This is the first blog post in a series from a client that is experiencing infertility and undergoing her own IVF experience. Her writing bares all, is funny, brutally honest, and hopefully helps you feel less alone on your own fertility journey. Enjoy!
-Misty
Part One
Stims Day 1: It wasn’t that bad, but I cried anyway.
A bit of background about me: at the time of writing this I’m 34, and my husband will be 35 next month. We’ve been together for 5 years and married for 2 1/2. We started trying to conceive in January of 2015, and had recurrent miscarriages. The doctor was able to test the genetic material and found genetic abnormalities were the cause of the miscarriages. My doctor believes it is an issue with egg quality. We have opted to do IVF with PGS.
I am doing an antagonist protocol for IVF. The meds will follow this general pattern to get my body ready for retrieval: birth control pills, then Gonal-F, then when follicles reach a certain size, add Cetrotide and Menopur.
I took the birth control pills for 4 weeks before starting stims. I expected it to be no big deal. After all, I started taking birth control pills when I was 16 years old, and continued to take them for 16 years with no problems whatsoever. Let me tell you, it was a totally different experience from before! I had terrible side effects. Maybe it was just an adjustment period and I didn’t remember how it felt to adjust to them way back when I was 16 and full of vigor. But this time around, I was bloated, I cried randomly, I’ve never been so angry at my husband for no reason at all, and I had zero energy. Blargh! I’m so glad to be able to stop taking them!
Last night was my first injection of stims (Gonal-F). The doctor said to pick a time between 6-9pm, so the hubs and I chose 9pm to give us time to grab dinner after work if we wanted to. I couldn’t concentrate on anything all day because I was just so nervous/excited/distracted about really starting this process.
We went out for sushi (getting in that sushi while I’m not pregnant!) and then came home and watched an episode of Parks & Rec to lighten my mood and distract me (I <3 Leslie Knope!). Finally, it was time!
We set up a little “stims station” in our kitchen by the fridge. It is a clean surface that has our sharps container, alcohol swabs, gauze pads, and Band-Aids (cute ones, of course!). I purchased some small gel ice packs and iced the area for the injection for about 3 minutes while my husband and I re-watched the educational video on how to give yourself the Gonal-F injection. Then, we went step by step through the process together–cleaning the redi-pen, attaching the needle, checking for air bubbles, and setting the dose.
I cleaned the area where I was going to get the injection with an alcohol swab and let it air dry. I did some deep breathing to try and calm my nerves. My husband gave me a pep talk and told me how awesome I was. I told him where to give the shot, then looked away (I couldn’t watch!). He gave me the injection. I could feel it, but it really wasn’t bad. The needle is very thin and pretty short. The worst part was when he pushed the plunger down to give me the meds, but I had a very high dose for the first injection, and I don’t anticipate it being quite as uncomfortable moving forward. It just stung a little. He held the needle in for 5 seconds after pushing the plunger down and then removed it, while I covered the area with a gauze pad and put a Band-Aid on. Then we high-fived. Then I cried.
I didn’t cry because it hurt–it really didn’t hurt. And I didn’t cry because I was scared. I feel pretty optimistic and have reached a fairly zen place about the process. I cried because I am still so sad that I have to do IVF. I’m so sad that I lost the pregnancies that I lost. I’m sad about the financial hit we’ve taken to do this. Part of me still feels inadequate (it is my poor egg quality that caused the miscarriages). Then I have to reach down, deeper, past the shame and sadness and fear, and grasp on to the little seed of strength that is in the core of me. I don’t have to grow it myself anymore (even though I know I could). My husband waters it every time he gives me words of encouragement even when he needs them himself. When he cries with me over what we’ve lost and what we might have in the future. When he makes sacrifices to fight for this potential future child. When he tells me I’m awesome, gives me a shot, and then high fives me. I push all the love from him and me down into this seed of strength and the seed flourishes. I dry my tears, and go watch some more Parks & Rec.
-Anonymous Author
Until next time, keep dreaming,
Misty M. Reed, Fertility Consultant & Coach
Want to connect on Facebook? Click here!
Did you find this blog post moving or insightful? If so, please share it on social media by clicking on any of the buttons below. And contact us if you have any questions about how fertility coaching can help you reach your dreams of growing your family.
Picture Copyright