Stress and needles

After some casual medication smuggling, things finally got going for real at home.

I started prenatal vitamins. I had my very last drink. I used inhalers to start preparing my lungs for surgery.

I took Provera pills with hormones twice a day for a week, there was an excruciating wait where my period was supposed to come but didn’t, and then, when it finally did arrive… the clinic emailed to say they wanted to reschedule the IVF cycle because it could end up being too close to Christmas. I nearly fainted reading that!

I called and pleaded with them, half in tears, babbling about hotels and train costs and please, just please… To their credit, they were very understanding and they let us change clinics for the surgery to one that doesn’t close before Christmas.

And then, a few hours later, I was already sitting in the kitchen with Jo unwrapping a needle and wondering how on earth to stab myself with it.

Our clinic are focused on developing 6-8 good quality follicles so the stimulant they prescribe is a fairly low dose. I have to start off injecting the stimulant (125g Bemfola) into my thigh at the same time each day.

There’s something really odd about actually injecting yourself. It feels unnatural! Everything in your brain screams at you not to put the sharp thing inside yourself and definitely not push some liquid in there too. You know you have to, but still it feels wrong.

My hands shake so badly the first time I can barely aim. But I stab, and it works, it goes in… The next time is a little easier, and so is the next. Alcohol wipes and instructions, air bubbles and tapping the syringe, both Jo and I learn how to do it and she’s right there with me for each one, worrying and checking and talking me through it.

It doesn’t become any less stressful. As I write this, I have done several injections, and you know what… I’m still nervous for each one!

But we know why we’re doing this <3