In need of a good cry?

Then read my friend Brando's eloquent, funny, and heartbreaking account of his and his wife's arrival at the end of the ART road. (They are both wonderful writers, too, so you may find you want to stay a while on their blogs.)

Would you like some cheese with that whine?

My life has been reduced to diluted apple juice and the occasional Triscuit. I am now five pounds below my pre-pregnancy (or, really, pre-IVF) weight. I was back to barfing yesterday, not 24 hours after getting out of the hospital. I don't want to have to go back, either - for one thing, the hospital has no wireless access, and the Internet is the only thing enabling me to continue working right now.

I have been delinquent in commenting on your blogs, but I am doing my best to keep up with the good news, the bad news, and the waiting.

L'hopital

So I called the clinic yesterday, and they told me to come in. When I came in, all kinds of things were aswirl, and the next thing I knew I was an inpatient at the hospital for the first time in my life. 36 hours and a lot of IV drugs and fluids later, I am feeling better. The goal now is apparently to keep me in a state of mild nausea, which sounds appealing at present. More later. Thanks for all your well wishes!

Perhaps I spoke too soon

By last night, Zofran was no longer working its magic on me. It wears off faster than I am allowed to take the pills. I nearly puked in bed last night (again).

Today, I feel like crap, and I can't take another pill until 2pm. I can't sit up or stand up for very long without feeling like I am going to barf. I'm not sure how I am going to get through this.

We had a little drama yesterday when I experienced an ocular migraine (but with no pain in my head). I have had them twice before, but not in the past ten years. I was worried that it was related to the Zofran, so I called the OB resident on call. She told me to go to the ER, where I saw a couple of doctors, who then referred me to the ophthalmologist on call, who took nine years to complete our visit, since she had to run upstairs periodically to deal with what I gathered was a victim (or, really, perpetrator) of a meth-lab explosion. The migraine had gone away after twenty minutes or so, but they were certainly thorough. They didn't think it was related to the Zofran, which is all I really wanted to know. I felt extremely nauseated by the time I got home.

I am really not sure how I am going to get through work this week, let alone months and months of this.

Big pharma, I love-slash-hate you

Mmmmmm....Zofran. Sweet Zofran. Light of my life, fire of my loins Zofran. $18 per pill Zofran.

So I called the RE clinic yesterday and demanded the above-named drug since the Phene7gan didn't seem to be doing the trick quite as much as one might hope. I was, you see, harboring a desire to return to work on Monday and wanted to give Zofran (which doesn't knock you out) a whirl. After I got over the shock of the $275 price tag for a partially filled prescription (five to seven days' worth of the stuff), I found that Zofran could take me from the severe nausea/frequent vomiting state to something that is probably more akin to regular morning sickness (mild nausea and some food aversions). I don't feel like my normal self, but I probably feel 60% like my normal self, which is significantly better than the 1% I had been feeling.

Several years back, I hiked the Inca Trail in Peru with some friends, and three of the five of us became deathly ill on the first day - couldn't keep anything down or, ahem, in - and yet we managed to continue hiking, forced to do so by our healthy friends and our coca-chewing guide. On the third morning, we woke up feeling like 60% of our normal selves, but to us, it was as if we had never felt better. One of my friends observed that it was amazing what you could do when you had no choice. I am trying to keep that in mind now.

I still feel very weak, and for some reason my equilibrium is off - I very nearly fell backwards down our steep wooden stairs last night. My goal for the weekend is to get used to sitting upright more, thereby getting myself back into shape for work. I ate a waffle this morning. Hallelujah!

Only two more hours until I can take another delicious, highway-robbery-committing Zofran. In other news, my boobs finally hurt (and have begun to alter their appearance) and I did feel quite tired this morning, even after getting 9.5 hours of sleep.

Flat Coke and Saltines

Not quite the same thing as cigarettes and red vines, eh? Anyway, that's what I'm attempting to keep down right now. Phene7gan works wonders for nausea, but you only get to enjoy your nausea-free feeling in your sleep since it packs a soporific punch. Last night, I would wake up from it and think that my life was back to normal, since I didn't feel like ass, but then I remembered it was just temporary, which makes me feel...hmmm...how do you say it? Oh yes, despair. I felt despair. I even felt a little hungry on a couple of those occasions, but by the time I really woke up, it was back to nausea.

(Aside: Charlotte Bronte died of hyperemesis - so illustrious!)

