Captain Heparin is a mean, burning, poisonous jerky boy.
The mental image did nothing - it's just heparin and it hurts. It hurts almost every single day, every single time. Sometimes I get lucky and I find a spot where I don't even feel the needle going in and by the grace of God the medicine doesn't burn. But other days and other times, I hit a nerve on accident but I sure as hell am not going to pull the needle back out so I push. The pain runs down my leg and I cry. I dread the mornings because I have to do my shot. I hate going to bed because I have to do my shot. I don't have to measure any more - I just look for a spot that doesn't have a bruise. I can tell it's doing its job - my blood is nice and thin and I have bruises all over my belly now. At least it's not swimsuit season anymore. I cheat and sometimes pinch up my skin, even though Dr. P said not to, but if I do it wrong I bleed and then get a giant bruise. I also don't always inject at a 90-degree angle. Hitting my muscle that first time has made injecting even worse because I'm so scared of pushing it in too far. When I inject below my belly button I pull the skin away from my body and come in sideways just so I can be sure I don't hit the muscle. I got shorter needles, the kind you use for insulin. They don't hurt as bad but they also don't go in as deep, which causes major bruising and swelling. I also push for a much slower count - counting to five was too fast. I found a Heparin message board - they have message boards for everything - and they said the key to reducing the pain is to inject as slowly as possible. It definitely works but it still hurts so ridiculously bad. Many times I contemplate not doing it at all, just skipping this one time, what could it hurt? But I never do - there's no way to know how strong my tendency to clot is, although I'd guess it's pretty strong. Before this, if I cut myself I usually stopped bleeding almost instantly. I've never had a nosebleed and even that day in Dr. P's office when she made me gush, it stopped fairly quickly. Although I have no idea if clotting is the same on the micro-embryonic level as it is when you cut yourself. So I do the shots - every morning and every night.
Since I've stopped doing ab-work in yoga, I have a larger cushion of fat although I still have to bend and hunch to get it as plump as possible. I've never been so happy to be flabby.
I was talking to my friend about how much the needles sucked and how stank my attitude was about them and she was like, "Yeah well, I have to inject myself several times a day so that I can live." That's when it hit me. It would be so much of a different story if these shots were for me. If they were to ensure, guarantee my life. I'd be first in line, like yo, where my needles at!!
But that's why this sucks. Because it's not a guarantee. If there's something else wrong and I still lose this baby? After all these shots? If I have a stillbirth? After all this? Oooh Jesus. Your girl would be on the 6 o'clock news, been done shot some shit up!!
R came home on Sunday afternoon. I picked him up from the airport and I thought we were going straight home but he wanted to go somewhere to eat. I knew if I waited to tell him until we'd gotten home he would be upset that I didn't tell him sooner. After a little small talk, I spilled.
"I went to the doctor on Friday."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, they actually found out what was wrong with me. Turns out I have a clotting disorder and that's why I was having miscarriages."
"Well, it's good that they found out."
"Well, so...they found all that out...because I'm actually...pregnant."
Thank God I was driving and didn't have to look at him. I didn't press him to say anything and for a while we drove in silence.
"Damn, I've got good swimmers." Side-eye from the wife.
We arrived at the restaurant and once we'd been seated and got settled in, he started talking a mile a minute.
"Well, we're going to have to get that second dog now, we can't wait till after. I'll have to call my parents and see when they can come down. I'll have to tell my boss. When is your first doctor's appointment? We're going to have to sell the house. If you're not working, we have to figure out our finances. This means we really need to work out our issues. The timing isn't great but okay, this is a good thing."
And on and on. I knew he was just processing, so I didn't comment on anything he was saying. We got home and just went about our business. There was no real excitement, no jumping up and down, no smiling from ear to ear. I was just relieved he wasn't angry.
That night I offered to let him do my shot - you know, so he would feel involved in the process. That did not go well. Just that morning I was on the phone with my girlfriend for almost an hour trying to do my shot, cursing and laughing at myself and cursing and finally getting it in. Thank you H!
In theory, letting R do it was a good idea. In practice, I couldn't help but see him as a predator, coming at me to stab and poison me. There was lots of Don't freakin move so fast! No wait wait wait! I'm not ready! Hang on! Okay go, no WAIT! Let me lay down, DON'T MOVE SO FAST! No I can't lay down, I'm going to stand up, no WAIT!
Okay you know what, I don't need you to get fucking frustrated with me. Like I'm doing this on purpose. Thanks for your fucking support and encouragement. You know what, give me the damn needle I'll do it myself.
All right fine, I'll let you do it but you need to find some patience. Do you have ANY idea how hard this is? Stop getting your feelings hurt. Just go.
Motherfucker injected my MUSCLE.
He was nervous and didn't know his own strength and couldn't judge depth and holy shit, the BURNING. I was standing with my back to his front so he was kind of holding me up and that was the only thing that kept me from falling. I held super still so the needle wouldn't break off and I was moaning not the muscle!! I crawled to the bed and held my side and cursed everything.
To date, he and my mother have given me my shots and they both have left giant bruises. Because it's my body, I know best where to inject, how slow to go and I've gotten to where it's doable. I've even shot up at my desk at work! I'm down to about five to ten minutes now which is about about as fast as I think I'll ever be able to do it. I can't throw it in like a dart because it scares me too much. I can't look away because I'm afraid I'll miss and break the needle. I have to place the needle against my skin and gently gently push. There are still times that seeing the needle go into my skin makes me want to puke but I'm doing it.
It's so demoralizing - I know so many infertile women would do anything to have a baby and they say as much, but when it comes to it, would you really? Would you really let someone come slap you in the face and punch you in the gut twice a day every single day? Especially if you knew that doing the thing you hate the most in the world still might not get what you want? Anyone can push through and put your head down and go to work, as long as you know that there's a trophy at the finish line. We can all reach down deep and find that resolve, as long as you are reasonably sure of the outcome.
But I wasn't sure. At this point, the baby only might be there. I couldn't even keep my eyes on the prize because I wasn't even sure that there was a prize.
My first doctor's appointment was the following week.
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