Why I don't have a fun IVF photo with all the needles from the shots...

I see these a lot and I often think that I wish I had one. It's such a clever way to show all the love, pain, and especially perseverance that goes into the IVF process.  But I will never have one.  I didn't save these things.  We received our prescriptions in the mail.  A huge, crazy expensive box of medications and syringes.  In that box came a red, plastic sharps bin for the used needles.   Every night, at 7pm, I would go upstairs, measure the injections and stab my belly.  A few days there were mornings, too.  And a few were the "butt" shots that hubster did (intramuscular rather than subcutaneous - so muscle not fat - and they were bigger).  I truly hope I never forget these things because all of these memories, the ups and the downs, are important to our adventure and brought our little girl into the world.  But I will not be able to commemorate it.  Because each time the medication cycle was over, I took my little red, plastic sharps bin to our next step.  My little way of symbolizing the end of the round.  When the rounds failed, I packed away everything else and got ready to start fresh.  While I still carried the grief as it compounded, I chose not to carry any tangible evidence of it.  So when my new box came, I'd set up my station again, a new start, until I was able to turn in the last sharps bin.  Someday, I may get another red, plastic bin and I'm sure I'll turn that one in when it's done, too.  But the count?  It's 166.  All the injections, the blood work...166 needles to equal one perfect little girl.  And I would have taken a thousand more.

What a difference a year makes...

Written 5/11/17

Facebook is exciting right now.  2 weeks ago, I was reminded of our transfer day.  Today, it's been one year since we received our first positive pregnancy test.  It's so easy to forget how long this road was when I look at her sweet, chubby-cheeked face.  We don't have any of those creative photos with all the spent needles and vials of meds.  I love the idea, but for me, those empties went after every failed cycle.  I dropped of my little red plastic medical waste bin after every cycle, like a symbol that the cycle was over and it was time to move forward.  Like closing that chapter and looking forward to the new one.  Of course, with her cycle, it was looking forward to her.

She's nearly 4 months old.  She's perfect. Ok, she's not a great eater, struggles to stay asleep by herself, and although she's not *supposed* to have the cognitive development to correlate cause and effect, I swear she does...namely, I cry and Mom picks me up (so I cry so Mom picks me up).  But she's perfect. I can't promise that I won't ever feel like throwing my hands up (like say when she's a three-nager throwing a tantrum because I've cut up her apple the way I always cut up her apple, which is particularly offending for some unknown reason on this particular day...), but I won't ever take her for granted. Some days, it's hard.  Breastfeeding is hard.  Finding child care is hard.  Scheduling, finding time to pump, pumping enough for her to eat, eating what I'm supposed to eat...and worst of all, leaving her to go to work.  I always thought I'd be a career woman, but now, I would quit in a second if it were really a possibility.  My only saving grace right now is that she loves the sitter's and doesn't really notice when I leave.  There are still days I cry when I drop her off.  Like every mom does, I feel guilty like I'm not giving enough to her and I'm not giving enough to work, or to friends, or the hubby, the dogs, the housework, the schoolwork...there are so many things and just one me.