Anyone who has struggled with infertility and gone through the gut wrenching process of treatments knows the feeling of constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.  With frequent moments of bad reports, negative tests, abnormal embryos, etc. it is hard to imagine a time when the bad news and fear for its delivery would go away.

An outsider might think once you get your positive pregnancy test the fears go away in an instant.  If you are part of this sisterhood you know that is not the case.  New fears set in, will this pregnancy be viable, will the baby be healthy and so on and so on.  In order to make it through the journey as sane as possible we all develop our own coping mechanisms.  For me, it was holding on to all of my infertility supplies.

After my first round of IVF I didn’t know where to dispose of my needles. I quickly got distracted with life and left them in my storage container in my armoire and forgot about them until my first round turned into my second.  There I was with two bio hazard containers full of needles.  They safely were tucked into their secret hiding place when my second round was complete.  Again, life got in the way and before I knew it I was on to round three. This was the first time the round resulted in an embryo transfer which meant more shots of progesterone every day.  Once the pregnancy test came back positive, the shots continued for several more weeks.  Three containers full of needles sat together.

Of course I was, as was my tush, relieved when I was done with the shots but the gnawing fear pulled at me and I just couldn’t bring myself to dispose of all the needles.  They were tucked away but were a daily mental and emotional reminder of what I had been through.  They also became a security blanket of sorts.  I convinced myself that if I threw them out something would go wrong with my pregnancy and I would have to do IVF all over again.

My husband and parents were supportive of my emotional good luck charm or crutch, depending on how you viewed it.  I promised I would dispose of them after the baby was born. A week after we were home and settled, my father reminded me of the promise I made to him to get rid of them.  I told him I was almost ready but not there yet. He was supportive and told me he would ask again in a few days, making sure I was comfortable with moving on.

I moved them from my bedroom to the kitchen counter, one step closer to the garbage.  It was a baby step, but still hard for me to let go of what I had gone through.  The infertility journey was such a huge part of what my life had been over the last two years.  How could I close the door on something that defined me for so long?

My mother made the next attempt at convincing me it was time.  As we sat together in my dining room, three generations, a family of strong women, fighters and survivors, I knew it was time. I fought a long and hard battle and not only survived, but I came out victorious.

While the infertility and IVF chapter of my story may be closed, it is one I will never forget.  There will always be a part of me that will forever be changed by my experience.  But my next chapter is one that I hope to relish in forever.  I am a Mommy.  I have a beautiful, healthy daughter who is just two days shy of being a month old.  When I close my eyes I see her face.  Needles made it possible for me to have her but their time is done in my home.

Thank you for your service.  You will not be forgotten.