Tonight I gave myself an injection of lupron. I have no idea at this point how many times I given myself an injection, or a pill, or a patch. Too many to count.
I do know that I started this blog 6, almost 7 years ago. And infertility and loss continues to draw me back here to write.
I do know that I have posted nearly 300 posts, not to mention the couple dozen posts that sit in my draft folder, never to be finished or published.
It has been exactly a year and a half since there were IVF meds in this house.
And here we are again.
We actually intended to schedule our 2nd and final FET long ago. But it has been a roller coaster of a year with numerous challenges and stressors and we just never felt like we came up for air. But, we did come up for air, long enough to decide that it is now or never and called our clinic this summer to book an October date.
Since then, to be honest I have rarely given much thought to it other than the bare minimum of making sure I had the meds delivered on time, and the next appointment for this that or the other scheduled.. My husband had to remind me that tonight was the night to start injections as life has been a blur of the start of preschool (how did my baby become a preschooler??!!), start of a new job for me, and the hiring of a new nanny. Life is good right now. Really good.
I am not sure what I feel. I feel like I am just going through the motions- but it isn't in a "I don't care" kind of way. I guess I am not longing and grieving right now as was the case 3 1/2 years ago when we ventured into our first fresh IVF. But, I am not completely detached emotionally either- I think the emotions just run much further away from the surface this time around.
Tonight as my husband and I were refreshing our memory on just how to go about giving the injection, he came over and sat down and asked to pray with me. It caught me by surprise as prayer, sadly, has not been as much a part of our life together as a couple in recent times with the demands of parenting a very spirited toddler. But the stillness of sitting next to him as he prayed welcomed a flood of emotions over me. Flashbacks to the desperation, the hope, the grief, the anger of our 4 years of longing for the child we never knew if we would hold. Juxtaposed to the reality of our toy-strewn living room, with walls covered with preschool art projects from the daughter that I can't even recall what life was like before her. And then comes that longing. That desire. That hope that our family will be more than it is. The slight feeling of guilt that I would ever for a moment want more than I have. The giddyness of thinking about the possibility of just one more- -just one more-- plus sign on a pee stick. The warm, soft, slipperyness of that new baby, the hope realized, being born into our very own hands- brand new to this world, and yet a soul we feel like we have already and always known
But the fear is also there- the fear that a negative will spiral me into a dark place again. THAT dark place again. The fear that this is the end. The final final lottery ticket. The fear that I won't find a way to be at peace with our lil family of 3 being all there will be. That fear is real. It is there. And I guess I am grateful that I am too busy right now to feel any of that- most of the time.
October 13 is the transfer.
IF,....if it works.......(ahg, that is a loaded two letter word).....our hopes would be realized on or around July 1, 2015.
If.
