Not Myself

Thank you all who have commented (here, by email, by phone, or in person.) I am so glad to know that my story was well received and understood. Unlike so many others going through this process, Sean and I are surrounded by awesome friends and a supportive family, who have let me drag them along on this dreadful roadtrip. I can't even imagine how difficult it would be to go it alone.

So here's an update: Sean started administering my progesterone injections on Saturday night. It was really hard for him to make that initial stab, and we had to watch a YouTube video to gear up for it. But he did an excellent job, as far as I could tell. I didn't see or feel a thing. I have developed my own special technique of thorough icing prior to and immediate heat, post injection, which seems, so far, to be foolproof.

I have not mastered any techniques for enduring the side effects of this process, however. The zen state I was in at the time of my previous post has vanished. And I am now overcome with irritation. I've been trying to find the words to properly describe these feelings I have, because, frankly, Sean deserves an explanation for my behavior. I had an outburst last night that involved yelling (controlled, as to not wake the sleeping baby) and throwing things (only my toothbrush, but it was covered in toothpaste and could have made a real mess.) It may sound mild, but those who truly know me get the significance.

I don't know why this hit me as such a surprise. I guess I assumed the stims were the main culprits of discomfort in my last attempt. But now I am reminded that it's fertility treatment, in general, that makes me crazy. The meds are pretty hard core, don't get me wrong, but they are an insignificant speck in the scheme of this manipulated menstrual cycle. The estrogen makes me ultra-sensitive and weepy, and now the progesterone has added sleepy, hot, broken-out, weak, constipated, bloated, crampy, bruised and achy to the list. Those are mostly physical discomforts, which I can totally handle. It's the underlying emotions that get to me.

Please don't assume I'm soliciting sympathy. I honestly just want to explain why I am not myself.

So, you get the pain as listed above. That's the easy part. Not so easy is enduring the constant and ever-so-annoying awareness of my body ~ every twinge, flash, and ache that infallibly remind me of what I'm trying so desperately to accomplish, yet have absolutely no control over. The worst emotion is the ugly resentment I can't help but feel, that such invasive lengths are necessary for Sean and me to perform the fundamental, natural, and expected act of reproduction. Ironically, that resentment brings shame for having those very feelings, and pressure to find exceptance of my own circumstances. (It is what it is, so I must deal with it. What good would it do to cry about it? Easier said than done.) Hold on, there's one more, a very real fear of failure, and recognition of the likelihood that we'll have to go through it all again, next month.

On a positive note, I have a very powerful tool for stifling all of my ill will...

The embryo transfer is tomorrow. I'll let you know how it goes. And soon, I promise to set all this negative talk aside and bring you up to date on the precious little IVF product pictured above. Very soon.

Thanks for listening.