Yesterday, I left work a little early to stop by my doctor's office for the FSH injections. When I arrived, the receptionist told me she'd tell the nurse I was here, then proceeded to pack up, close the glass door, lock it, and leave. The other receptionist did the same. I sat there in the waiting room, um, waiting, and there was silence surrounding me. The place was deserted. I started panicking, mildly. "Oh no," I thought. "The receptionist forgot to tell the nurse who's supposed to administer the injections that I'm here, and we'll miss our chance. This has to be done today, now. Oh no!" I tried to calm down and concentrate on a magazine, repeating to myself that I had not been forgotten. I thought back to yesterday's office visit, during which Drew and I sat in the examining room for more than an hour and a half before the doctor came in to do the ultrasound. I had begun to lose hope then, as well. Was so frustrated sitting there, on the cold examining table. It couldn't be prevented--the doctor was called into a delivery--and the nurse had been instructed to make us wait there for her to arrive, because, again, timing is crucial.

Finally, I saw a nurse peek her head out the door. I've never been so happy to be called into that dreaded examining room. She apologized profusely and prepared the crazy-long needles. I assumed "the position" and received the dreadful pokes. "Damn!" I was yelling in my head. "Hold it together...don't cry....you've gone through this before."

It still freakin' hurt. It still hurts now. Damn. No matter how hard I try, or psyche myself up beforehand, I cannot get used to all of this. The crazy drugs. Needles upon needles upon needles. The cold, hard examining table.

Right now, I am praying that we'll be successful so that I won't have to experience all of this again next month. Next month, the doctor said, it'll be even worse. More drugs, more ultrasounds (one every few days), even more shots. Please...let this be it.

Because it just hurts so much.

-Em