Whatever happens with this pregnancy, I feel sure that it is going to be my first and last one. Have you ever had food poisoning? You know, where you alternate between severe nausea and urgent puking (even though you may have nothing left to puke)? That's what I feel like all day long, and that's what I fear stretches for months and months before me. I am beginning to feel as if fate was, in fact, telling me something by not letting me conceive the old-fashioned way. Fate, I apologize. I will never try to thwart you again.

I have an hour and a half more until I can take another Phene7gan, so I am going to try to get some work in, since we need my excellent health coverage, goddammit.

Less textbook

Okay, I really feel like shit. Like, I awoke out of a dream last night, about to vomit in my bed. This repeated itself several times. I can't drink liquids or keep food down with much success. I am only exaggerating slightly when I say that if I had a terminal illness and were experiencing these feelings, I would very strongly consider ending all treatment and asking for a big dose of morphine.

I bought some Sea-Bands today. Let's hope they help. Bllllleah.

Textbook

I read online that the average time from conception to the onset of morning sickness is 5 1/2 weeks. At precisely 5 weeks and 4 days, I came down with something that reminds me of some of the hangovers I had in high school after a few too many Bartles & Jaymes wine coolers. Bleah! I'm trying to stuff some oatmeal down my gullet so that I can take my vitamins and aspirin and Es7race. Eww.

On the plus side, I don't feel overly tired yet (except for the weakness from my not being able to eat or drink much), and my boobs don't hurt at all.

Mouths agape

A "Eureka!" moment occurred in our house this weekend. Now, perhaps someone has figured this out before (a la Newton and Leibniz developing calculus simultaneously), but I report to you that we have determined an all-purpose response to rude inquiries or comments regarding IVF (or IUIs, for that matter). When faced with such an inquiry or commentary, simply respond, "Well, of course we did IVF. How else could we remain virgins?" Then prance merrily away from their gaping jaws.

Speaking of virginity, I have been tagged for the first time, courtesy of Nilla at Vanilla Dreams. I am supposed to respond quickly to these four words.

1. Coffee. I stopped drinking coffee, for the most part, nearly two years ago. Since then, I have become a green-tea evangelist, but I've had to quit even that since its cancer-preventing properties also apparently prevent folate absorption by buns in ovens. I've developed something of an aversion to coffee since I quit it, with one situational exception: vacation. When I'm on vacation, I guzzle coffee. I want it. I need it. It feels outrageous and decadent. Energy courses through my veins and possibilities present themselves to me, sort of like when you have that first glass of wine. Mmmm, wine.

2. Rain. Since we've been homeowners, I have grown a bit afraid of rain. Rain leaks through the roof. Rain falls on the lawn and causes it to grow, which causes it to need mowing, which in turn usually results in conversations like this. MM: "Are you going to mow the lawn?" MM's Husband: "I'm so tired!" MM: "Well, when are you going to mow it?" MMH: "Stop nagging me." MM: "Do I have to do everything around here?" (Note: I have never actually mowed the lawn, and I mean that literally, you perverts.)

3. Star. Oh, shame. I have to admit that when I see this word, the first thing that comes to mind is Star Jones Reynolds, a powerful candidate for the honor of Most Ridiculous Person in the World (Possibly the Universe). More ridiculous than Britney Spears, K. Fed., and perhaps even Katherine Harris. More ridiculous than all of the Hiltons put together. More ridiculous than Scientology and Joe Simpson and Heckuva Job Brownie.

4. Hula-hoop. Um, yet another thing I'm not good at?

I now tag the following four people:

1. Emmie at Fertility Lost.
2. TLB at Illiterati.
3. Midwestern Deadbeat at Midwestern Deadbeat.
4. Jane at Jane's Calamity.

Your words are:

1. Deodorant.
2. Throwback.
3. Period.
4. Blossom.

dREam

Last night, for the first time, I dreamed about my REs. There are five REs and two fellows at my clinic, and while they did not all appear in my dream, they were all implicated. I always find it disturbing to dream about someone for the first time; it seems to be some kind of official signifier that they have entered your consciousness. It is probably disturbing to you the first time that someone inflicts one of their dreams on you. So be it.

