This frozen transfer is so different from the others that it's easy to forget this is actually happening. Or, it was, until Dan starting giving me the deep muscle injections of progesterone this weekend.
The first injection was more painful than I remember. The injection spot has colorfully transformed in to a purple and blue blotch. But the pain every time I sit, lift my son, or do any activity is an oddly comforting reminder that we are really doing this.
We are doing this Friday!
There are bigger things happening in the world right now. In fact, today is Election Day. Which is why I'm awake at 6am and writing this blog. I can't sleep.
As a person who likes to know everything, I find this kind of "our country is hanging in the balance" uncertainty rather unnerving. I've spent the last few weeks pondering a lot about exactly what kind of country into which I'll be bringing this hopefully future but still imaginary child.
The answer: I don't know. But I'm an optimist. So I'd like to imagine that next year there could be a woman in the White House and another growing in my womb. I would like to imagine that the hate and ugliness we've seen will be erased and by this time next year it will be a distant memory as we all sit together, holding hands and singing “Kumbaya.”
I realize that is a fantasy. But as a woman going in to her third round of IVF, I have to believe in the impossible. I have to believe in good. I choose believe in us.
So go out there and rock your vote. And come Friday, I'll go in and rock this transfer. No matter how big of a pain in the ass it might be. It's worth it. Together, we will make it through this.