"As for me, I'll take one baby marinated in a dish please"

My farewell to progesterone

These last 10 weeks, I have not written one bad thing about how much I despise my progesterone suppositories.  I have not mentioned how gross they are, how they leak, how Ben has asked me more than once if I have toilet paper in my underwear.....(hey, desperate times call for desperate measures). There is a reason behind my lack of complaints this time around, which Ben so eloquently reminds me of every time I get ready to go into a progesterone tirade.

The story goes something like this:

September 8, 2011, our first round of IVF had just wrapped up and we decided to celebrate by flying to Bulgaria for some seaside relaxation.  We were flying Wizz Air, which charges for carry-on baggage, so we just brought a backpack.  We didn't need much, just our shorts, swimsuits, passports, and my progesterone.

So one two-hour Wizz Air flight later, we land at Burgas Airport (which by the way, was bombed 4-months later in an attack against Israel.  We sure know how to keep it excitingl!). 

Anyway, we pick up our rental car and off we go to the black sea.  After some sightseeing and lunch, relaxing at the beach is exactly what we did.

That first night I went to take my progesterone.  Oops.  I had brought the box that only had 1-full-day worth of pills rather than the full five-day box I thought I had brought with me.  At first I tried to be reasonable about the situation.  I would ration the pills over the course of the 5 days that we were in Bulgaria.  Yes, that would work.  I would take one in the morning and one at night rather than the two.  But then I did the math.  That wouldn't work at all.  Panic time.

I spent the whole night worrying about progesterone.  I couldn't sleep.  I couldn't stop thinking about it.  
The next morning I rationed.  One instead of two.  I did the same that night.  But then I had no more pills for the next three days.  "How could you do this to yourself?" I thought.  I jeopardized the whole IVF process.  All the money, all the effort of going abroad, all the shots in the stomach, everything.  I could have potentially ruined everything because of three days worth of progesterone supplements.  

Once again a sleepless night.  Except this one was even worse.  I had no more pills to ration.  All the thoughts came creeping back.  I had to tell Ben the next morning.  Would he blame me?  How could he not?  I had just ruined the whole experience with one oversight.  

It was a horrible night in Bulgaria.  And it didn't help that the bed in our condo was uncomfortable and the room smelled like sewer.  But the worst part about it was that I was positively sure that I single handedly ruined any chance of a baby Hummel. 

The next morning was confession time.  I spilled my big secret to Ben.  No more progesterone.  Dooms day.  Did I throw in tears?  Maybe.  But when you know you just wasted thousands of dollars, how could there not be tears.

He was annoyed.  But then he said the magic words, "I bet we can find a pharmacy around here that would sell it to us."

I was convinced we couldn't.  Nope, we were doomed.  There were no pharmacies.  But he was sure there were.  So off we went in search of of a big green neon cross.

Less than 2 minutes down the road we spotted one.  First challenge out of the way.  We went in and saw a pharmacist.  Did she speak English?  Not really.  I asked if you needed a Dr. note for medicine and she said yes.  I was devastated.  I needed a doctor.  

But Ben wasn't so quick to give up.  He showed the progesterone box to the lady and asked if we could buy it.  Finally understanding what we wanted, the lady sold us two boxes of the stuff.  What did I do?
I started crying.  Hysterically. I'm talking can't breath, suck the wind up sobs.  And I couldn't stop.  Ben was so startled, he quickly paid for the progesterone, told the lady that I was super hormonal and ushered me out of the store.  I ended up crying out the pharmacy into the car and back to the condo.  I had never been so happy to see those gross white balls in my life.  Two days of worrying myself sick.  Two days of thinking, no, knowing that I had ruined our chances of children.  Two days of hating myself beyond imagination.  And it was all solved in 20 minutes.

So now, whenever I start complaining about how gross it is, Ben reminds me of that day, and I quit my whining.

So, as I prepare to "take" my final progesterone suppository tonight, I must salute those little white balls and the progesterone they give my body to carry a baby.  

But I will not miss them when they're gone.