So last night Baby had to do her first injection for IVF using a little needle attached to a pen that goes into the flesh around the navel. After a couple of hours of waiting for the on-call doc to call back and explain what to do when the pen dosages don’t match up with the dosage instructions (wtf Gonal-F?) it was time to do the deed. Baby swabbed her stomach with antiseptic and then stood there poised. And stood there.
“I can do that, if you want.” I said after a few moments.
“Maybe that would be a good idea.”
She handed me the pen, told me the procedure, and looked away. So I squeezed a pinch of her stomach and stuck in the needle and depressed the pen. This felt a little creepy. But it was also kind of awesome. This was the first time I felt like I was actually doing something to help this pregnancy thing along. Yay! I helped!
During previous cycles I mainly stood around like a third wheel while the doctor stuck his hand up Baby’s hoo-ha and shot in yet some other guy’s stuff. It’s disorienting to feel like an unnecessary body guard during the possible moment of conception of your own kid. So I’m surprised but pleased to find that moving on to what is a more difficult, physically taxing, and ‘medical’ attempt to knock Baby up has at least one positive result – involving me in the process. Hopefully it will also work. Fingers crossed . . . .