Today is ‘FET Day 1’. That is Day 1 of our Frozen Embryo Transfer cycle. It is the last cycle before pregnancy. The Last Act. It is two weeks long. Two weeks from tomorrow, I will be ‘PUPO.’ That is Pregnant Until Proven Otherwise. Our embryo will be safely inside my body. Two weeks. My ultrasound technician this morning pointed out to us that we are just 2 ultrasounds away from pregnancy. I cannot escape the confidence in her statement. It seems out of place in a process fraught with setbacks, cancellations, and so many unforeseen barriers. I don’t know that I will truly believe that our embryo is being transferred into my body until our doctor shows it to me on the monitor. That will be my first genuine deep breath.
I have been giving myself Lupron injections in my stomach for 15 days. I have 15 left. I am no longer on any form of birth control. Today, I await my call to move forward with Estrogen patches and pills. Oh, Estrogen…how I have missed thee. Lupron alone makes me feel irritable all the time. And achy. My joints hurt around the clock. I can feel the unnatural state of my body and it is difficult to accept. Though temporary, it is a struggle for me to embrace the changes.
Fear has been creeping in more than usual lately. I find that sometimes my Lupron injections hurt and leave tiny star-like bruises. I have bounced the needle off of my skin accidentally and left vampire-like marks on my stomach. My hand shakes right before I pierce my skin as a natural sign to my brain that it is NOT NORMAL to inflict pain on one’s self. Wrestling with my mind and my body is a constant. I find myself desperately pleading with my body to obey the persistent assaults while convincing my mind that it is ok. Sometimes the duality of this process is too much for me and I can feel the need to float out of my body and into a different space. Lately, I pick a fight with my husband and ride the tears into that place where there is release. It is a place where I am completely raw and messy. There is no ‘keeping it together.’ No maintaining strength. I am just my feelings. Sometimes I forget about the time of day or what even was the catalyst for my breakdown. But I do resurface and find my way back to a steadier pace. Those steady moments seem fewer right now. I am much more easily knocked off balance.
Our air conditioner stopped working sometime in the 4 days that we were gone in the mountains for our annual family vacation this past weekend. This was not a scenario I could roll with. I tried. I am so hot all of the time right now because of the Lupron that an 82 degree house was worthy of a tantrum. And tantrum I did. I found myself sitting in one of our favorite Mexican restaurants for dinner that evening we returned. My husband sat across from me wide-eyed as he attempted to deal with the emotions of a hormonal, hot, woman…and our hungry 4-year-old daughter. I became an observer as I felt myself drift up and out of myself. I looked at our table of 4. We were always seated at tables for 4. And each time I see the empty chair I look away. But with the safety of my ‘observer’ status in this moment…I stared. I stared hard until the tears came. I hated that empty chair. Every table where the three of us come together as a family is a reminder that we are still waiting. There is still a missing piece. Will we ever feel complete? I am scared that we may always have to stare at an empty 4th chair. That empty chair is haunting to me.
And then there is a new fear. Pregnancy. I may actually end up pregnant after all of this. Yes, this has been the goal for years now. It is still terrifying for me. I remember how sick I felt with my daughter. That’s a variable I remember well. And then there are the newest elements…greater risk of miscarriage…progesterone shots in my backside for 12 weeks. It is a swarm of unknown possibilities that I cannot wrap my mind around. I keep trying to reach into that fear…to understand it, but the best I can do is remind myself that all I have to do is get through one day at a time. And keep hoping that one day there will be a tiny person in that 4th chair with blue-green eyes like our daughter’s. That is the dream that forces my faltering hand to continue to rise to the occasion each and every time.
*Today I am grateful for my family of 3. I know we are not complete, but I am grateful for everything we are. We love to laugh, explore, learn, and love each other exactly as we are.