I love Zen stories. When I am going through a thing, I can usually find a story with a depth of meaning to help pull me though. The current story I am sitting with follows.
An old man accidentally fell into river rapids leading to a high and dangerous waterfall. Onlookers feared for his life. Miraculously, he came out alive and unharmed downstream at the bottom of the falls. People asked him how he managed to survive. He said, “I accommodated myself to the water, not the water to me. Without thinking I allowed myself to be shaped by it. Plunging in with the swirl, I came out with the swirl. This is how I survived.”
I am meditating. My task is that I am accommodating myself to my infertility rather than trying to do it the other way round– which was killing me and my relationship. The new way is ever so much easier (and also harder). Isn’t it amazing how naming a thing really does give us power? (thank you for those words Olive!)
Yesterday was Joey’s ultrasound, bloodwork and mock embryo transfer. Yesterday was also my 2nd pants-on doctor visit in the hand-holding chair. Bloodwork was great (E2 was 20). Ultrasound was fabulous (thin lining and no cysts). Mock embryo transfer was horrific! The nurse was down in the curtain-covered area with the speculum and the tiny flexible pipette. I was near Joey’s head. The nurse tried the transfer. No go. Then she re-adjusted the speculum and tried again. No go. This pattern went on for several minutes. I watched Joey get more and more uncomfortable and the nurse get more and more frustrated. I think they both forgot to breath because when I told Joey to take a deep, calming breath, they both did it! The nurse then called for a “green kit” and an RN came running into the room with what appeared to be Medieval torture devices.
Implement after implement was attempted. Joey looked more and more pale and uncomfortable. Finally our RE was called for help. She tried a new speculum and the pipette slid home without any more fuss. WHEW! I hated being in the pants-on section for a new reason. I am a champ with pain. Joey manages pain. I would much rather be the one hurting than to see her that way. This is hard! My heart broke just a little bit.
TMI alert: apparently Joey’s *airport* is more of a small regional carrier than a hanger that can accept large international flights. 😉 How will she ever give birth? The good news is that she is now fully suppressed and we are all set for this cycle to continue.
Tonight will be the first time I give Joey a big shot in her bum. Wish us both luck. I may post a big bruise picture tomorrow.