Anyway, in my dream, I was in the clinic, being seen by the pregnant RE. We had wrapped up whatever violations of my person would generally occur in the clinic, and she said, "So how are you?" And I said, staring at her pregnant belly, "Oh, I'm just worn out by being infertile." Then, thinking that she would assume I was passive-aggressively comparing myself to her, I generously added, "But of course you know that, given that this is your job and you have to see people like us every day."

And then she started speaking vaguely but nonetheless pointedly. She observed that there was a blog out there that talked about she and her colleagues and the clinic generally, and I totally knew that she knew (and she knew I knew) that I was the writer of said blog. She said, "It's clear that we are being discussed on this blog, and it makes us sad." Sad! It made them sad! I admitted no culpability, but later in the dream I found myself dumping pages and pages of paper into a trash can, which was the way you deleted posts in my dream Internet, okay?

Anyway, I was greatly relieved when I awoke.

A new kind of panic

I am feeling good - no symptoms to report yet, although I suspect they will hit soon if I am indeed carrying twins. And that is the subject of this post: I am totally freaked out by the idea of having twins. Obviously, this is quite an irrational swing. As my husband pointed out, it is a bit insane that just a month ago I was depressed over infertility, and now I am depressed at the idea of fecundity (well, fecundity on the infertile spectrum). What's more, my panic is extra-foolish in that I won't even know what the deal is until the end of the month, so I might as well not freak out about it.

But telling me not to freak out is like telling my dog that he might consider not barking at pedestrians. I am experiencing a crazy mix of gratitude, surprise, relief, fear that it won't work out, fear that it will work out, and much, much more. Now I understand why infertile women have a greater proclivity towards depression during pregnancy, which always struck me as a bit of a head-scratcher before.

I suppose this is all yet more evidence to support the Nobel-Prize-worthy theory I like to call You Can't Know What Something Is Like Until You Experience It, Unless You Are Really, Really Imaginative (Which Most People Think They Are, But Are Not).

I guess I just worry that I will fail if I end up having twins - ie, that I won't be (wo)man enough for the challenge. The insecurity!

Thanks for all the comments on the posts below; I really appreciate them!

Beta #2

Came in at 2544 at 17dpo (or it could be 18dpo, since the hatched blast was really a day-6 blast). They were looking for 1348, so this is high. Twins, perhaps? We'll find out at the ultrasound on 9/29.

I'm calling a genetic counselor today to investigate the tests we may need (there are some issues on my side of the family, but the REs didn't want to do PGD because it hasn't been shown to improve pregnancy rates in situations like mine).

Holy moly. This train has left the station. We'll see if it crashes along the way, but for now it seems to be plowing ahead. No symptoms to report yet, just some vague cramping.

The second Friday in September

Five years ago, on the second Friday in September, I was laid off from my job at a high-tech startup in Silicon Valley. It had already been a bizarre week. The weekend before, I had gone to probably the poshest wedding I'll ever go to, where the bride and groom flew everyone to a super-luxe location and housed all thirty-five or so guests. When my flight landed back in California, I had a message from my father that my great-aunt, whom I had loved dearly, had died. My mother (whose aunt it was) was in Europe at the time. My brother and I flew to the funeral, forced by Continental Airlines to expend fifty thousand frequent flyer miles each in order to fly on planes that were no more than one-sixth full, and we flew back to California less than a day later. I went back to work for a day, and the next day, I was laid off.

There were some mitigating factors that kept me from being too profoundly devastated by this news: I'd just received a great performance review; the person who I thought was the best employee at the whole company was also laid off; it was the fifth round of layoffs; and I hated the commute (and a few of my co-workers). Still, it sucks to be let go. The forty or so people who'd been laid off met over at what we called "Building D," a pub called the Duke of something or other that was remarkably authentic and incongruously located in a strip mall. We all drank a lot and ate some fried shit.

Later that night, I hosted a bunch of my friends for ladies' night, something that had long been planned and turned out to be perfectly timed. The following night, I met up with a few friends who were also not working (unemployment was in vogue back then), and we spent a hilarious evening trying to think of the ideal reply to the "So, what do you do?" question; it would have to be something both serious-sounding and vague, with just enough of a hint of surely you're familiar with it in your tone of voice that the inquirer would not ask any follow-up questions. What we came up with was "threat assessment."

My boyfriend at the time, now my husband, had been out of town, but was back that Sunday. By Monday, I was happy not to be in that stupid job anymore, and, pumped up by my friends, I was beginning to see lots of better possibilities for my work life. My boyfriend and I decided to go hiking on Tuesday up in Marin - a sort of cathartic, indulgent excursion.

