must. eat. brains.

Because that's the only chance I have of having enough brain cells to put together a complete sentence while I'm in this state.

With IVF #1 I had virtually no side effects from stimming. Sure I had weeks of constant, pounding Lupron headaches (and hours of whimpering and whining to go with them) but once I was suppressed and the cycle got rolling I felt pretty darn ok. I'd hear girls complain about bloat, tenderness, mood swings and I thought they were wimps. I was bloated and moody too, but I wasn't begging for my eggs to be sucked out at any cost. But I have come to learn that that's because I never experienced the bloating and moodiness. Not really.

But today, with 15 follicles and 9 nearing maturity and an E2 of 2100(ish) I'm starting to get it. I'm a moody girl in the best of times (my husband is so lucky) but even I don't ordinarily spend an entire evening sobbing because I feel "wrong". And I'm a lazy lazy woman, but even I can usually manage to...I don't know, *do stuff*. And I like to think that I generally have half a brain, often capable of unique and complete thought, but as that last sentence illustrates all blood flow seems to have been re-routed from my brain stem to my ovaries. (No, seriously: in this morning's ultrasound the screen suddenly started pulsing as she focused on my left ovary. As we sat watching blood rush to my ovaries, a rhythmic thumping perfectly in line with my heartbeat, she pointed out a very large artery feeding my ovary: one that's not usually so obvious. I suggested that she try to refrain from nicking it during retrieval and she concurred. Although it would be nice, for once, to have an explanation for the random luteal phase bleeding I expect to experience.)

My next appointment is tomorrow morning, assuming that I can shove off my exhaustion enough to drag myself out of bed. I'll be in the stirrups at 7:30am for (hopefully) one last time, assuming I still have the intelligence to remember which pedal is gas and which is brake. And if things go as expected I will do my first of many intramuscular injections tomorrow evening, as we finally trigger for IVF #2. That is, assuming that I don't retain so much fluid overnight that it overflows from my gut and into my backside; the inch and a half needle unable to penetrate the muscle, never making it past the retained water in my fat, flabby ass.

The time has almost come. I'm ready to be done. I'm fat, sore, tired and stupid. But I'm happy - really very happy.