Gatorade is Kinda Yucky

Tomorrow is egg retrieval day! I am super calm. My facebook status even says so. I listened to my IVF hypnosis cd this morning. I'm puttering around with my gigantic ovaries. I'm going to take a nap. I'm going to watch Oprah. I never see daytime television because I'm always at work, so this is exciting. I don't have to give myself any injections today. I just get to chill...that and continue begging the universe with all my heart that this works out while simultaneously thanking it in advance because apparently gratitude is better than begging when it comes to this stuff. I'm hoping for 15 mature eggs and that they all fertilize and that at least 8 embryos make it to day 5. This may be asking a lot, but I'm asking anyway. We are planning to replace 2 embryos if we should be so lucky. I'm became not okay with the elective single embyo transfer [eSet] thing somewhere along the way, just like many others. We have to get up at 4:30 am to get ready and to the hospital for a 7:00 am retrieval. Maybe we'll take pictures.
I decided to make my own version of Gatorade because for the past 3 years of trying to conceive, I have been scrupulously avoiding dyes and flavorings and I really just couldn't stomach the thought of adding them in now, and no one had the clear version (I went to 4 stores!). I did have 1 bottle of lemon-lime in all of the excitement. The recipe for oral rehydration solution (Pedialyte) is easy and cheap to make at home and I recommend it to parents of dehydrated infants nearly daily, but I bought some Target brand solution and some organic apple/grape juice and I made my own super nice Gucci Gatorade. Plus, maybe the apple juice will help me remain regular...as in not constipated. Strangely, this is my primary fear...constipation. I don't want any struggling in the pelvic region. Of course the Pedialyte was in the baby section at Target. I tried not to look at carseats and baby stuff, because it is a dangerous emotional move of the sort I have avoided much like artificial dyes, but, like some kind of addict or indulgent parent, I allowed myself one long look...I gazed upon all of the gear...and thought...maybe this time...oh what joy...(the baby, not the stuff!)