Facing Fear

I noticed a strap on my (very old) pair of heels was broken, while removing them during a routine ultrasound.
I may have said fuck a bit too loudly in a tiny room with merely a thin curtain dividing me from the technician.

:deep sigh:

All I could think about was how long it's been since I bought any new clothing for myself.
Months....I think could easily be six months, and probably longer for any shoes.

Now, I totally understand this is a huge first world problem, but in that moment, a lot of irrational fear of this process came to the fore front.

Fear of the unknown, of the what-ifs, of the what if this doesn't work.

All the pain of these shots, all the waiting, all the sacrifices, all the wishing, all the appointments....what if this doesn't work?

What if it's all for nothing?

I try to smash these thoughts as often as possible.
I try incredibly hard to avoid articles and posts and social media regarding the dark side.
The struggle and failure to parenthood, because it just hits too closely to home sometimes.

Not that I have witnessed a miscarriage first hand.

Not that we are out of options....yet.

Not that we have exhausted all resources.....yet.

But there is always a very real possibility that after everything we do this year, we could come up empty-handed.

I am a realist and I know very, very well that we have about a 50% chance of success when and if everything is said and done.

Of course, overall I am positive person.
I laugh at a lot of shitty situations and let a lot of stuff roll off my back.

I know damn well this struggle has made me a stronger, more patient person, and has done nothing but strengthen my relationship with my husband, but that doesn't mean that when I am alone, in the darkness, just before bed...that the negative thoughts don't crowd my mind sometimes.

It doesn't mean that I don't tear up sometimes....overwhelmed with thoughts of failure.

But it also doesn't mean that I am in a desperate situation, grasping at straws to find the good in all of this.

We are knocked down constantly, but constantly get back up and move forward.

Each and every day we are hit with some sort of news or information that may or may not be in our favor.

When cycling, I live my life in 1-2 day increments, waiting for the next phone call from our nurse.
Waiting for protocol updates.

Every day I try and figure out exactly what tiny section of my abdomen is less sore from the last round of shots, and hope I don't wince too hard make Mark nervous.
Every day I re-check my medication in case I have to re-fill and have more over-nighted.
Every day I check our claims from the insurance, to make sure we weren't denied for another round.

Sometimes it IS overwhelming.
Sometimes I don't know if I can do another round, or see another doctor, or make another appointment.
Sometimes I just try to get through the afternoon, pushing past the exhausting side effects of the medication, waiting for 6pm to rear it's ugly head so Mark and I can "cook" as we call it.

Mix up the next round of injections.
Count to three.
Inject the first one.
Dab the blood away.
Ice.
Inject the next one.
Moan in agony because it burns going in.
More ice.
More blood.

Only to wake up and do it again. And again. And again.

I get nervous going to appointments, like all of a sudden the technician might tell me nothing is progressing.
That I might not have any eggs.
I wait on pins and needles for the follow-up call.

Because the best news in the world is hearing the nurse speak to me about the growth of our follicles, the reduction in meds, knowing that every day that passes we are one step closer.

We are getting closer.
I just wish it wasn't such a hike.

Thanks for reading. XO