Well, I did it. I made it through a second pandemic retrieval, on election day no less, just after an historic ice storm that caused the largest power outage in the history of the electric company. My power didn’t go out, risking my medication or the secrecy of my cycle, if we had to stay with family. I didn’t get Covid-19, nor did my husband, nor did any of the clinic staff, ultimately leading to the cancellation of the entire cycle. The most precarious part is over… and I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus. I don’t recall this being so painful last time, but I had a meltdown, after coming out of anesthesia, because it hurt so much. It didn’t help, of course, that I had to go through all of this alone, with Jake waiting in the car. I cried for the hole in my vaginal wall, my engorged ovaries, and my overly stretched perineum, but I also cried because pandemic IVF sucks. However bad I thought this process would be, and I’ve considered it a literal worst nightmare for most of my life, I should have doubled it. Considering the global pandemic, it would have been more accurate to quadruple it. At least if we have to go through it again, it’ll be in July of 2021 and the Covid-19 situation might be a little better. As for this time, however, out of 30 or so follicles, they retrieved 22 eggs, they’re really worried about OHSS, and I’ve vomited twice. That’s all I know, for now.