If you're doing the math at home, then you realize that when we woke up on Tuesday morning, there had been a terrorist attack. Like everyone, I stopped worrying about my individual problems, and it didn't even occur to me for a long while that my job prospects might be inconvenienced by world events. We went to a funeral that day down in Palo Alto; one of my boyfriend's college friends had committed suicide a few weeks before. Oddly, the funeral had almost magnetic pull - the turnout was huge, I think because people just wanted to be with other people, and to hear a clergyperson say something wise.

If you had asked me back then to make some predictions about my life five years in the future, some of them would have been easy. I would have predicted I'd marry my boyfriend, since we were living together and it seemed headed that direction. But I couldn't have predicted that I'd move to a faraway state and have a kind of schizophrenic existence, with two careers and different, often distinct sets of friends located in several clusters all around the country.

Would I have thought I'd have children by now? Probably. Almost certainly. But I always somehow thought both that it would be easy for me to get pregnant and that it would be incredibly difficult. Call it doublethink. I always seem to think of things this way - that they'll go great, and that they'll turn out horribly. I start any endeavor with great optimism, but can all too quickly imagine the worst.

I'm not sure what the point of the post is. I don't know that things happen for a reason, or that they always turn out for the best. People are adaptable and somewhat unimaginative, and it is simply difficult to, for instance, imagine who your friends would be if you hadn't met these friends. I guess sometimes I envy people with unflappable optimism, or at least a sense of great certainty.

(Second beta is on Monday; I'll post 'em when I've got 'em.)

Holy crap.

Beta (14dpo) was 586 (!!!!). Check BetaBase for context.

Progesterone, however, was low (18). So now I have to do even more of the shit, not that I am complaining.

Follow-up beta on Monday morning. Holy moly.

A quick update

Well, I toted a cup of my own urine into the clinic today, and they tested it there. (They don't do a beta straight off unless you get a positive on the pee test or are merely demanding.) The nurse said it was a "very strong" result - the dot indicating pregnancy was darker than the control dot. The beta results should be back later this morning. I was given the option of calling the secret-agent hotline or having the nurse call me. I at first said I'd call the hotline, but then I realized that I'd have to wait until 3pm, whereas the nurse could call me when the results came back, which would be much sooner.

There will be a follow-up beta on Monday, then, if that goes all right, an ultrasound on 9/29. If the betas don't look right, then they'll do an ultrasound sooner, I guess to look for an ectopic.

Stay tuned......

$42

Here are the sticks I have peed on. Starting from the rear (against the wall) and moving forward in time:
- F@ctPlus, yesterday morning (FMU)
- F@ctPlus, yesterday at work
- F@ctPlus, yesterday evening
- FRER, yesterday evening (to see if brand mattered)
- FRER, this morning (FMU)
- W@lgreens this morning (another brand check)
- F@ctPlus, this afternoon

Yep, that's seven. At approximately $6 a test (if you get a deal), that's $42 that could have been spent on three articles of clothing from Old Navy (among other, more altruistic alternatives).

And miles to go before I stop POAS.

A urinepalooza has been occurring chez nous, and it has involved numerous brands of sticks. I would not call the positives outrageously dark, but they remain persuasive. I am incredibly curious as to what the beta will be tomorrow, and I also wonder whether I will get to call the secret-agent hotline for the results. Maybe I'll make a special request to do so.

Now that I've seen a +, I am scanning myself for symptoms constantly. As you probably deduced from my post on symptoms (and "symptoms"), I can psychosomatically cause myself to feel just about anything, so my analysis is not reliable.

In other news, our dog has learned how to jump in the car. (Before, we had to pick him up, and he's about 55 lbs.) This is a major development, and Cesar Millan would be proud of us.

Delicious.

Ahem. Well.

Okay, I'll get right to it. I POAS twice today, and I find myself in the possession of a faint-but-unmistakable positive. In other words, HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

My beta is Friday, and I vow to pee on dozens of sticks between now and then to make sure this isn't going away. I am currently packing one positive HPT in my purse because I brought a stick to pee on at work. That's a high-risk maneuver, but who could help it after so many years of snowy, snowy white tests?

I hope it isn't ectopic, chemical, blighted, or otherwise doomed. For now, though, I can't believe it, by which I mean I'm elated!

