It's been about two weeks since I've blogged and oh what a two weeks they've been. I started the first of my meds - Lupron - which is a subcutaneous shot done every evening. My husband has been graciously stabbing me in the stomach every night since Tuesday Sept. 13. Now that I'm doing it, the shots aren't so bad; but I was an emotional wreck the weekend prior. I got this good sized box in the mail with a mini-cooler in it with a vial of Lupron, a bunch of alcohol pads and a box of syringes. Thank God this has been a fast process because I don't know if I could have lasted much longer.
On the bright side, I haven't had many side effects. I wasn't sure what would happen to me or my body, but it hasn't been that bad. The worst thing is that the hormones seem to have me suspended in the worst part of my normal cycle - where I get migraines - and I'm not allowed to take Advil, which is my go-to drug. I was told on Tuesday that I can take Imitrex, which I was grateful to know since I got another migraine last night (Wed) but then wished I hadn't known because I felt absolutely miserable. Let's just say the migraine would have been a step up in the area of discomfort.
Aside from that, I've just been itchy. Not terribly itchy, but I'll find myself scratching my palms or wrist area, or the bottoms of my feet will drive me nuts. This is weird because I haven't found anything or anyone (including a pharmacist) who has found that as a side effect. It has continued now that I've started the Ghonal, but I didn't think much of it until today when I got an email from my boss that our campus has had an outbreak of Scabies. And what, you ask, is the primary indicator of Scabies? Itching! So I looked into that and I'm about 99% sure that my itching is unrelated and that I don't have little mites under my skin. Ewww! But seriously, what are the odds?!
But I've been trying to stay positive. It comes and goes. I wish I could say I'm happy all the time, but honestly, I think I'm pissed off more than anything. It may just be hormones, but I hate being angry all of the time. I want to be happy and optimistic, but that so often seems out of reach. Last weekend we did go look at a new baby store in town and it was fun to think of the possibilities. It is easy to get wrapped up in the procedures and forget why we're doing this, but the end result is scary, too, especially when we learned we have a 25% chance of twins since my body is in good shape fertility-wise. Ahh!
We've also told more people than we originally intended. I guess this is just a hard thing to keep quiet. It becomes such a part of your day-to-day life. Hopefully everything will work out for the best and we'll be confirming happy news instead of reporting to a dozen people why we're not pregnant. But it's weird that, no matter how many people we tell, I don't feel any more supported. Neither of my two closest friends have been checking in on me with any sense of regularity. In fact, I've gotten maybe one text from each of them since my first appointment nine days ago. And the other friends, I really only talk to when they're over. So, despite people knowing, support is low. My sister has been good at finding time to call and text, and my mom is always eager for an update, but doesn't want to bother me by calling. Apparently no one understands that I'd like for it to seem like people care. I'm not psychic. I don't know that you're thinking about me and I often feel alone in this process. My husband has been great, but it's not his body so it's not as constant for him. He can step away from it when he wants to, but I can't.
I don't want to dwell or harp or bitch, but this process can be overwhelming. If I was just doing this, it would be one thing, but I'm teaching four classes and am up by 6:30 am every morning. And I come home with lots of work - planning, essay-reading, grading - not to mention normal house work. Now I learn that I'm only going to know 36 hours in advance when my procedure is going to be and it will require me to take a day off. Taking a day off means planning ahead and having a sub lined up... but how do you line up a sub when you don't know what day you need him/her? My boss also doesn't know about this, so at what point do I tell her? And how much do I share? It's a lot to have on your mind at once and when I really think about it, I feel that panic set in and I don't know what to do. I don't think I've ever felt so much anxiety or felt so helpless and I didn't fully realize it until now. People say that the IVF process is stressful and that it's a roller coaster of emotion, but I've felt pretty good. I'm not on a ton of drugs and I haven't felt that abnormal. But when I sit down like to this to reflect, I realize that I have been stressed. I have been on a roller coaster. I suppose it's to be expected, but this is one ride I'll be glad I got on, but I'll be even happier to get off.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Deep Breaths
In the past two weeks, I have visited the ER for blood work, had a vaginal ultrasound, taken medications, had an X-Ray of my uterus, and consulted with my fertility doctor about our IVF schedule. Today, I received my temperature controlled box of medication and syringes. And in the next three weeks I will have my blood drawn at least three times and have a minimum of two doctor's appointments. And in that fourth week? That's when IVF will occur. Needless to say, I'm feeling a little anxious.
