rub some dirt in it

30 May

Eric wrote a blog post a while ago about that expression–rub some dirt in it.  It’s an interesting one to me.  It’s funny because every time this infertility crap starts to get “real,” I want to just run away to the woods. And we usually do.  “Rub some dirt in it” indeed.

This week has been kind of tough.  We are officially in the throws of the next injectable cycle.  Yay…  We have a new drug to try this time around.  Fun fact: it’s made from pig urine, which I try not to focus on too much. It stings when it’s injected and for a minute or so after it really hurts–apparently if you mix the drugs and let them sit for 10 minutes and ice the spot, it hurts less…but that shit still smarts (another expression I find hilarious).  Oh yeah…and you mix the drugs yourself.  I still have a really hard time believing that we are receiving needles and various medications in the mail (via a special, infertile-people pharmacy–who knew those existed??), then we are trusted to mix shit together and inject it ourselves.  I am just thankful Eric can give me the shots, because I can’t imagine doing them myself.

Luckily, my doctor completely heard me when I said I hate needles (*total sarcasm*).  We are also adding an additional injection this cycle.  When I questioned why (I managed to do it without the whine-y whyyyyyyy, but in my head that’s totally how I asked it), she pretty much just said that we’re on the I-don’t-really-know-what’s-wrong-with-you-so-we’re-on-the-can’t-hurt-might-help-plan.  Side note: She called me an “anomaly” which would normally make me happy except in this case being “unique” is totally not a good thing.  *sigh*  But what’s another shot in the stomach, right? Apparently this one also hurts. BUT this shot doesn’t start til sometime next week-ish…it’ll all depend on how things progress.

So I’ve been, in my not so humble opinion, taking the nightly shots like a champ.  I am determined not to be a baby…I sobbed for about an hour after my RE appointment thinking about how I didn’t know if I was strong enough to do this again…then I remembered all of the other things I never thought I’d be strong enough to do and that had a decently sobering effect. Also I needed to get my sorry ass ready to lead a group run.  Man the responsibility of leading those group runs has saved my life more than once…  I cried the first night of shots, but haven’t since.  I just close my eyes and bite my shirt and take some deep breaths and try not to be too sad that our baby making is not only un-sexy but also now painful.  I got my first bruise from night 2 of shots (last time we did shots for 20-some days, so that’s encouraging)…

Yesterday night, a possible monkey wrench got thrown into the plans.  So there’s nothing to do but keep injecting myself and go for blood work and wait for those results to see if we’re OK to keep going or if this cycle is a bust.  Which is lame.  But worrying about it gets me no where, so I’m trying not to think about it (much).  Any time my body wants to start reacting the right way and stop being an “anomaly” would be all right with me (and us).

Despite the crappy week, I’ve been running. Every day, it’s the last thing I WANT to do (because eating potato chips while watching Househunters would totally make me feel so much better), but afterwards I feel so much better.  Maybe because of the actual physical activity, maybe because of the woods, or maybe a combination of the two.  Running is the one time when my brain is (mostly) shut off.  I mean…when you’re doing speed work, all you can think about is your lungs burning or your legs needing to pump faster if you’re going to hit your splits.  When it’s 85 and 100% humidity, it’s all you can do to keep wiping sweat out of your eyes so you don’t trip and fall.  When  you are cruising through the swamp that is Black Creek Park and realize that every time you stop, you are getting bit by mosquitoes, which is like another needle stick, and fuck that shit, RUN!!!!


The woods calm me down.  The trees, the fresh air, the dirt, the animals, knowing my body…my broken, fucked-up body…is carrying me through some amazingly beautiful, amazingly perfect places and situations.  It all reminds me that life is not bad right now.  And even if this doesn’t work, even if we never have a baby, I can still go hit a trail and feel a sense of deep peace.  This weekend we are camping.  I am beyond excited.  Excited to be inspired by amazing runners.  To support people while they are putting their bodies through hell all to accomplish big goals.  To sit by a campfire at night with Eric and Picasso and just be.  To run on some beautiful trails.  To hike with my guys.  And to hopefully have a lot of “lost myself” moments…




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