Why did no one tell me that IVF would suck balls? That’s not how I have ever seen it in the
movies… she always has a couple of injections in the butt, lots of doctor
visits, and then a baby (that was always fat and pink and not covered in birth
gunk) would be handed to the happy, but tired, looking couple 9 months later in
a hospital room. Isn’t that how this is all supposed to work?
The
Sergeant and I officially began step 1 of the IVF process last week and, of
course, because I never do anything the easy way, there have been a few
complications that have already lengthened and intensified the process. My cervix, apparently, has decided to shut
down for business, and I have had to have extra appointments to try and get it
to cooperate. Next week, I have to go in
for a Trial Embryo Transfer, just to make sure everything will work when we do
the actual transfer sometime in December or January. All of this has added to the emotional and
physical difficulty, and honestly, it’s even more overwhelming than I was
mentally prepared for. And we’re not
even to the injection phase yet!
It’s
hard to explain, even to the Sergeant, how difficult every aspect of this ride
can be. Every time I’m on the table with
my feet up in stirrups, I feel like my body is broken and find fault in myself
that we have had to go through this process.
Every time I have to stay home, because my body is uncomfortable and in
pain, I question whether all of this is worth it. Every time I cry over the anxiety of this process,
this journey, this aching need to be a mother, I feel guilty that the Sergeant
has to deal with all of this and crazy ol’ me on top of it. To say the least, I have been feeling
overwhelmed.
But as
Thanksgiving draws nearer, I am trying my best (and believe me, it hasn’t been
easy!) to focus on what I am grateful for…and I have a lot to be grateful
for. The Sergeant, who has reworked his
schedule and been at all of these IVF appointments to hold my hand and wipe
away my tears. My family and friends,
who listen to my complaints about how the meds are making me hormonal and how the
procedures are awkward and painful. My
great doctors, who listen when I have a panic attack on the table and are
willing to stay in the room and answer the million questions I have after each
appointment. And Huck, of course, is
great at distracting me by throwing his toy around and acting like a wild
animal when I need to be distracted from my discomfort. I have food on my
table, a roof over my head when it is snowing, and God continually meets all of
my needs and I believe he will continue to do so as he guides me through the
chaos of IVF.
I can
get through this. I will get through
this. And, as always, I pray a someone
hands me a baby at the end.
