One Down – Monday August 1st

I waited all day Friday and Saturday morning to hear from the company that would administer my progesterone shot. By noon on Saturday I was going through cycles of loud crying. I was supposed to meet with my book club at two, but by the time the final confirmation came that I’d be getting my shot at five, it was too late to make my meeting. So I cried again. When the nurse finally arrived I was back in the zone: I’m the patient who’s ever-so charming and easy going and you’ll have no idea that I’ve been crying and freaking out for the past 72 hours.

She totally fell for it.

The nurse had been kind enough to have me ice my butt so by the time she jabbed me with the longest, thickest needle I’ve ever seen my bun was frozen solid. I didn’t feel a thing. She stuck around for about an hour asking questions and monitoring my reaction to the shot- everything was good.

I guess the crying and keening was because I hate being reminded that this will be an uphill battle. And it’s not just my anatomical shortcomings, it’s the a-holes at the doctor’s office, my insurance company, the constant fear that I’ll bump into someone who says exactly the wrong thing. Or worse: I’ll bump into some one who hasn’t seen me since the last time I was pregnant. That’s a tough one. Them: “Hi! You’re pregnant again! How’s your other little one?” Me: “Oh he’s dead (or some slightly easier-to-swallow-version).

I know, I know, it could be worse. That’s the other challenge- trying to be nice to people who try and cheer me up. I’m not un-cheery, I’m just living the reality. Having people try and get me to look at the bright side just depresses me more, because it reminds me how lonely this whole process is.

The good news is we’re on a roll and as of Friday, I’m at the half-way mark. The bad news is that we’re on a roll and as of Friday, I’m at the half-way mark. This pregnancy is like a freight train- it’s either going to roll into the depot nice and easy or derail with a spectacular explosion.