Be Agressive...Be, Be Agressive!

Last month's events brought about a whirlwind of "a-ha" moments, opportunities for growth and time for reflection and giving thanks. I was able to conquer a few fears and resolve a few unanswered questions; giving myself the sense of freedom to move forward. Each success and achievement last month was another stepping stone established along my path; each stone leading me in the right direction and providing me with a solid foundation to support me in my next steps. 

What are my next steps? Onward! I've secured a sperm donor (once again) and I'm ready to move forward! After insemination #7 failed, I vowed to take more aggressive measures to getting pregnant. Natural and clomid-assisted IUI's were clearly not doing the job! I decided to kick it up a notch and try hormones again. This time however, I would not swallow a few pills for five days. Instead, I would give myself a nightly injection over the course of three weeks. Yikes!

These hormones, called gonadotropins, are used to purposely hyper stimulate the ovaries of women. Careful monitoring is necessary while undergoing injections, as gonadotropins may over stimulate the ovaries to release multiple eggs, giving rise to multiple gestations (twins, triplets, quadruplets, etc.). I would need to visit the doctor's office frequently so that ultrasounds may be performed to track follicle growth and egg development.
 
To prepare for the hormone treatment, Kaiser required me to make an appointment to learn how to administer the injections. Thankfully, I had already booked the appointment after insemination #7 (just in case). Coincidently (or not), the day of the appointment happened to be the day after "the talk" and the day I discovered 5696 was back on the market - how's that for timing?

The day of the appointment, I arrived promptly and waited patiently to be called into an exam room to learn from a nurse how to perform the injections. I was taken back however, when the nurse stepped into the waiting room, called my name and that of another woman sitting close by and directed us to follow her down the hallway. We entered into a small conference room, equipped with a whiteboard, chart paper on an easel, and several long tables pushed together, surrounded by swivel chairs. Odd, I thought.

At first glance, it looked as if the room had been set up for an exam of sorts - paper and writing utensils neatly organized on the table and adequately spaced apart between each seating position. When told by the nurse to find the packet with my name written upon it, I got a closer look and realized the items on the table were not test materials at all.

Resting upon the tables, before each neatly positioned chair, was a packet of information providing instructions and detailing the hormone treatment process. Just inches above the reading material, sat a square-packaged alcohol pad, a syringe about 3-4 inches in length and a small glass vial containing a clear liquid. I took my seat and instantly started to feel jittery with nerves. Oh gosh, what have I gotten myself into?

 The tall blonde woman who was also in the waiting room with me, sat to my left and we were told more women would be arriving shortly. As I looked around I counted six more stations set up, just like mine. Golly, this was not private lesson, this was a class! Eek!

 One by one, the women arrived, each apologizing for their tardiness. To the left of the tall blonde, also on my side of the table, was another blonde - rather "uppity" with her beige, ruffled blouse and silver flats - I'm guessing from Nob Hill or the Marina. Across from her, rested a well-rounded, short haired woman with a barbed wire tattoo wrapped around her left bicep. Next to her was a frail and lanky curly haired brunette with cat-eyed glasses and a busy top. At the head of the tables, sat two married couples - both of which I would never have matched up and paired together. As I am thinking to myself, oh how nice, husbands here to support and learn as well, I happen to glance around the room at the left ring finger of each woman and notice that each of them are wearing wedding bands. I am the lone ranger with a naked finger.

 Class is in session. The nurse, Yvette, takes her place at the head of the room and directs our attention to the whiteboard, where she has a route map and timeline of the hormone procedure. As she begins to explain each segment of the trip, I tally the days in my head and begin to think the process is longer than the 5-10 days my doctor had explained to me. Getting to the end of the road map on the board, Yvette confirms my suspicions and says that the whole process will last approximately three weeks.

 Oh no! I leave to Hawaii in two weeks! What will I do? As my brain explores every avenue - packing the hormones in a cooler, injecting myself while on vacation and visiting a Kaiser on the island - Yvette announces sternly, "...if you have a vacation planned in the next three weeks you should not start injections until you return." Boo. So much for my alternative plan. For the rest of the class I don't give up hope, and decide to talk with Yvette one on one after the class.

 After reviewing the packet of information, introducing the drugs and paraphernalia to us, and how to mix the drug with saline, Yvette tells us it is time to practice giving ourselves an injection. She first demonstrates on herself, and then asks the husbands to practice on their wives first, so they can leave the room to give the rest of us privacy. The husbands fumble with the syringe, take several attempts to find a firm hold on the fatty part of their wives' arms and inject their wives lovingly. One, who reminds me of a blonde mail-order Russian bride giggles the whole way through, while the other, a simple mid-western looking straight-haired brunette jitters with nerves and clenches her eyes and teeth shut.

