This is my confession.
It feels like we prepared for this IVF cycle for forever. After our first visit to the RE (reproductive endocrinologist), we knew there was a chance we’d end up going down this path. We tried 12+ medicated cycles, five of which included IUI. We even got lucky once and had a very short-lived pregnancy. After two more failed IUI’s, we were pretty sure IVF was in our future.
For over a year, every decision about how to spend any significant amount of money, from vacations to home improvements to buying an appropriately sized duvet for our bed (which we still haven’t bought, but hey, it’s summer again now!), was put on hold. We must have said to each other, “Let’s not spend the money right now… in case we need IVF,” about a hundred times. After a couple of last-ditch unmonitored IUI efforts early this year, we just kind of ended up doing IVF.
When I think back, we never really had THE BIG TALK… you know, the “Are we SURE we want to spend $20K on this?” talk. I have no regrets and I think we would have both said yes had we had that talk, but it felt more like we just kind of slid into the whole thing. First there was an IVF consult, the parting gift from which was a mountain of paperwork full of weird things to consider (like, what happens to any frozen embryos if we both die?). Then there was a two-week period when I had to take birth control (obviously because it helps you get pregnant), which bought us a little time to apply for two 12-month 0% APR credit cards.
The next thing we knew, we had paid for our cycle in full at the clinic, dropped $3K for all the drugs I’d need, and attended an injection training at Walgreens. It was more fun than it sounds, thanks to a very friendly and tolerant pharmacist… Dean and I make jokes when we’re nervous. We’re very funny.
Then the real fun started… making sure we were both home every night at 9pm for shots to stimulate my ovaries, shots to slow down my ovaries, and shots to help the eggs mature inside my ovaries. After two weeks of that, we had the retrieval and then the progesterone shots began. Again, every night at 9pm, Dean gave me a shot in the butt with a 1.5″ needle. Even after becoming pros at the other shots, we were deliriously nervous about the first progesterone shot. I actually thought he was going to hit a bone (Boy, did I overestimate the fitness of my booty). We continued these injections for another two weeks until THE BIG DAY, when we would find out whether this whole thing worked or not. (SPOILER ALERT: it did not work.)
If all that sounds grueling and stressful and painful and EXPENSIVE, well, it was! But it was also exciting. Every awkward moment, every time we redrew the black permanent marker circles on my ass to make it easier to stab the needle right into the bullseye, every time we quoted our favorite YouTube injection tutorial (“dart-like motion!”), every time Dean fed me a mini-marshmallow afterwards (“for being good”), we did it with the hope and excitement that we were starting a family. Finally.
As you know from the spoiler, as quickly as the whole thing started, it was over with a single phone call on Monday. No more shots, no more pills, no more marshmallows, no more waiting to find out, and no more excitement. That night, we went to bed without any shots and I cried myself to sleep. Not right away, of course. It takes about an hour of violent, body-shaking sobbing to tire this girl out! Honestly, if you’re not convulsing, you’re not doing it right.
The truth is, I miss the needles. I miss the bonding that only a nightly ritual of bending over the bed and being stuck in the ass by my husband can bring. I miss reminding Dean to pull out a little before injecting the drugs (trust me, this is important) and joking about how maybe pulling out has been our problem all along. I miss the Mickey Mouse and Disney Princess Band-aids that we picked out together… But most of all, I miss not knowing that I’m not pregnant.