sharp

So the drugs came yesterday. The box was … daunting.

A cubic foot of DOOM.

Once I got it home, got the Gonal-F into the fridge, and checked over the inventory,* I found myself completely unable to deal with the fact that that box is indeed full of needles. Needles that are forthwith going into my soft fleshy underbelly.

I don’t have a needle phobia, really, but no one likes injections.**

It’s not like I wasn’t aware of what is about to happen (I haven’t been living under a rock, after all), but somehow seeing all those freaking needles laid out on my living room floor was too much for me yesterday.

We have been beating our heads against this particular wall for four years now. Most of the bloggers I started following in March 2010 (when I fired up The Intertubes for the first time) are now parents. While I was treading water, doing absolutely nothing due to my own potent combination of depression, anxiety, and no reasonable way to pay for treatments, you all were out there fighting. I vacillate between seeing your successes as inspirational (“if she can do it, maybe I can too”) and seeing them as tick marks on some Cosmic Scoreboard for a game that I am never going to win.

I hate that little competitive part of myself. I know this isn’t a zero-sum proposition — I know that Babies for You does not mean No Babies for Me — and it’s not often that I fall into that trap, but when I do it’s hard to get out.
It’s obnoxious, and envious, and I want it out of my personality.

But it’s a factor, along with the four years (48 months; 208 weeks; 40% of my marriage; 12% of my life) of absolutely nothing, in my unshakable belief that this is not going to work. I don’t think there is a baby in my future. Starting next week I am going to use all of those needles, one by one, and then I am going to have eggs sucked out of my ovaries, and then my husband’s sperm is going to be injected into those eggs, which will be deposited back into my uterus, and there is no part of me that believes that this sequence of events is going to result in a baby.

Not that that’s going to keep me from being inconsolably depressed when it doesn’t work.

* There are so many drugs in my house right now that they came with an INVENTORY. Just deal with that, please.

** OK, maybe somebody does. It takes all kinds, right?

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8 responses to “sharp

  1. That box is daunting and I have strong hopes that it will be your magic box. I know how hard it is to believe that anything will work after all this time, but it really can. Those drugs are an advanced storming of the baby castle. And i know you are a fighter. So I will impart that quality to your eggs. I made the Mr. give me the few shots I had to do, and was a huge chicken. I have loads of respect for everyone that manages those needles. I’ll be here to cheer you on!

  2. I’m not quite at the point you are yet (box of scary needles and drugs won’t arrive for another 2-3 weeks or so), but I have a hard time believing it will work, too. I don’t know if it’s a form of self-protection, or what, but I do find it just so hard to believe that I’ll end up with a baby. I’m working on it. Best of luck!

  3. I can really relate to that deep down gut feeling that you will never have a bio baby. I feel that way all the time. One of my friends who went through infertility for 10 years told me she felt that way, too, and now she has her little one. It’s sort of uplifting sometimes, but sometimes it does feel like babies for you means no babies for me. You are not alone, is all I’m saying. I’m not trying to pep you up or install that evil thing called “hope.” But you are not alone.

  4. Oh, you did a much better job of laying all that stuff out. I stacked it up with the stuff I’d need first in front and then kinda smooshed all the rest of the stuff towards the back of the top of my dresser afterwards. The endometrium suppositories are particularly yummy (yucky).

    I hate you have that deep feeling. I hope it’s wrong. I started having it right after my second IVF, and that’s why I’m just done with ART. It goes away (briefly) for me sometimes, and then it comes back. For me, I think I that feeling is good – it’s gotten me off the ART ride, which was just not getting me anywhere. One day, though, I hope you write a Reflective Tuesday post (or whatever day it is that people do those reflective posts) and point out just how wrong you are… with your baby in a cute picture, maybe wearing a knit sock monkey hat!, at the end of the post.

  5. The longer you have to wait, I think, the easier it is to believe it’s not going to work. I find myself getting closer and closer to that feeling. But you’re just–finally!–getting started. And I’m cheering you on!

  6. OH MY, that is a mightly symbolic box. I sure hate that you have it your life. It sucks. I imagine it all seems so wrong and unnatural and weird. Or not. I think it would for me.

    And I guess I should confess that my latest baby was actually supposed to be yours, but I totally hijacked it. Sorry. For reals though, I strongly believe that whatever feelings of competition or distress at the passing of time and the moving on of others and the not moving on of you guys that may come up—I think they’re completely natural, and unavoidable. If you can push them down even occassionaly, I give you mad props. Please don’t feel bad for “bad” feelings. It IS bullshit that you’re not done with this whole searching for parenthood business yet.

    As for believing it won’t work, well, that seems natural as well. I mean, why wouldn’t you have conceived by now if it were going to happen? Except that there are actual reasons. So much of this stuff is still mysterious. Maybe despite all the things you’ve done, your eggs aren’t making it into your fallopian tubes. I don’t know. I don’t know why IVF works for people when other things haven’t, but it does. You’ve seen it loads of times. There’s no reason at all why it shouldn’t for you. And hey, you don’t have to believe it, not even a little. It may seems stupid to you, but I never believed I’d be pregnant.

    Anyway, I’m not trying to dismiss any of these feelings, just mainly here to say that my obnoxious baby hoarding presence is here to support you all the way.

  7. I remember how daunting it felt with I had to fully face the fact that I would need to stick needles, EVERY DAY, in my own belly. I also don’t have a needle phobia, and I am also of the opinion that I am just one of the majority who don’t like needles. I remember that I asked my friend who is a nurse practitioner to assist me in giving myself my first menopur injection (on June 13, 2009). I was shaking, and stalling, and it was generally a gong show. Pretty much the same thing happened the next day, except sans nurse practitioner friend.
    The thing is, and you’ll tell me this in a few weeks, it all becomes SO BANAL! Really! It’s just a thing you do, like flossing. You’ll marvel at your own previous discomfort and fear, as you unreservedly plunge that needle in your own flesh. Give it time, and you’ll be a pro.
    As far as making predictions on the success of this endeavor, why not reserve judgement. Why not leave it as a question mark. It will work or it won’t, and no matter what, you will be ok, you will live through it. You are strong. Because it’s easier for me to do so than for you, I will sit here and hold all the hope my heart can carry. I see a baby in your future.

  8. Wow. I basically could have written this post. Especially this paragraph:

    But it’s a factor, along with the four years (48 months; 208 weeks; 40% of my marriage; 12% of my life) of absolutely nothing, in my unshakable belief that this is not going to work. I don’t think there is a baby in my future. Starting next week I am going to use all of those needles, one by one, and then I am going to have eggs sucked out of my ovaries, and then my husband’s sperm is going to be injected into those eggs, which will be deposited back into my uterus, and there is no part of me that believes that this sequence of events is going to result in a baby.

    I feel like it’s the one thing that no one understands. That I really don’t believe it will work.

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