she insisted I carry her on the way down. Thirty pounds of toddler strapped onto my back is okay, but may have exacerbated my toe ramming the inside of my shoe. It was already painful to walk by the time we got to the car; at home, my toenail already showed bruising.

And then I dropped 1.5 lbs of Parmesan onto my foot.

Of all the toes, it had to be that one.

Ain’t that just the way the Reggiano crumbles?

The pain I experienced ranks only after 1) caesarean; 2) wrist laceration; and 3) HSG. I have no idea how it could be so painful, but the kitchen scissors I was using to cut open the Parmesan’s plastic nicked my heel, and I didn’t even notice. I dropped to the floor screaming and crying, and nearly passed out with the pain. I guess when blood collects under your nail, the pressure and swelling lifts the nail plate away from the bed. (No wonder why this was a popular form of mediaeval torture…) I probably should have gone to urgent care, but the thought of waking up V at 10.30pm on a holiday weekend, spending several hours with her being awake in the middle of the night, just so a doctor could drill a hole in my toenail… Absolutely no way. I took a painkiller and went to bed.

I’m probably going to lose the toenail. It’s grey. It’s gross. It’s bandaged up and, after a couple of days of keeping my foot elevated, I am hobbling around.

On the plus side, DH has expressed his renewed appreciation for everything I do with V. It’s nice to have my contribution acknowledged. Some days I feel like I don’t do much, why am I always so tired? How are other moms able to take their kids to gym class and make sensory boards and make swoonsome meals and keep their homes neat or clean or (how the actual fuck?) both?

And then I start mildly freaking out about the possibility of two children. Am I really ready for this? But that’s a whole other post…