I know…  I took a break from writing this blog.  Life caught up with me but I have thought a great deal about the stigma of infertility and am back (with a vengeance!) to do my part to remove it.

So as they say on two-part TV sitcoms “Last time on The Making of a Mommy…”

Feeling positive about my new doctor I was ready to begin the tests leading up to my first IVF cycle.  I had a saline sonogram to “check out the neighborhood” as I like to say and was thrilled to hear my uterus was the perfect place to live. Check!

Time for more of that infamous blood work; FSH, Progesterone, LSH, 123, ABC.  All looked good.  Check, check, check!

My company just switched to a new insurance and I was THRILLED to hear I had $10,000 lifetime for fertility treatments.  One less thing to worry about. Check!

Medications were ordered and I was watching my cycle for the green light to get started.  On a Saturday morning, FedEx arrived with a refrigerated box of needles and medication.  My husband opened the box and my heart started to race.  I couldn’t get over all the needles and medications…what had I gotten myself in to?

I reached out to my nurse and scheduled time to come in for an IVF tutorial to calm my fears.  For support, I brought my mother with me.  I know I have mentioned her before, but I have to say I could not have made it through any of this experience without her.  She has always been my biggest cheerleader and advocate and she most certainly did not let me down when I needed her most.

With my large plastic storage box in hand, my mother and I met with my saint-of-a-nurse, Ann.  We filled needles with water and practiced (on me!) until I felt confident in my sticking abilities.  I figured, if I want to be a mom, the least I could do is be tough enough to give myself a shot.  Right?

A few days later my period arrived.  Never had I ever been so excited to get my period.  It was go time! I came in for baseline monitoring and was told to start my meds the next day.

I woke up and practically skipped into the kitchen.  I took out my Follistim pen, loaded the medication in and did my first shot.  I have to say I was impressed with how well I did and how easy it was.  This was going to be a cake walk!

By the time 11am rolled around my head was about to explode.  No one warns you of the hormonal headache that comes with these meds.  Holy moly! I warned my team that I had started my treatment and might be a bit off and they helped me through the day.

I came home and Marc and I mixed our Menopur concoction for the evening portion of the event.  Again, not so bad.

Between the shots, the morning monitoring sessions containing ultrasounds and blood work, I was becoming a champ at this IVF stuff.  No sweat.

As the days went on, it appeared I had 7 follicles growing.  7 eggs.  7 chances.  I was excited. That was, in my mind, 7 months of trying in one shot! Not bad!

It was time for the famous “trigger shot” leading up to my egg retrieval 36 hours later.  Right smack in my tush.  I smiled as my body felt swollen from the medications and the growing follicles and began the 36 hour countdown.