(If you know me in real life, please keep this to yourself until you receive the official word, handshake, tap on the shoulder, and coded message that it is okay to reveal. There is still so much that can go awry.)

Photographic evidence

This is a bit delayed, but here you go - a photo of the photo of my latest crop of embryos. That big mofo on the upper left is the hatched blast, and the smaller one crisply attired in a clean shell on the upper right is the early blast. The four at the bottom are the underachievers, who have since been discarded like old Thai leftovers.

Handsome little devils, no?

Assumptions

First, thanks for all of your replies on the posts below. You are all rational. Still, I am nearly 100% sure this cycle didn't work, although I would elatedly eat crow if I were wrong.

Anyway, one question that often comes up in my consultations with one doctor after another is whether any of my direct female relatives had endometriosis as well. And the answer, I now realize, is maybe.

Some background: my grandmother gave birth to my mother when she was 35, and then she gave birth to my aunt, who has Down syndrome, when she was 40. All my life, I had just assumed that she and my grandfather (who died when my mother was young) had gotten married late. But then my mother mentioned in passing a couple of years ago that my grandmother had been told by a doctor shortly before her marriage (which turned out to be when she was in her early 20s) that she would never have children. Why? I asked. My mother wasn't sure, but she thought maybe it was "fibroids or something." But maybe she had large endometriomas or similar? I don't know. Anyway, my grandfather went off to the war and then came back from the war, and my grandmother started feeling ill, and the next thing she knew an innocent rabbit had lost its life to confirm that she was pregnant.

Now, my parents got married right after college. My mother had me at 25 and my brother at 27. I'd always just assumed that they waited to get pregnant, since my father was in graduate school and my mother eventually was as well. Alas, I found out a couple of years ago that they had been trying that whole time to get pregnant, and it hadn't worked. Yeah, so having a hard time getting pregnant when you're 21 (and 22, 23, and 24) - not all that common. Endometriosis? Maybe.

My point is that I guess I wish I had found this all out sooner. But I grew up in a very WASPy family, and personal reproductive histories are not often discussed (unless someone has overshared after a few too many gin-and-tonics at Thanksgiving). I just laid my own assumptions on top of the few details I knew, and never thought to ask more. And you know about assuming - it makes an ASS out of U and ME. Ha!

I don't know if any of this information would have changed my own attempts at getting pregnant. After all, I got married when I was 31 and 1/2, and we started TTC not too long after that. We married three years after we'd met, and I believe that was the right amount of time.

But, still, it would be nice to be a few years younger. I feel as if my back is against the wall, reproductively speaking, and this is my only chance to have a biological child. It isn't a great feeling.

For the desperate and imaginative

I hate to brag, but after more than 24 cycles of trying to conceive, I am something of an expert on the early pregnancy symptoms that people report on fertility-related message boards, which I will not link to because (a) I have vowed never to enter an early pregnancy symptoms post again, or at least not during this cycle, (b) I have all the symptoms memorized, anyway, and (c) I would like to keep any neophytes away from such posts, for their own good. But it is safe to say that I've done my research.

Moreover, I can be quite imaginative and empathetically hypochondriacal, and so in the heady early days of TTC (and, later, the post-lap period and the early IVF era), I detected and/or persuaded myself that I was feeling these symptoms. As a result of this pioneering research, I can now bring you a list of some of the most commonly cited symptoms and possible alternative explanations.* If this saves even one desperate, imaginative, Dr.-Google-consulting IFer from wasting hours and hours wondering if maybe, maybe, she is knocked up (instead of just waiting a couple of days and then peeing on a stick), then my efforts shall have been worth all the heartache. With the time I have spent poring over these posts and analyzing my body, I could have written a hit screenplay that might have paid for more fertility treatments.

So here goes:

Sore boobs:
Possible explanation: You're pregnant!
Alternative explanations: Progesterone is making your boobs hurt. Or: that vise grip you've had on them for the last week (in order to check to see if they hurt) has resulted in bruises, which hurt.

Cramps that feel just like AF:
Possible explanation: Your uterus is expanding, since you're pregnant!
Alternative explanations: Your ovaries are each the size of your cat's head, and your uterus resents the fact that they're occupying all the real estate down there. Or: AF might be coming. Or: those are actually bowel cramps, indicating that perhaps you shouldn't have ordered the large seaweed salad or chased it with the cheese course. Or: so great are your psychosomatic powers that you have willed your uterus to cramp, in which case I acknowledge your accomplishment.