With this last visit, I received a lot of information, but one specific sheet was about stress. It said that women preparing to undergo IVF often have the same stress levels of a person undergoing treatment for a terminal illness. This is not comforting, but it is reassuring that I'm not going nuts. Yesterday, I was nauseous from the time of our appointment until I went to sleep. I kept sighing every 5-10 minutes. I took a lot of deep breaths. But right before I went to bed, I asked myself, "why are you so stressed out?" I couldn't really answer. For many women, the procedures themselves are the scary part. So many people don't like doctors and hospitals that the thought of blood being taken or going in for outpatient surgery sends them through the roof. But I'm not that way. It's not that I enjoy having medical work done, but I don't dread it, either. Is it the shots? Perhaps. I have to say the prospect of stabbing myself in the stomach every day for a while, and then twice a day for a while after that, does not leave me with a warm fuzzy feeling. But I'm sure once I've done it once or twice, the fear of the unknown will vanish and it will become just another minor procedure. Perhaps it's impending parenthood and the stresses of actually being pregnant. That is something that seems daunting, too. I guess the bottom line is that I'm scared of the unknown.
So how do I relieve that stress? How do I make myself not anxious or afraid of what's ahead? I am not generally an anxious person, but this is different. But I am also told that I need to minimize stress during all of this. Easy for them to say! They're not teaching four eight-week classes and having people shove stuff into veins and orifices every few days! They say communication, yoga, and deep breathing will help. But I'm doing these things and my stomach still feels like a tight ball in my torso. I now have a box of needles and a vial of medication in my refrigerator, which I'm going to see every day when I open up the door to get a snack. But I don't even have to open the door to be reminded of this. I have paperwork to sign, tests to take, reminders on my phone... not to mention dietary restrictions and the changes that are already going on in my body. I want to be excited about this - the process and the intended result. I've written about keeping an emotional buffer, but we've talked about the need to be excited. To not expect the worse and celebrate the possibilities. But I don't even know how to do that! I bought a really cool book called The Pregnant Body, which I've been reading. But in my head, the only real thing is the next step, whether it's the meds, an appointment or a procedure. And then there is work... and time off in week four... and...
How do you turn off your brain and just do what needs to be done? My husband has been great thus far and he wants to be my "rock," so that when I feel lost or confused (or name any other love song cliche) I can (wait for it) lean on him. This is great, but sometimes it makes him seem detached. Perhaps he is detached. I mean, it's not his body. He may have to help give me shots, but they're not going in his belly. His hormones aren't going to go crazy. He's not going to get morning sickness or watch his belly grow exponentially!
But I want to be happy about all of this. And I think I am, beneath all of the panic. I want my friends (those who we've told) to be excited, and they probably are beneath the distractions of their own lives. I want to accept that this is happening - that we have chosen it (and are paying a lot for this choice) - and enjoy it through all of it's stages. Maybe if I keep writing, saying, and thinking this mantra, it will be true. And in between the mantra? Lots of deep breaths.
With this last visit, I received a lot of information, but one specific sheet was about stress. It said that women preparing to undergo IVF often have the same stress levels of a person undergoing treatment for a terminal illness. This is not comforting, but it is reassuring that I'm not going nuts. Yesterday, I was nauseous from the time of our appointment until I went to sleep. I kept sighing every 5-10 minutes. I took a lot of deep breaths. But right before I went to bed, I asked myself, "why are you so stressed out?" I couldn't really answer. For many women, the procedures themselves are the scary part. So many people don't like doctors and hospitals that the thought of blood being taken or going in for outpatient surgery sends them through the roof. But I'm not that way. It's not that I enjoy having medical work done, but I don't dread it, either. Is it the shots? Perhaps. I have to say the prospect of stabbing myself in the stomach every day for a while, and then twice a day for a while after that, does not leave me with a warm fuzzy feeling. But I'm sure once I've done it once or twice, the fear of the unknown will vanish and it will become just another minor procedure. Perhaps it's impending parenthood and the stresses of actually being pregnant. That is something that seems daunting, too. I guess the bottom line is that I'm scared of the unknown.