 Once the husbands exit the room it is safe to expose our mid-drifts, the easiest area to administer the shot to ones’ self. Quickly the blonde from Nob Hill pops up out of her seat, pulls up her silk blouse and grabs the syringe. I understand why she is full of confidence and gung-ho when she announces to us that she has a beautiful 15 month old, born of the same process - on the first attempt. Oh wow, that's encouraging! She quickly and easily injects herself and says farewell, as she needs to leave early.

 Next to go is the plump, tattooed wife and I am thankful for this as we're moving in a clockwise direction. Had we moved counter-clockwise, I would have had to go third. One by one, the women stand up confidently, pull up their shirts and stick themself. They all do it so easily and show no fear or pain, yet I am still nervous and notice my leg is jostling up and down. I've never really had a problem with needles but it feels different now that I'm poking myself in place of a professional.

 All of the women on the opposite side of table have completed their task with flying colors and now it's time for the jittery wife from the mid-west to practice on herself. After a few deep breathes, she follows through, and says, "Oh my gosh, I can't believe I was stressing over that!" Ooh, another good sign, I think!

 I'm up next! Yikes! Despite paying close attention to Yvette's demonstration and even after watching six women before me, I am still doubtful with every step. As Yvette hovers over me and the other women look on, I remove the cap from the glass vial of saline (we’re just injecting ourselves with salt water for practice). Next, I remove both caps from the syringe, exposing the plunger on one end and the thin, silver needle on the opposite side. Inserting the needle end into the vial, I pull up on the plunger and withdraw the saline. After removing the needle from the vial, I inspect the solution for air bubbles. I give the side of the syringe a few good, professional flicks. I rest the syringe carefully on the table while I wipe a small portion of my belly with the alcohol swab. Pinching my belly fat with my left hand (attractive, I know) and holding the syringe with my right hand, I position the syringe at a 90 degree angle from my spare tire. Chanting over and over in my head, Yvette's words, "Straight in and straight out," I take a deep breathe, firmly plunge the syringe into my flesh, apply pressure on the plunger to release the solution and steadily remove the needle within seconds.

Done! Phew! I did it! So proud of myself! Small pinch, nothing more! The hardest part was getting over the idea of sticking my body with a needle. Before pulling my shirt down, several of the ladies comment on my tattoo and ask me to turn around to show it off. I realize then how ridiculous the last hour of nervous stress and energy has been - three non-stop hours of needles searing at my skin to create a work of art on my side, and I was wincing over a measly needle being injected into my fat for under 10 seconds? Geesh Tania, how silly of you!

 We all graduate the injection class with high marks. Our diploma, a red plastic needle depository with a swinging top, that reminds me of a mini trash can, awaits our pick up on the way out the door. I follow Yvette to her office to discuss my scheduling issue. Looking closer at the calendar, she confirms that the timing for this cycle is not good. I cannot start this month. My tone of voice clearly shows that I am let down and disappointed. Yvette suggests we look ahead to the next cycle.

 I tell her my return date from Hawaii. We count three weeks from my return date...shoot! It runs into my South America trip with Julie! Ugh! Don’t say I need to cancel my trip! I’m devastated.  I thank Yvette and head to the pharmacy to pick up my first batch of hormones (they'll hang out in the fridge until I'm ready for them).

 On the drive home, I'm sad, disappointed and not looking forward to telling Julie I need to cancel our trip. I go over and over in my head other options. When I get home I count and recount the dates in my calendar, hoping to find a mistake or a loop hole. Nothing. If I plan to do the injections, then I need to begin them when I return from Hawaii. If I were to wait until after returning from South America, the school year will have started and it would be too difficult to go to all the necessary doctor's visit during the work day.

 There is no other option. I need to start the injections when I return from Hawaii and I need to cancel my trip to South America. Thankfully I did not purchase my ticket yet. And thankfully, when I explained the situation to Julie, she was more than supportive and we've already planned an alternative trip! Yay!

 So, that's what's been going on! I leave to Hawaii in less than a week for some playtime. I need to start my injections on day #22 of my birth control pill cycle (I need to stay on the pills until I begin the injections). Day #22 will fall during the first week of August, which will grant me exactly three weeks before the start of the new school year. The timing will work out perfectly! Let's hope that getting pregnant this time around works out perfectly as well!