wow, i guess it really has been a while since i’ve been here – wordpress changed everything around while i was gone.  let that be a lesson to me.

i have tons of posts in drafts and in my head and on scraps of paper, but the thought of getting them out is just too overwhelming.  hopefully i can make it back to them.  but in the meantime, things have been pretty good.


so the other day a few weeks ago holy crap, almost two months ago, i had an appointment with the gynecologist to get back on birth control.

can we just let that sink in for a few seconds and appreciate the irony of it: the infertile chick is back on birth control.

and to be honest, there was a part of me that went in that day feeling absolutely ridiculous.  the odds of us getting pregnant without a slew of doctors, nurses, and specialists again are slim.  laughably slim.  but there’s always that tiny little voice in the back of head: maybe this time we could be on the good end of those odds.

for some people, that tiny little voice, that tiny bit of hope is what gets them through.  it’s a positive thing, making the cycles bearable.

but, as much as i can see some silver linings of all we went through, infertility broke hope for me.  it turned it into a dirty four-letter word that i want to recoil from.  because hope can be a mean, evil bitch who breaks your heart.  she whispers in your ear – the OPK is positive! IVF is a magic cure that always works! – and then laughs as she stomps your heart into little pieces.

and to be honest, hope scares me now.  the thought of going back to the doctor and trying again just to get a negative beta is terrifying.  even the thought of just “pulling the goalie” and trying it the old fashioned way (oh fertile people, you have it so easy sometimes) is scary.

but we’re lucky.  ralph and i have talked a lot about it (anyone who knows me knows that’s an understatement), and both agreed that our family feels complete.  that we can best provide pignut with the life that we would like if there wasn’t another mouth to feed (or diaper, or pay for daycare or college for).  as i explained to my midwife: IVF is hard, kids are expensive, and pignut is just so damn perfect we wouldn’t want to even risk getting one of those pain in the butt kids.  so it’s decided: we don’t have to go back there.  back to the doctors.  back to that place of hope.

now before you freak out on me – it’s only been eight months! you’ll change your mind! – we haven’t taken any permanent steps yet.  everyone still has everything intact, or as intact as we do as infertiles.  we can change our mind tomorrow and start the cycle up all over again.

all laid out and ready to go

after talking over my options with my midwife (i forget to take my pill consistently, want something that will help control my endometriosis symptoms).  her recommendation was implanon, the implant that goes in your arm.  it’s progesterone only, and lasts for three years.

there was a little part of me that felt back at home at my appointment.  the equipment all laid out ready to go.  the doctor, the nurse assisting him, the two nurses who were watching the procedure since they had never seen it before.  peeing in the cup just in case (ha!), stepping on the scale.  it all felt so familiar.  except the part where i actually got to keep all my clothes on 🙂

the procedure itself wasn’t too bad: he cleaned the injection site and marked where the rod would be inserted and about how long it should be.  then he used a long needle (with a very thin gauge luckily) to insert lots of magical numbing liquid.  then he lays the special insertion tool on my arm, inserts the needle, and pushed the button that pushed the rod into my arm.  and that was it!  the whole thing was done in minutes.  (you can see a video of someone else getting the implant here).

so far so good.  no side effects.  no period.  i can gross ralph out by pushing on one end of the implant and making the other end pop up a little bit.  what more can a girl ask for?

and best of all: a sense of control.  control that we had lost dozens of months and tests and injections ago.  i didn’t realize how much i had been missing that until i realized that it was back.  and protection from that little voice that pops up with every symptom or late period: maybe we did it on our own this time.

oh yeah.  so as the doctor is finishing up the insertion, he is reviewing the basic facts about the implant.  and he mentions that it is super simple to remove in three years or if i change my mind.  and just says, almost offhand, “and as soon as we remove you’ll be fertile again.  that very same day.”

and i laughed, and laughed, and laughed.


2 thoughts on “babyproofing

  1. Good for you for taking a stand against HOPE….she is a fickle bitch. And like you said, nothing is permanent at this point.

    But the last line from the doctor totally made me snort so loud with laughter I startled my dogs….fertile again, that same day HAHAHAHA!!! that one will keep me laughing for a while!

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