My doctor perscribed ovidrel for each of my first three cycles. This is an injection one is supposed to self-administer at home.
I blogged about the first shot already. My wonder-twin Gwen (who is now pregnant) did it the first time. The second time, I had to administer it myself. Now, I’ve never been much of a needle fearer. Sure, I’ve been afraid, but once I realized that it just hurts for a few seconds, I got over it. I used to love donating blood in high school… save a life, get an excuse to leave class, get a little dizzy and eat free cookies! Fun needles. Giving the needle to myself, however, was an entirely different story. I don’t have any idea why. I guess it just felt so unnatural to hurt myself on purpose. When I gave the needle to myself, I was dizzy for about an hour afterward. I don’t know if or when I’m going to try that again.
My favorite Ovidrel shot was when I was in Wildwood. My mom’s long-time friend, who I’ll call Linda, was staying in our beach condo with us. She had previously had an illness that required her to self-administer injections, so she offered to give me the shot. She would be honored to give me the shot. In my psyche, Linda is the original earth mother. I’ve known her forever. She’s always been aware, nurturing, and — just earth mothery in her swishy skirts and her curly auburn hair. I was in a bit of a state. I had driven half of the 966 miles I eventually drove that week by going back to Manhattan for an ultrasound and an IUI. Linda brought me into one of the bedrooms. I was ready for a quick shot. No. It had to be thoughtful, present, purposeful. She said that first we had to recognize why we were doing the shot. We were doing the shot to welcome a new person into the world and into my family. “Do you know what this shot is going to do?” I said, “I don’t know how, but I know it will release the egg from my ovary.” “Let’s not focus on the part you don’t know. What you do know is that this will be a release. So let’s focus on the release.” Then we had to do some purposeful breathing. I was teetering between tears and giggles. I think a few tears escaped. When she finally got down to giving me the shot, she took a looooong-ass focused time pushing down that plunger. It really did feel like the begining of something.
Too bad it was the begining of the middle. Again. Every step gets me closer, though. Baby steps though they may be. Ha. Baby steps. I didn’t even mean that, but I guess that’s what they are.