5.4.3.2.1…….
It is Tuesday, February 7. Our fabulous Costa Rican trip has come to an end. My parents are on a plane back to Michigan. Greg’s seven week sabbatical is over and he reluctantly gets up in the morning to go to work. Suddenly, I am left with some time to realize that this whole IVF thing is coming up. Fast.
Starting next Monday, I will begin a series of drugs that will basically take over my uterus and begin to create LOTS of eggs. From there, they will choose the nicest, prettiest ones. The funny thing is, I have not even started to think of next week and the beginning of these treatments. I feel a little bit confused by this. Shouldn’t my every thought be about babies? Am I not putting enough effort into visualization and imagining myself with a baby? If I don’t put forth the effort and the end result is not what we hoped, will that be my fault?
The truth is, I have been feeling a bit complacent about this whole thing and I cannot decide if this is good or bad. I like to think I have been living in the present, especially while basking in the sun in Costa Rica. How could I not enjoy every minute? Why would I want to think of the upcoming weeks filled with shots in my belly? The other part of me, terrified of the end result and thinking of yet another disappointing negative on a stick. Just another reason I can’t bring myself to imagine the news that I could be pregnant.
Now, before you mention that I need to think positive, I am the pro of telling other people the same thing. Actually, I may have even MASTERED it. I truly believe in the power of positive thinking and prayer, yet it just does not feel so easy when I approach this particular subject.
During our trip to Costa Rica, my amazing yoga teacher, Michele, told me to offer up intentions in my practice and then release them. In my Catholic school days, my teacher, Mrs. Nielsen, told me that I may ask God for help and trust that it is in good hands. To me, both ideas seem to be an excellent reason (or excuse) not to be consumed by it all.
As I am writing this, I am slowly coming to the realization that I need to think of this next crazy month as an “adventure.” I don’t doubt there will be plenty of laughs when Greg has to stab me with a needle. Or plenty of tears when the surge of hormones run through my body. I am starting to think we need to be more worried about Greg. Maybe he is the one who needs to be writing this blog?
love,
kara