High temperatures:
Possible explanation: Your body is producing temperature-raising progesterone, because you're pregnant!
Alternative explanations: If you're doing IVF, you're injecting progesterone into your body every day, duh. Or: you're in such a frenzy of anxiety and anticipation at all times that you've pushed up your own body temperature. Yes, thank you, I am well known for this feat.

Discharge down thar:
Possible explanation: Your body is producing lots of fluid and plugging up your cervix in anticipation of 38 more weeks of pregnancy!
Alternative explanations: If you produce a solid amount of progesterone on a normal cycle, you probably have always done this and are only noticing it now, since why would you notice it normally, since, uh, gross? Or: drugs!

Flatulence:
Possible explanation: Your body is slowing down its digestion to get all the nutrients out of every bite you eat! You know, so it can feed your baby!
Alternative explanations: You've upped your fiber intake since you're TTC. Or: see seaweed salad comment, above.

Frequent urination:
Possible explanation: Your body is working overtime to clear toxins from your body! Since you're knocked up! (Note that I just made this explanation up.)
Alternative explanations: You're drinking water since you're TTC. Or: you always pee all the time. Or: you want to be peeing all the time since it would mean you're pregnant, so this makes you have to go more often. Or: someone has just told you you can't go to the bathroom for ten hours, which makes you have to go now.

The cat food smells bad:
Possible explanation: Pregnancy hormones have made your nose attuned to smells, perhaps to keep you from eating something rancid and endangering your baby-to-be.
Alternative explanation: The cat food always smells bad - you just don't normally get so close or indulge in a long, wine-sniffing snort of the stuff.

Metallic taste in your mouth:
Possible explanation: I have no idea. But you're pregnant!
Alternative explanations: You've been sucking on a penny. Or: your powers of psychosomatic conjuring are so great that you've created this sensation, in which case I bow humbly before you, because even I have never been able to feel this one.

Glass in your nipples:
Possible explanation: Pregnancy hormones are making your nipples grow and expand into disturbing, dark, saucer-sized entities.
Alternative explanation: Progesterone in oil.

Insomnia and nightmares:
Possible explanation: Your brain is detecting subtle changes in your pregnant body, and it is processing this rather major development.
Alternative explanations: This is merely a symptom of being (a) in the 2ww, (b) infertile, or, (c) in the most severe cases, in the 2ww and infertile.

Orgasm dreams:
Possible explanation: Your uterus is cramping as it expands, and so your sleeping mind tries to create a scenario around this physical sensation, which then results in some sort of pleasurable dream, which in turn creates a pleasurable physical sensation.
Alternative explanations: This is the one feint by the universe towards rectifying the injustice you're suffering; enjoy. Or: you're horny! (Note: this explanation is less likely if you are on your sixth (or higher) unsuccessful natural TTC cycle, in which case you may feel you never want to have sex again.)

Fatigue:
Possible explanation: Your body is in overdrive, trying to raise a good citizen of the world!
Alternative explanations: Progesterone. Or: all that hoping has worn you out. Or: insomnia and nightmares (see above).

Nausea:
Possible explanation: Pregnancy hormones are upsetting your tummy, which doesn't seem to make much sense, but then neither does your appendix.
Alternative explanation: You've been sniffing too much cat food.

Blue veins in boobs and stomach:
Possible explanation: Because you are working to support two lives, your circulatory system has to ramp up majorly - hence the visible veins.
Alternative explanation: You are descended from a long line of pallid, possibly inbred people of Northern European heritage, and your skin is always translucent; also, you were looking at yourself underneath fluorescent lights.


* Please note that I have no medical training and, in fact, haven't taken any science classes since I was in high school, except for "physics for poets" in college, which was one of my worst grades. Moreover, I have a short attention span and tend only to solipsistically read through studies that have direct bearing on my personal situation. Also, I am not very smart.

Nos

No sore boobs
No cramps
No weird smells
No pricks in the belly
No more flatulence than is, unfortunately, usual
No highlighter-yellow pee
No fatigue

(Those of you who have read early-pregnancy-symptoms message boards will know what I'm talking about.)

I would have hoped my excellent, hatched, 6-day blast could have burrowed in by now. Yes, it's probably early, but no, I can't stop wondering about it.