Let's Talk About my Privates!

But first, let's talk about my parents' visit. Because it was great. My dream of feeling miserable on the couch and being taken care of by my mom came true (complete with brown and orange blanket, which she brought from Iowa), and we stayed very busy with all manner of planning and preparation, including... wait for it... my first maternity clothes. Maybe to you this seems like no big thing, a pregnant woman buying maternity clothes, but to me it was huge. It was a public acceptance that all of this sticking my self with needles and getting intimately acquainted with the "dildo cam" might, at some point, have resulted in me being actually pregnant. And furthermore, that this pregnancy might do something CRAZY like continue, possibly even featuring a baby or two at the end. Again, if you have not struggled with month after month of dreams of having a family crashing down, the idea of getting pregnant, buying maternity clothes, and having a baby might not seem like the kind of thing that would inspire massive denial and pessimism. But to me, I think I may be standing at my childrens' high school graduation still not believing that I could have possibly ever gotten pregnant.

So it was great to be with my folks, who have never doubted that the IVF would work (what the heck else could happen?) and that this pregnancy would continue uncomplicated and result in happy healthy babies. I have to admit that there were moments (like in Babies.R.Us) when I felt like I was playing into the fantasy of  2 completely delusional people, but still it was fun. To think about real babies.

I felt a new dimension in my relationship with my mom, that's for sure. I always knew that there was a massive bond between women who have had kids, but, um, I have not really spent a lot of time trying to bond with other women, because generally I can't stand them, so it's not a connection I ever yearned for. But I was always aware of it. Never more so than 5 years ago at the birth of my nephew Jet. I will NEVER forget the moment he took his first breath, the moment that my mom and I saw him, and the distinct feeling at that moment that it was just my mom and my sister in the room. I was there, but I was suddenly a shadow. I was not someone who could possibly relate to the enormity of what had just happened. I was an aunt. Not a mom. I could not understand how they had suffered, how their hearts had been carried across the room by a nurse, because my heart had never left my body. At the time I just felt useless, like a fool. What advice could I give? What comfort? I have come to understand that there is a union between women who have had to endure the stress and passion involved in placing another soul on this earth. But even though I eventually understood it, I never thought I would be a part of it. It's another idea, like maternity clothes, that I will just have to get used to.

 

Now. On to my privates. Because I know you can't wait to hear about them. 

So since the embryo transfer, I have been on these progesterone suppositories. The first ones that I got from my RE were capsules. Like, with the plastic-y coating on the outside. Let me please tell you. Those things do not belong in your privates. But my Dr had other ideas, so I religiously shoved them up there, one each morning and night. The plastic coating probably dissolves beautifully in something like stomach acid, but it was very comfortable staying largely intact within my nether regions. The result was... well... have you ever seen a hamster shove his cheeks really full of those pellets? I think you know where I am going with this. To the point that I (WHO NEVER ask Doctors ANYTHING) actually e mailed my Dr and told him that I was really running out of space to cram these things and that some kind of shoe horn was about to be involved. He said "No, they dissolve slowly, it's what we want them to do, keep going." Oy. It got to the point that if I sneezed, three of them would shoot out like bbs. He insisted though, so I trucked on through weeks of that discomfort. 

Then... then I got referred out to my OB, who wanted me to stay on the progesterone. Hurrah. But, BUT, her pharmacy had a different deal. These are not plastic coated capsules, these are bullet-shaped cylinders of slime which must be refrigerated in order to maintain their shape. The GOOD news is, they sure do melt quick. The BAD news is, they sure do run down your leg when you least expect it. The first night, I must have gotten up 4 times because I was SURE something TERRIBLE was happening because STUFF was coming out of my CROTCH all night. Are you KIDDING me? I went from googling "Progesterone suppository won't dissolve" to googling "Progesterone suppository won't stop dripping" over night. Sigh. Guess I will stick with the crotch bullets until I hear otherwise from her. Why can't there be a middle ground?

Thus ends the writing about my privates for this evening. Go in peace.