So how do I relieve that stress? How do I make myself not anxious or afraid of what's ahead? I am not generally an anxious person, but this is different. But I am also told that I need to minimize stress during all of this. Easy for them to say! They're not teaching four eight-week classes and having people shove stuff into veins and orifices every few days! They say communication, yoga, and deep breathing will help. But I'm doing these things and my stomach still feels like a tight ball in my torso. I now have a box of needles and a vial of medication in my refrigerator, which I'm going to see every day when I open up the door to get a snack. But I don't even have to open the door to be reminded of this. I have paperwork to sign, tests to take, reminders on my phone... not to mention dietary restrictions and the changes that are already going on in my body. I want to be excited about this - the process and the intended result. I've written about keeping an emotional buffer, but we've talked about the need to be excited. To not expect the worse and celebrate the possibilities. But I don't even know how to do that! I bought a really cool book called The Pregnant Body, which I've been reading. But in my head, the only real thing is the next step, whether it's the meds, an appointment or a procedure. And then there is work... and time off in week four... and...
How do you turn off your brain and just do what needs to be done? My husband has been great thus far and he wants to be my "rock," so that when I feel lost or confused (or name any other love song cliche) I can (wait for it) lean on him. This is great, but sometimes it makes him seem detached. Perhaps he is detached. I mean, it's not his body. He may have to help give me shots, but they're not going in his belly. His hormones aren't going to go crazy. He's not going to get morning sickness or watch his belly grow exponentially!
But I want to be happy about all of this. And I think I am, beneath all of the panic. I want my friends (those who we've told) to be excited, and they probably are beneath the distractions of their own lives. I want to accept that this is happening - that we have chosen it (and are paying a lot for this choice) - and enjoy it through all of it's stages. Maybe if I keep writing, saying, and thinking this mantra, it will be true. And in between the mantra? Lots of deep breaths.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Moving Forward
Things have been moving pretty quickly around here, both in the fertility world and my professional world. We started a new teaching session, which included a fourth class I wasn't previously aware of (which I've never taught, by the way). So things have been a bit overwhelming. On the fertility side, I started my cycle on Friday, which meant I had to visit the ER for blood work on Sunday. This was unfortunate for several reasons, the largest being financial. I was warned that ERs often don't run the lab work through your insurance and instead charge you the full amount and leave the rest up to you. And this is exactly what happened. Luckily, the warning prepared me so that I didn't try to rip someone's head off when I was told to pay $563.72. I simply smiled, handed the guy my card and went on to have my blood drawn. However, when I went to my ultrasound, the employees at the specialist's office were appalled. I'm am, hence, in the process of getting the necessary information in order to get a reimbursement.
The rest of the ultrasound appointment was, however, good news. We think that my side of the fertility game is okay, but we don't know it. This started to confirm our hopes. When I first met with the specialist, he said they harvest all of the viable eggs when the time comes, and that number is generally around fifteen. So when the nurse who was counting my follicles moved into double digits on just one ovary, I was feeling pretty good. My total ended up around thirty, which is (from what I am told) a pretty high number. But follicles don't necessarily mean good eggs. They just mean the possibility of good eggs. I have an X-ray scheduled for next Tuesday to see if the rest of my system looks as good as my initial ultrasound. Then, we meet with the specialist again the following Friday and, if all looks good, we proceed with the IVF. That means that we could be pregnant by the end of September! That is so so so crazy!
It's hard to know how to feel about all of this. Things look good, which is very encouraging; but it's easy to get lost in the medical side of everything and to forget the end goal. Sometimes I even have a hard time saying the word "baby" out loud. It is something I want (most of the time), but it still scares me to think of it as a reality. Just thinking about the next appointment, the next test, and what our options are makes the entire thing more logical and I remain more detached. And in some ways that is a good thing. Despite the time, effort and money, nothing is guaranteed to us. This makes some amount of detachment healthy, right? I don't want to be so wrapped up in the idea of becoming a mother that I am completely crushed if things don't work out, which I've seen both with people undergoing IVF and the normal pregnancy process. But at what point does the detachment become a problem? When does it stop being a healthy sense of protection and move into denial or the ignoring of reality? Should I think about fun things like baby names and nursery decor or will that leave me too vulnerable for disappointment? I don't know, but I wish I did. For now, I think I'll stick with detachment but dabble a little in dreaming for the future. Hopefully, this will allow me to find a decent balance and, of course, we hope it will all end in good tears.
