The Clomid munching days are over for this month. For good hopefully, with a little bit of overdue luck.
The only concrete physical side effect seems to have been some blurred vision half way through the five days.
There was some restlessness and giddiness thrown in for good measure also, but considering what we're just a few days away from, that's no surprise.
Anyway, enough about me. ET is fine too.
I jest. Mostly.
About 36 hours from now, on Friday morning, we'll be having an ultrasound to see how many follicles have developed, and how well they have developed.
In the meantime we have a day and a half to wait, hoping that ET's little ovarian popcorn maker has spat out just the right number and quality.
More than three and the doctors cancel everything.
Less than two (or ONE as it's occasionally referred to) and the drugs will have been a waste of effort.
I think I need to rename ET's ovaries, seeing as we need the number of follicles to not be too little, to not be too large, but to be just right. So Goldilocks it is.
Goldilocks and the three follicles.
From that scan, we should know exactly when we need to give the trigger shot, and then exactly when the insemination will happen. Not to mention, sandwiched in between, we will have my own brave selfless act of self abuse to produce a batch of my finest man milk with which to perform the magic.
Almost certainly, it will all be done and dusted within a week at most.
It feels stupid to say it out loud, but just days from now, we could really be pregnant. Not that we would actually know it, but that is very, very hard to get my mind around.
So, for now, I'm not even going to try.