Drugs Be Done

I finished taking all of my injections, pills and patches last Sunday. There was a little bit of internal angst with that. Though I HATED taking them, in some way, they made me think that the baby was safer. I had come so far in the last year and now, Max and Bob's baby was alive inside me. What if I stopped the drugs and the baby stopped living. I had already seen it moving. I know it's healthy. But, what if it's only healthy because it's being sustained by synthetic hormones?

I know that logic is crazy, yet, I'm also admittedly half-crazy on these hormones, so to me, it makes perfect sense. Honestly, I almost put extra progesterone inside of me on Sunday night, just as a little boost.

Monday morning, I had a blood draw to check my levels. Everyone at the PAML lab knows me quite well now and they know what I'm trying to do. I used to be such a needle-phobe, but now, it's nothing. We chit chat while I'm getting stuck with the needles and they ask how I'm doing and how Max and Bob are doing. We all know each other by name and I have my favorite phlebotomist. NEVER in my life would I expect to say, "She's my favorite phlebotomist."

The gal who drew my blood on Monday gave me a giant hematoma. She was not my favorite phlebotomist.

Once again, I began the waiting game. WE began the waiting game. Though Max is 250 miles away, on blood draw days, it seems like he's right here. I get calls and texts throughout the day. "How are you feeling? Have you heard anything from Seattle Reproductive? Do you feel any different?" God love him for being concerned. He's like a paranoid mother hen. I made the mistake of telling him the other day when he called that I was feeling a little crampy. I probably got five texts "checking in," one of which was to find out if maybe I didn't just need to "take a poop" and the other to ask "if [I] had pooped yet." I think I'll text him out of the blue when I'm done with this and just say, "I pooped."

But I digress...

And so I waited for the call from Seattle Reproductive to tell me that my blood hormone levels looked good and that I could confidently move into the next seven months knowing I'd done my hard time and was an honorable and loyal hormone junkie. When I hadn't heard by 3:00PM, I called and left a message with our gestational coordinator. "Hey Lindsay, it's Carrie. Just calling to see if you've received my blood results back yet. Call me when you know something."

About fifteen minutes later, my phone rang. It was Max.

"Hellllooooo?"

"Hey," he said. "Did Lindsay call you?"

"No. Not yet. I haven't heard anything."

"OK well, I just got off the phone with her. They want you to do the shots for another two to three weeks."

I felt like someone stabbed me. I thought, "Oh God. I gotta get home and get a shot right now." I was scared that the baby might need it right away. I felt like I was going to cry and throw up. I was literally sick in an instant thinking about the torture of shooting that God-forsaken syrup into my ass for three more weeks. As it is, it hurts to sit and walk and I can't have any pressure on my butt at all. It's so tender and sore and just plain abused. Oh God! Not more. I can't handle this!

"What?" I said. "Why?" Desperate panic settling into my voice.

"No. I'm just kidding," Max said. "You're fine. You're done. Your levels looked great."

I couldn't even be relieved or happy at that moment. I was in the midst of the biggest emotional swing I'd felt in a long time. Silence.

"Sorry. That wasn't a funny joke. Bob said I should do it, but I thought against it at first."

"Um...I'm still a little pissed at you right now. You should go with your instincts from now on. Do me a favor and punch Bob in the balls."

"I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have."

"K. Well, I gotta go."

I know he felt guilty, as he was trying to make a funny and now that I'm three days off the hormones, I think I might be lightening up a little bit. It's still hard to believe that I never have to do that again. It was such a huge part of my life last year.

I'm really looking forward to getting reacquainted with the girl I used to be pre-synthetic hormones. I hope she's still in here and that she didn't drown in the pool of lady hormones that is my body. For all the darkness that was the in-vitro drug process, there is a light in this abyss.

Turns out, this baby doesn't need drugs to survive. All it needs now, is me.