It’s day 5. I feel like a human pin cushion. I had my first official cry the whole car ride back from the doctor to the pharmacy. Maybe it was Pink Floyd on Morning Becomes Eclectic. Maybe it’s the hormones. Maybe it is because I now may not be able to go through with the procedure after today’s ultrasound.

I attended a funeral this week, tutored children, sent resumes out, and worked hard on various LaLaScoop business options. I realized a funeral can make you want to commit to something, to commit to a future with someone.

Each night at 10 PM, I have injected my belly fat with two shots without looking at the needle as I push in the hormones, trying not to faint. This procedure has actually been much easier than I thought. To thinking my life might slow down, it has not.

So far, the 300 units of Gonal F that is kept in the fridge and the 150 units of Menopur 2 have made me feel a bit tired and thirsty. The first night I woke up covered in sweat. The second night the second needle filled with Menopur (now the dreaded shot) wouldn’t take, so after the third try it finally pierced my skin and left me with a tiny bit of blood. The Menopur burns a bit.

I am trying to think of the larger picture. I realized after the second night I forgot to use the plastic cap that attaches to the top of the containers to mix the liquid solution with the two vials of powder (the dreaded Menopur), and therefore just used the needle solo to mix the liquid and suck up the hormone powder. No needle should be used for the mixing part. ugh. I also realized I better make sure the darn needles don’t have bubbles. I could never be a drug addict. I wish I had a nurse. Hugs, not drugs is becoming my new motto in my head. The third and fourth nights I was more cautious after watching the videos carefully.

Thank you to my longterm friends as well as recent friends calling and sending texts checking in to see how I’m doing. A couple friends even knew the time I was ‘shooting up’ and kept texting to make sure I was OK. This small act meant the world to me. Last night a friend offered to drive me to the procedure. I really appreciate the kindness.

Today I cried for maybe the loss of hope. I went in to get an ultrasound to see how my body was responding to the hormone injections. Am I making eggs? I feel like a chicken. I learned that I had 4 eggs growing and perhaps a couple smaller ones. Apparently someone my age will be lucky to get a whole 5 eggs to put on ice. But I remember learning 14 was the magic number (for someone my age) because some may not be healthy, a couple may not make it through the freezing process and even some could be fertilized with sperm I could pick from a register of males online.  Oh MY GOD! Thus, many people my age will go through this process or what they call a “cycle” three times. There are moments when this all feels overwhelming and I question whether I am making the right choice of even trying.

Today I cried because the doctor (Dr. Winkler) was frank and let me know that this was not the best news, so she would add a third shot for me to inject. She said I was responding to the drugs, but I would have to come back this Monday to determine if we should even bother to continue the process since it is a lot of money, which we had scheduled “my harvest” for next Friday. Thus far, I have already spent over $3,000 in just medicine. The third new shot called Ganirelix Acetate stops spontaneous ovulation from happening, so my follicles continue to grow.

I know a 36 year old friend who managed to freeze 7 eggs (which maybe could produce 1 baby), and another friend who did 4 cycles with several cycles only producing one egg, and one cycle producing 11 eggs with 7 eggs that were viable. I have heard stories of people who have tried to freeze their eggs, then became pregnant the normal way. I have heard beautiful adoption stories this week. Everyone seems to have a unique journey.

I sat in the waiting room of the Pacific Fertility Center this morning to learn this young woman across from me who was with her child had flown in from upstate New York to donate her eggs to a Danish couple who was also flying in, while the surrogate from the midwest was on her way. They were all meeting today. Wow. Then another lady to my left was hoping to freeze a healthy embryo because she had miscarried the last few times. All of this talk really got my head swimming on choices, possibilities, and the wave of the fertility future.

When you are young, you think it is so easy to get pregnant. So far now, I am just believing what will be will be, and there’s not much else I can do but give it this one shot (no pun intended).

For more tales, you may wish to read Eggs on Ice – Part 1 or the Voyage Vixen’s personal journey of freezing her eggs.