The rest of the ultrasound appointment was, however, good news. We think that my side of the fertility game is okay, but we don't know it. This started to confirm our hopes. When I first met with the specialist, he said they harvest all of the viable eggs when the time comes, and that number is generally around fifteen. So when the nurse who was counting my follicles moved into double digits on just one ovary, I was feeling pretty good. My total ended up around thirty, which is (from what I am told) a pretty high number. But follicles don't necessarily mean good eggs. They just mean the possibility of good eggs. I have an X-ray scheduled for next Tuesday to see if the rest of my system looks as good as my initial ultrasound. Then, we meet with the specialist again the following Friday and, if all looks good, we proceed with the IVF. That means that we could be pregnant by the end of September! That is so so so crazy!
It's hard to know how to feel about all of this. Things look good, which is very encouraging; but it's easy to get lost in the medical side of everything and to forget the end goal. Sometimes I even have a hard time saying the word "baby" out loud. It is something I want (most of the time), but it still scares me to think of it as a reality. Just thinking about the next appointment, the next test, and what our options are makes the entire thing more logical and I remain more detached. And in some ways that is a good thing. Despite the time, effort and money, nothing is guaranteed to us. This makes some amount of detachment healthy, right? I don't want to be so wrapped up in the idea of becoming a mother that I am completely crushed if things don't work out, which I've seen both with people undergoing IVF and the normal pregnancy process. But at what point does the detachment become a problem? When does it stop being a healthy sense of protection and move into denial or the ignoring of reality? Should I think about fun things like baby names and nursery decor or will that leave me too vulnerable for disappointment? I don't know, but I wish I did. For now, I think I'll stick with detachment but dabble a little in dreaming for the future. Hopefully, this will allow me to find a decent balance and, of course, we hope it will all end in good tears.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Ch-ch-ch-Changes
I'm not a control freak, but I do a lot of mental planning and I'll admit that a lot of my moodiness is a direct result of mental plans gone awry. Well, I had a more-than-mental plan. I knew how many classes I would be teaching during the next eight weeks and, although it was a little daunting, I was able to mentally juggle the start of my cycle, the driving back and forth to the specialist, the extra workload (I was taking on an extra class for a little pay boost) and normal spousal and household chores. Then, I started spotting and I got nervous. But I recovered... for the most part. But today I was told that I had been assigned an additional class and that this had happened a while ago, but somehow was never communicated to me. This class means extra hours and lunch away from home two days a week. It's not a big deal, but it's more than I was mentally prepared for. But then tonight I was told that, in addition to this being a fourth class and a class I haven't taught before, there may be nine students video conferencing their way into my classroom from another campus each week. Now I'm responsible for two classes worth of students, for a class I've never taught... and I'm going to be on video. This is not what I signed up for. I'll make it work - I always do - but right now I'm feeling very panicky and overwhelmed. I desperately want for my cycle to start so that I can at least know time frames for upcoming procedures. I feel so out of control. It's not like the entire IFV process wasn't taking the control away from me before. Now my professional life is going haywire. I know it will work out in the end, but in this moment I can't see the path. All I see are obstacles and detours and lots of essays to grade. Right now, I am not looking forward to this.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
The Deep End
With treatment ever nearing, money has been on my mind. Well, it's been on both of our minds, really. We have a pretty good system in place for the IVF procedures, but we currently have debt, so things compound and leave a bleak fiscal future. Luckily, we both have stable full time work that pays well, but our current debt plus the $11,000-$15,000 price tag for medical stuff (not to mention normal pregnancy and baby stuff should everything go as planned) makes everything a little daunting. But today, I was incredibly optimistic. I wanted to be productive and was productive. I listed some stuff to sell online and got a bunch of chores done around the house. Hopefully, some of that will pay off, but we'll have to wait and see. I'm still optimistic, even about the money, but I think my husband feels the weight a little more heavily. I hope things fall into place so that we can be reassured that we can truly handle this financially.
Then, to further emphasize all of the seesawing emotions as of late, I began spotting today. (I know. It's not something I would normally write about, but you can't really shy away from menstruation when you're writing about fertility.) Now, my cycle is and has always been pretty abnormal, so this could just be the very early signs of things to come, things which might not come for another week or longer, but it was still a wake-up call. This is really happening. We are really making this decision.
