I went in on Saturday to have my ultrasound done. As I was going to sleep the night before, I was strangely nonchalant about the whole thing. I figured I would be so anxious that I wouldn't sleep for worrying. Have I mentioned that I am a WORLD CLASS worrier? Money, repairs, amount of sleep I get, the kids, you name it. If it can be worried about I do it. Drives T insane sometimes because we are COMPLETELY different in that department. I am high strung and he is laid back. As he always says, "I am like a willow...I bend with the wind." UH HUH. He also says that men are like fine wine, they get better with age so I take all of this with a grain of salt.
Anyway, I didn't really agonize over it the night before like I thought I would. I was more worried if I would get enough sleep since I had to get up early to drive down to Cincinnati to get to the doctor's office. See, worrier. Maybe I was more laid back about this because I had had a complete meltdown when I missed the FedEx delivery by just a few minutes that morning. The delivery was for my Ovidrel which I was suppose to have BEFORE I went for my ultrasound. Being Friday, there would be no Saturday delivery attempts. I freaked, I mean FREAKED, out. Poor T, he sure got an earful. But then, bless the FedEx delivery lady, she had seen a note I had placed on the door for our friend Todd who was going to be doing some work in our bathroom that day. It said I would be home at 9 am ( I had to drop my stepson M off at day camp) and to sign for me if the delivery came. Sadly, Todd's truck broke down on him and he didn't make it to the house that morning. This wonderful woman decided to swing by after she made some other deliveries in the area after her lunch to see if I might be home. So, I got my meds and practically fawned all over the poor woman in my gratitude.
Fast forward to Saturday morning and me rushing around the house to get ready to go to the appointment. Now, I don't know about other ladies but...when I have a doctor's appointment where I have to bare it all down there, I like to be groomed. I do not want to subject the poor doctor, tech or nurse to hairy ape legs, odors or force them to "part the curtain" to do what they need to do. Forgetting to do it the night before meant I had to get up earlier than expected. So, now I am worried about whether I will be late for the appointment. I have only once been to the doctor's office and that was with T driving and me navigating. Fortunately, I was only running about 10 minutes behind schedule, but, if you know me at all, you would know that this is upsetting to me. I am one of those obnoxious people that is ALWAYS early. If I am not at least 10-15 minutes early to whatever I have to be at, it makes me anxious. Probably some form of OCD.
So...at this point I have worried about just about everything from sleep deprivation to my hygiene EXCEPT the actual ultrasound and whether the Clomid has worked and I have any follicles. As I am pulling off the highway onto the exit ramp and congratulating myself on being so sanguine about this, I start crying. The flood gates open and I am absolutely, positively 100 % sure that there are going to be no follicles and everything is going to have been for nothing. I will find out, without my husband by my side (he had to work), that my ovaries will not produce follicles and egg donor will be our only option. Goodbye nonchalance, hello frantic crazy woman. At least I am by myself in the car and no one else witnesses this. I manage to get myself under control and only beg God a couple of times to let this have worked. By now, I am in the parking garage. My first stop before the doctor's office is the bathroom so I can try to repair the damage my crazy crying jag caused. Wouldn't do to have the staff and doctor see how irrational I really am.
Luckily, at least for my state of mind, I am actually 10 minutes early and composed when I walk in. I sit for just a few moments and have calmed down when the nurse calls me back. That's when the shakes hit. She leaves me in the room to undress and I am shaking so hard I can't get my pants unbuttoned. This, irrationally, causes me to start crying again. But, this time, I am able to get myself under control before it turns into another meltdown. By the time the doctor walks in, I am calm but secretly sure that he is going to be giving me bad news so I have to prepare myself. If just thinking about getting bad news sends me into hysterics, actually hearing it is going to be outrageous. At this point, I am really wishing T is here because he is a champ at calming me and soothing my frazzledness. Plus, the doctor wouldn't have to endure the torture of dealing with me when I have another meltdown.
He checks my right ovary and tells me that while it looks like I have a few follicles starting to develop, they are all too small and immature. UH OH...here we go..sniff sniff. He moves the wand over to check the left ovary. Bracing myself, he tells me right away that I have a follicle. In fact, I have two follicles. One is 18mm and the other is 13mm. Ridiculously, I find myself now starting to tear up over good news. I just can't win. He tells me that I need to trigger Sunday night with the Ovidrel, have intercourse that night and again on Tuesday. I am in shock. This was not the way I had been envisioning the visit and am drawing a blank slate. All I can do is nod and agree with him. The nurse tells me at checkout to trigger between 6 pm and 10 pm. I am in a daze as I walk out.
Of course, I call T as soon as I get in the car. As we bask in our delight that it actually worked to get me to ovulate for the first time in 6 months, it dawns on us that when I have to take my injection is right in the middle of my work day. UH OH. Now, if you have never heard of Ovidrel - the trigger shot - it is an injection that causes you to ovulate. By taking the injection, the medical people can pretty much say that within 24-48 hours, you will ovulate so make sure you have lots of sex at these preordained times we give you. Unfortunately, it is a shot that has to be given in your stomach. FRICK !!! Originally, I had planned to have my mother-in-law, a nurse, give me the shot. But now, that is not going to be possible because I will be at work. Yay, something new to worry about. There is no way in HELL I am going to be able to stick a needle in my stomach on my own so what are we going to do? T is morbidly afraid of needles so he is going to be of no help. He tells me he could do it but...I mean really, the guy hates needles. After multiple phone calls and pleas to friends, my partner at work agrees to give me the shot because he has experience. But, of course, now I am very anxious. Go figure.
The next day my worry and anxiety over this stupid shot continues to grow. After spending the previous evening obsessing over when exactly T and I should engage in our baby making activities, I narrow it down to *gasp* following the doctor's orders. Crazy, huh? I do decide, after frantically Googling it and asking advise on various fertility boards, that we need to try and procreate at the 36hr mark. If that's when they do insemination and IVF, that's when we will do the deed. Now, we have a 3 year old and my 8 year old stepson is with us for the summer. Doing "IT" isn't that easy. It's not like we can say, "Daddy and Mommy are going in the other room and locking the door. Don't come in no matter what you hear." Depending on when I take the shot, we would need to have sex between 6 am and 10 am. Since the kids get up between 7 and 8 am every day, anything after 7 is pretty much a crap shoot. I decided that 6:30 is the magic time. T is thrilled with this. How romantic...the alarm going off at 6:30 am on both of our day off so that we can wake up and frantically have sex to make a baby without waking up the other kids. Because, hey, if we can pull this off, we just might get to go back to sleep for another hour and 20 minutes...er..or so. Nothing like having fertility issues to really spice up the sex life, huh?
The time for the shot comes and I am very nervous. My partner tells me that he really thinks I can do this on my own and gives me a great pep talk. Perversely enough, I buy into his schtick and decide I CAN jab a needle into my stomach all by myself because I really am a strong woman. I really am an idiot. But, apparently he was right because, hey, I did it. Yay for me. I think I worried myself (surprising, huh?) into believing it was going to be worse than it turned out to be. It was surprisingly simple and fairly pain free.
Now, we just have to wake up with the alarm tomorrow at 6:30 am, frantically do our impression of bunnies without waking up the kids, and wait for two weeks to see if it worked. I see no anxiety or stress in this scenario. I doubt I will worry. OK, well, maybe just a little.