When the Going Gets Tough

Today I took my first Lupron Depot injection.  A few months ago when we were trying to prevent me from ovulating, I took small doses of Lupron every day subcutaneously.  Today’s shot was the big sister – a 30-day supply of Lupron in one hip shot.  The idea behind this new protocol is to cut off my body’s estrogen supply since estrogen feeds the endometrium.  We’re hoping that by giving the endometrium both inside and outside (that’s the endometriosis) of my uterus a break, then it will respond much better when we gear up for another transfer in 2018.  Lupron’s job is to tell my pituitary gland to stop releasing luetinizing hormone (LH), which triggers ovulation and the release of estrogen.  So what does no estrogen mean? You guessed it! An induced menopausal state for the next 2 months. Thank God a cold front is moving through.

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I have to admit that at first I was hesitant to start the Lupron protocol right away.  After our last failed transfer then the biopsy, I wanted a break from everything.  Our doctor gave me the option of taking as much time off as I needed, but we decided to move forward with this new protocol beginning in November since it only meant 2 shots for the rest of the year.  Still, a part of me was worried that I had let my impatience get in my way and had committed to this plan prematurely.  Sure it didn’t mean I had to take daily injections or pills, but I was still doing something infertility related.  “Does this really constitute a break?” I thought.

Then this weekend I realized…there is no such thing as a break.  Infertility, it’s just what we do! Seriously though, why did I even think that after 3 years of trying to get pregnant, I could just put that desire to be a mom on the back burner for 2 months?   Physically, yeah, we’re taking a break, but emotionally…I’m not sure we’ll ever get one.  In fact, despite the odds being stacked against us for so long, I still had a little bit of hope this past month that maybe we would be one of those stories people told about their friends who tried for years to get pregnant and did “IVF and everything” and then it just happened unexpectedly.   But Aunt Flo’s arrival this weekend shot that to hell. So no, there is no break, because every month is a reminder of what we are…childless.  And honestly, the closest I can get to a “break” right now is to shut down my ovaries for two months.  So with all that weighing heavily on my mind, I had a meltdown Monday night.

I was tired from traveling 5 hours for work that day.  Other than that, the evening was off to a good start.  Brennen harvested his first broccoli plant, so we were having fun documenting his suburban gardening milestone.  Then, we came inside to watch DWTS (Brennen, don’t kill me).  I was reaching across the coffee table to get my computer when the weight of my right arm knocked one of the loose boards out of place and I fell through the middle of it.  It’s ok to laugh! I did too, at first.  Then I realized my arm hurt pretty bad and that Brennen was still laughing.  I was embarrassed. I can’t remember the last time I felt like that in front of him.  With tears in my eyes like a 5 year old I said, “Stop laughing at me.”  And like always, once I started crying, it was hard to stop.  Forget the embarrassing fall. I wasn’t crying about that anymore. My tears turned into those of anger. I’m tired of constantly failing.  What gives? Why us? How much longer? And with every question, I cried harder.

Afterwards, I sat on the couch and stared at the TV with that all-too-familiar heaviness.  Today, I’m better. Still down, but better. Sadness hits me suddenly like that. And like I’ve said so many times before, when it does, I recognize it but then say goodbye to it.  Unfortunately, lately it’s getting harder to say goodbye. But I’m trying…little by little.  Things are tough right now on the infertile front, especially with the holidays approaching, but we’ll make it through. If being upset at Aunt Flo’s arrival means anything, it’s that we still have hope. And today marks the first day of a new plan and a new hope.

Hey, you know what they say! When the going gets tough, the tough get menopausal!

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