Laughing with Sarah

Tonight was the same drill as usual. I almost almost grabbed the pen and did it myself...but didn't. We're in such a nice routine, you know? I get everything all set, load the cartridge into the pen, ice down my belly, clean everything with a tiny little alcohol pad, and hand the pen to Matt to finish up the dirty work. Why on earth would I want to change it if things are going so well? ;) I want to do it, at least once...just to say that I did it. But if I never get the guts...well...then Matt gets all of the applause for his awesomeness! Tomorrow morning is more bloodwork and an ultrasound. The routine likely changes beginning tomorrow night...

Absolutely nothing new under the sun to report. Third night of injections tonight. Belly starting to feel strangely heavy, if that makes any sense. But that's just how it goes. Oh, and have I mentioned that my low-dose aspirin are these tiny little pills...that have little hearts on them??? Cutesy...and oddly comforting.

Nothing much to share, other than we are two days down. No pain or anything, and feeling great. On the train this evening, I realized that I was more aware of my ovaries, like I could sort of feel that they existed, so I wonder how I'm going to feel a week from now... But at least right now, I'm feeling good! And the second day of injections was way easier than the first. Still had Matt do it for me, but hopefully tomorrow I will get the nerve to try it myself. Can I just say that my husband is hilarious? After last night's injection, he was trying to communicate just how good and sharp the needle was, and how easy that made the injection. He said that doing the injection was just like “stirring water with a knife…because, you know, it takes no effort to stick a knife into a glass of water.” But seriously. What an amazing guy. Hanging with me through all of this. :)

Tonight was my first self-injection. An "easy" one, using a fancy pen, rather than a regular syringe. It even comes in its own carrying case: I wanted to be brave and do it myself, but couldn't. I prepped everything, took the cap off the pen, grabbed a pinch of belly fat...and froze. Matt fetched an ice cube, and I numbed my pinch of belly fat, and held up the pen...and froze. Thank goodness for amazing husbands who aren't afraid to stick their wives with needles. And I don't know if it was the ice or the tiny needle, but I didn't feel a thing. So with a little fear of the unknown out of the way, hopefully I will be able to get over my fear and do it myself tomorrow night.

On the clinical side of things, we are ready to go! On birth control pills for the rest of the week in preparation for starting injections on Sunday. Baseline bloodwork and ultrasound coming up this Thursday. All my medications arrive tomorrow. This is real. It's really happening. After so many months of "hurry up and wait," we are finally at "hurry up because it's all about to begin!" I have talked with a few others about how this stage of things seems so disconnected from the actual goal of having a baby. Especially for those of us who hate needles, IVF is all about surviving one day at a time and not thinking ahead. In the process of not thinking ahead to your next day's injections, you find that you don't think ahead to being done with them (other than, perhaps, to feel a little anxious about egg retrieval and transfer, which are uncomfortable in different ways than injections). So you don't think ahead to post-transfer jitters and

A little more than a week ago, Matt and I went back in for a post-test consult, and walked out of the office with an actual gameplan and an actual start date. There was nothing said in that follow-up consult that was terribly different than what we already knew. My bloodwork came back fine, my HSG came back fine, Matt's SA was a little worse than average, but nothing that we hadn't already figured out when they sent him results following his test. So February 26. That's the date. That's when this all begins. February 26 is the scary first day of self-injections. It is a day that will hurl me toward egg retrieval surgery, and then embryo fertilization, and genetic testing, and (if all goes well) and embryo transfer just shy of a week after retrieval. And then waiting, and hoping, and the possibility of a baby. This is going to be the hardest thing I have ever done. I have had this thought a few times as we've looked ahead toward IVF, but now that I have