It's weird how cerebral the process becomes when it can't happen naturally. For many couples, there is one night of passion perhaps fueled by the idea of becoming a family and then boom, you're pregnant. Barring some sort of intervention, there is no turning back. Not so for us. We got the first step - the passion and idea (which was really more panic-stricken for me, if I'm truly honest). Then, we had the belabored steps of testing, waiting, testing, waiting, more testing, more waiting, and then options. Then, there was the appointment with the specialist. This was more serious, but it was still a choice. Now I know the plan, but it's not fully in motion yet. I got the meds in anticipation, but this could stop at any moment. We could weigh the options (and we have) and decide it's not worth the costs. Passion comes and goes. Sometimes, I'm 100% sure. Other times, I think we're nuts. But every time, I've come back to this as the right decision. But that's it... it is a decision and it's one we are making over and over again.
Sometimes I wish for that boom and your committed sort of thing. In many ways, it would be so much easier. But this way almost seems more natural for us. My husband and I are very logical people. We think through options. We plan finances. We muse over gifts, friends, patio furniture... whatever decision is currently on the horizon. It seems almost apropos that we had to make the decision to procreate in this way. And since we have both come very slowly into this idea of wanting to be parents, I think it's given us good time to adjust. I used to have short bursts of panic any time my husband would talk about making a baby. I'm sure for some women, that's great foreplay. Not for me! It was like a big red STOP button. But now, I feel more certain of the decision. It's less the novelty of parenthood - decorating the nursery, picking a name, getting to eat more than I should without being ridiculed, getting cute pregnancy clothes (because they are cute now, thank God). Now it's more of the long-term decisions. The desire to be good parents and grow up a well rounded kid (or kids). And aren't those better reasons to venture into parenthood? We would have gotten there eventually, even with a quick natural conception, but I think I needed to baby-step (no pun intended) into this whole "I'm gonna be a mommy" thing. But now we're out of the kiddie pool and getting to the edge of the diving board. My toes are curled over the end and I'm peering cautiously into the waters of the deep end. There is that sense of excitement - that desire to jump headlong into the sparkling waters. To feel the cool rush of wind, then water. To know the exhilaration of the moment. But there's still that underlying fear. The "what if" and the thought of dark and scary things lurking beneath the drain. But as a kid, I always jumped. I fought the fear of that dark speck, the fear of falling, of helplessness. I always jumped... and I was always glad I did. I suppose I should, as an adult, have at least the amount of courage I had as a kid. So... here goes.
Then, to further emphasize all of the seesawing emotions as of late, I began spotting today. (I know. It's not something I would normally write about, but you can't really shy away from menstruation when you're writing about fertility.) Now, my cycle is and has always been pretty abnormal, so this could just be the very early signs of things to come, things which might not come for another week or longer, but it was still a wake-up call. This is really happening. We are really making this decision.
It's weird how cerebral the process becomes when it can't happen naturally. For many couples, there is one night of passion perhaps fueled by the idea of becoming a family and then boom, you're pregnant. Barring some sort of intervention, there is no turning back. Not so for us. We got the first step - the passion and idea (which was really more panic-stricken for me, if I'm truly honest). Then, we had the belabored steps of testing, waiting, testing, waiting, more testing, more waiting, and then options. Then, there was the appointment with the specialist. This was more serious, but it was still a choice. Now I know the plan, but it's not fully in motion yet. I got the meds in anticipation, but this could stop at any moment. We could weigh the options (and we have) and decide it's not worth the costs. Passion comes and goes. Sometimes, I'm 100% sure. Other times, I think we're nuts. But every time, I've come back to this as the right decision. But that's it... it is a decision and it's one we are making over and over again.
