A Year Ago...

On the morning of December 15th, 2009 I shakily handed DH a freshly peed upon pregnancy test and asked "Does this say what I think it says..." At which point he looked at it, and asked me back, "What is it supposed to look like?" And thus began the adventure which lasted 7 1/2 months instead of 9.

(In looking for posts on my thoughts following that day, I found this quote from the Jan. 21st post regarding my first OB office visit. "I'm not sure I want to drive forty-five minutes to an hour to a hospital when I'm in labor." Oh the irony! But my instincts were right - I DIDN'T want to drive that long while in labor. Good thing it was only like 30-35 minutes instead, right?)

One thing I have to admit, the extra drugs from that cycle - Menopur, Bravelle, and Lupron - are still sitting on the bottom shelf of my refrigerator. I COULDN'T get rid of them while I was pregnant. First, because of the awful thought that it might not last and then I would have them for another cycle, saving us $. And later, because, well, superstition kicked in. If I got rid of them, something bad might happen. Same goes for all the extra supplies from that and previous cycles. They are still sitting, along with a half-filled sharps container, in our bathroom closet. It's like a junkies dream supply cache. I know eventually I will have to toss them all, or, better yet, pass the supplies along to someone who can use them, but I'm not ready just yet. (Of course, the question remains whether we are going to go for number two or not, and if so, whether sooner or later; so....they might be sticking around for a while longer. Unless, you know, we just relax. Hah.)

I'm not usually a reflective person - just not my style - but this fall and early-winter have found me thinking more than usual about the prior year. Where I was in a cycle, what drugs I was on. The ups and downs were more so than any other year we had been trying. The fall started with, after so many failed cycles, finally getting a positive. But, whoops, it didn't advance past the first beta. Then a different chemical cocktail with which to convince my body to produce eggs in the multiples. Which it failed spectacularly to do, canceling the cycle. (We were at Lowe's when we got that call. I was skulking in the aisles around the bathroom since DH was, ahem, using the facilities, and made the snap decision without him to not undertake one more certain to be negative IUI.) Which brings us back to the first sentence of this post.

BUT even on the worst days I know I would do it all over again. Every shot, every blood draw (even the ones at 7AM on a Saturday or Sunday morning), every invasive procedure, and each and every failed cycle. She's worth it.