I'm tired. In fact, tired doesn't cover it. Dead on my feet is a little closer to the truth. If I'm not at work, I'm in bed. I had expected to have less energy than usual, but it's so much worse than I imagined. I spend my days yawning constantly, those big yawns that bring tears to the eyes. I have little to no concentration or attention span. I hear people around me talking, laughing, and I just don't have the energy to try and focus on what they're saying. I don't even want to try. At home, I'm struggling to hold a conversation with Boy because I can't remember from one minute to the next what the last thing I said was. In the past, there have been times I've been awake for 40+ hours straight, had jetlag to deal with and I'd honestly trade the way I feel now for that. That was a walk in the park compared to this!
All aspects of my life have had to be put on hold because of this treatment. Blogging has taken a slide (as you've probably noticed); my creative juices just aren't flowing at all and stringing a coherent sentence together is way more challenging than it should be. Reading blogs just isn't happening either. My unread Bloglovin posts went over the 1000 mark a couple of days ago, but as I'm going to bed when I'm at home I haven't switched my laptop on for long enough to even start to make a dent in the backlog. It's taking everything I have to keep going with the #100HappyDays challenge on Instagram. I missed a wedding a couple of weeks back that I've spent the last 12 months looking forward to; not only was I exhausted, but the timing of my injections and the time of the wedding reception just couldn't work.
I've always known that I don't like needles, and would avoid them if at all possible. Since starting this process, I've learnt that if I have to have daily injections, I'd rather be in control of them than somebody else. I hoped that I might reach the stage of grudging acceptance, but I haven't. In fact, I'm suffering from nightmares about needles - believe me, this is not helping the process at all!
I also didn't realise that when you start poking sharp objects through your skin every day, after a few days your skin starts to develop some resistance. I found that out the hard way, a week in to my treatment. It took me 15 (yes, fifteen!) attempts to pierce through beyond the top layer of skin. I drew blood for the first time; not once, but twice. I cried my eyes out. I'm not great at dealing with pain, but what was worse than that was the fear of failure. What if I couldn't get that injection in, and it ruined everything?
So that, dear blog friends, is what I've learned about IVF so far. I knew it wasn't going to be easy by any stretch of the imagination, but I admit that I underestimated just how hard it was going to be. I'm told that once I start stimming my energy will come back, and I really hope that's true. I'm tired of being tired. I miss having the energy to be happy. I miss having interaction with others. I miss feeling that I'm living rather than just existing.
**This post originally appeared on my old blog and has been imported to Living for the Victories**