Sometimes I wish for that boom and your committed sort of thing. In many ways, it would be so much easier. But this way almost seems more natural for us. My husband and I are very logical people. We think through options. We plan finances. We muse over gifts, friends, patio furniture... whatever decision is currently on the horizon. It seems almost apropos that we had to make the decision to procreate in this way. And since we have both come very slowly into this idea of wanting to be parents, I think it's given us good time to adjust. I used to have short bursts of panic any time my husband would talk about making a baby. I'm sure for some women, that's great foreplay. Not for me! It was like a big red STOP button. But now, I feel more certain of the decision. It's less the novelty of parenthood - decorating the nursery, picking a name, getting to eat more than I should without being ridiculed, getting cute pregnancy clothes (because they are cute now, thank God). Now it's more of the long-term decisions. The desire to be good parents and grow up a well rounded kid (or kids). And aren't those better reasons to venture into parenthood? We would have gotten there eventually, even with a quick natural conception, but I think I needed to baby-step (no pun intended) into this whole "I'm gonna be a mommy" thing. But now we're out of the kiddie pool and getting to the edge of the diving board. My toes are curled over the end and I'm peering cautiously into the waters of the deep end. There is that sense of excitement - that desire to jump headlong into the sparkling waters. To feel the cool rush of wind, then water. To know the exhilaration of the moment. But there's still that underlying fear. The "what if" and the thought of dark and scary things lurking beneath the drain. But as a kid, I always jumped. I fought the fear of that dark speck, the fear of falling, of helplessness. I always jumped... and I was always glad I did. I suppose I should, as an adult, have at least the amount of courage I had as a kid. So... here goes.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Change
This entire process is so surreal... and it's making me feel a bit bipolar. I haven't even started, well, anything yet and I find myself moving from one end of the emotional spectrum to the next each and every day. On Wed, I woke up feeling pretty good, but found myself on the verge of tears reading birthday cards for my sister. Talk about a walking cliche! And this is me WITHOUT the hormone treatment! My God, how will I be in a few weeks? And today, I've been thinking about how I'd love to just start my period so we could get into the process, but now just lying on the couch I started to panic. I've never had any issues with anxiety, but I could feel it rising in my body - from my stomach to my chest - and my heart began to race. Ugh! But I'm feeling better now. It's amazing how cathartic writing can be.
It's so weird to want something you have never wanted before. I think that's at the root of this. I am so accustomed to not wanting a child that I can't convince myself of our current path all of the time. Sometimes that other part of me comes through and I panic. Our lives are good right now. We have a routine. Our marriage is good. Why add something to complicate it? But them again, why not spice it up? Why not bring someone else into something good, especially when kids are exposed to so much hardship these days? That brings me comfort. I know we're making the right choice, but it's such a big choice. Sometimes I simply have to remind myself that it IS a good choice.
It's so weird to want something you have never wanted before. I think that's at the root of this. I am so accustomed to not wanting a child that I can't convince myself of our current path all of the time. Sometimes that other part of me comes through and I panic. Our lives are good right now. We have a routine. Our marriage is good. Why add something to complicate it? But them again, why not spice it up? Why not bring someone else into something good, especially when kids are exposed to so much hardship these days? That brings me comfort. I know we're making the right choice, but it's such a big choice. Sometimes I simply have to remind myself that it IS a good choice.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Support & Fading Optimism
Tuesday simply flew by. It is only now, at 12:30 am on Wed., that I find myself taking time to blog. It's been a good day, but busy. I suppose that is a good thing, though. When I'm busy, I can't dwell things - either the good or the bad.
I did get to share my story with my best friend, though. For other reasons, it had been several weeks since we had spoken and I preferred to share our news face-to-face since she lives so near to us. Unlike my sister, whose first response was to make sure I was certain of our decision (in a loving way), my best friend simply hugged me and asked for the details. I suppose that's what sisters and best friends are supposed to do, right? The sister is there to first make sure you're not jumping into anything and then be your support. The best friend is just there when you need her. I found both to be comforting.
Our conversation did, however, make me a little more leery of the upcoming hormone treatments I know I'll have to begin in a matter of weeks. I suppose I've looked upon them with optimistic naivete, but now they seem more ominous - more looming. It won't deter me from the process, but the reality is ever so slowly creeping into my consciousness. But I suppose that's a good thing, too. It's better not to go into the process all smiles and optimism only to be confronted by wildly fluctuating hormones and miscellaneous side effects. And if I am granted a relatively pain and roller coaster free experience? Then I can only be pleasantly relieved.
Here's to more waiting!
I did get to share my story with my best friend, though. For other reasons, it had been several weeks since we had spoken and I preferred to share our news face-to-face since she lives so near to us. Unlike my sister, whose first response was to make sure I was certain of our decision (in a loving way), my best friend simply hugged me and asked for the details. I suppose that's what sisters and best friends are supposed to do, right? The sister is there to first make sure you're not jumping into anything and then be your support. The best friend is just there when you need her. I found both to be comforting.
Our conversation did, however, make me a little more leery of the upcoming hormone treatments I know I'll have to begin in a matter of weeks. I suppose I've looked upon them with optimistic naivete, but now they seem more ominous - more looming. It won't deter me from the process, but the reality is ever so slowly creeping into my consciousness. But I suppose that's a good thing, too. It's better not to go into the process all smiles and optimism only to be confronted by wildly fluctuating hormones and miscellaneous side effects. And if I am granted a relatively pain and roller coaster free experience? Then I can only be pleasantly relieved.
Here's to more waiting!
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