Approximately 27 days from now, the hubby will start poking me several times a day. No, we’re not doing THAT (you should know better). We’re starting our first cycle of In Vitro Fertilization.
Dunt dunt duhnnnnnn! (That was the big dramatic noise in movies, but typed. Kind of loses it’s punch, doesn’t it?)
We’re 1 year and 8 months into this baby-making ordeal. I can’t say I’m sad it’s taken this long. It’s given me that much more time to enjoy the married-no-kids life, which isn’t half bad. Still, I feel the need to let a small, pooping, screaming, unpredictable, demanding miniature human into the house, if for no reason other than so he/she will care for me when I am old and frail. Ha! I’m manufacturing a babysitter. It’s going to be awesome.
I’m not afraid of needles, which is good. My husband has gotten really good at giving me injections — also good. My friend Nell is a nurse anesthetist, and if she’s working the day of my egg retrieval, she’ll get to put me under and will be there the whole time to make me feel better — that’s super good. I’m not afraid.
Okay, I’m a little afraid. Of total failure. Maybe his swimmers will be completely stupid and won’t know how to swim inside the eggs. (Hmm… which makes me wonder if men can imbue their sperm with emotions. My husband doesn’t want kids, but he’s agreed to one because he knows it’s important to me… so maybe his sperm are unconsciously bending to his wishes?)
We get our injection training on the 22nd (apparently the IVF injections are different enough from the other ones we’d done that we need to pay for a whole ‘nother training session), and we’ll pick up our drugs. The spread of gear they’ll send us home with will be impressive. Don’t worry, I’ll take a picture so you can see how totally insane it is.
I guess this blog is a departure from my normal complaining about the world from a not-pregnant girl’s point of view. But this whole IVF thing has a freakishly high success rate, which means this might just be the thing that does it. And then I’m that much closer to the goal, which is still something that terrifies the crap out of me.
Do I really want a baby? No, not really. But I do want a child, specifically a child that’s part me and part my husband. And like many things in life, before you can run, you first must stand and walk. Except in this case, standing changes your entire life and walking deprives you of both sleep and money.
Oh well. Let’s do this.