We picked up the meds for the our first round of IVF about two weeks ago. The pharmacist explained what each one was, but it was all Greek to me. None of it made sense, and I just kept looking at her putting in one box after another into a bag much larger than any other I have ever picked up from a pharmacy. There were a couple injections that had to be kept refrigerated, so when we got home, I put those in the fridge, put the bag of meds off to the side, and proceeded to ignore the bag, only acknowledging its presence when I had to move it out of my way.
I had my second ultrasound on Wednesday. My doctor measured the lining of my uterus, panned over to my right ovary, and said, “Look at that trusty right ovary with all those follicles! That’s fantastic!”
Do you see why I like her so much?
Yesterday, I had to go back to the hospital to get a tutorial on all the injections I had to give myself at home. The nurse went through each of the different injections and demonstrated how to prepare, administer and dispose of each. It was a hands-on tutorial, so I was especially grateful that she waited patiently for me to try it out myself, then write copious notes on each procedure. I left the tutorial thinking, “Yeah… okay… I can do this.” Once I got home, it hit me:
Shit. I have to actually do this .
I think a LARGE part of me truly believed that IUI would work, and when it didn’t, it went on to believe that we would, by some miracle, conceive naturally over the holidays.
But it didn’t…
And we didn’t…
So here we are.
The daily injections start Sunday night. I’m scared but excited. I know that once this works, and we’re holding our child in our arms, we’ll look back and say that it was all worth it. For now, I’m trying to prepare myself mentally and emotionally for the next few weeks.