no. 556 – Blog You, VERY Much!

I have really missed it here. Many of you have been following along at my other site know that things haven’t necessarily been quiet on the home front.

November is behind us and I quietly bid it farewell until next year.

I’m starting off here with a meme of sorts.

blog you very much,  Image Hosting See this little tag? It is used to recognize the blog that we first remember reading. I have mentioned it on numerous occasions in the past that the first blog I ever read was Within The Woods by Suz after I inadvertently stumbled into her second IVF cycle while googling something.

This weekend I was reviewing some of those posts from 2005 and as I read the words, it was like it all happened yesterday. While I didn’t remember specifics, reading those thoughts and occurrences refreshed memories in me I though were long forgotten.

Thank you, Suz, for being there. For being here for me since then.

And thank you, Serenity, for "Blogging me, very much!" I hope we all get through life’s trials none the worse for wear, albeit a bit weary.

If you now have your own blog, this badge and post about about who first inspired you. We all have a story to share.

Ahhhhhh. It’s good to be home.

FOURTH BITTEN

First I have a PIO horror story and then I’ll wrap it up with something not-so-light.

Since the time I had to do my own PIO while Mr. DD was out of town, I have continued giving them to myself even when he’s around. It’s not as bad as I imagined, plus they weren’t as nearly as painful as when Mr. DD gave me my shots. Can’t explain it.

Saturday night, per my routine, I shot myself on the left hip. When I finished I couldn’t understand why something was still coming out of the injection site even though the needle had long been withdrawn. It looked like a dark thick string…

It was blood.

My arse had taken on the distinct characteristics of the Dutch dyke that had sprung a leak.

For a few seconds I watched the blood shoot out horizontally for a couple of inches and drop┬áto the floor. I must of said, “Oh shit!” as my husband came around to see what had happened. By then, I had grabbed a tissue and pressed it over the gusher.

On the tiles beneath me was a plate-size blood splatter. I looked at it. I looked up at Mr. DD. Then I promptly burst into tears, bordering on hysterical.

I was so traumatized that I had Mr. DD do my shot last night.

I should note that I’ve never have pulled the plunger back after the injection to see if there’s blood. I don’t know what it means if there is, I just know I’m not injecting myself twice in one night.

To make matters worse, I’m convinced that Murdock is dead. I woke up this morning in a panic and have been trying to come up with some good excuse to get an ultrasound this week as well as next. Since the only reason I have is extreme paranoia and fear, I’m afraid a request will fall on deaf ears.

I try to push the image of seeing an empty gestational sac out of my head by imagining how things will be if this works out. I try to imagine myself fat and cumbersome. I try to imagine the guest room as anything but. I try to imagine myself worn out by chasing around two children…but guess what?

The images just won’t come to me. They are unimaginable. Literally. They all get pushed away by an ultrasound screen with black and white blurring together punctuated by a black hole filled with a frozen nothingness.

If there’s a hell, this would be it for me.