I picked up my Lovenox shots yesterday. Since it’s good to take the injections at a consistent time and I am not always home in the evening, I decided to wait until this morning. I will not lie: when I sat there in the bathroom shortly after waking up and looked at the needle, I asked myself how much I really wanted a baby. It’s going to mean at least two years of injecting myself! And that is assuming I manage to get pregnant sooner rather than later.
But I do want this baby and I had to tell myself that I was already familiar with all this. That I got these shots when I was in the hospital in March. That it wasn’t a big deal then so the only scary thing now was having to do this to myself.
Armed with knowledge and tips I had gleaned off the ever-informative-often-terrifying internet, I found a spot and got ready. I iced it, wiped it down with an antiseptic pad, let it dry and went at myself with the NEEDLE OF DOOM. And?
I sat there for several seconds, the needle not making any headway into my belly flab. Granted, I was taking it slow because you are a crazy person if you think I was going to stab myself fast with this thing. Did I mention that it was a needle? A needle of DOOM?! Just as I convinced myself that I had the hide of an elephant and that this wasn’t going to work, it broke through the skin and slid into my fat. What? But .. that didn’t hurt at all!
I pushed it down until the entire needle was in and then hit the plunger. There was a little resistance at first so when it did go, there was an initial squirt that was too fast for my liking. I heard (and remembered) that the medicine itself stung so I took it slow. Slow, slow, slow. Eventually, I got it all in me and, still, it didn’t hurt. I withdrew the syringe, pressed the antiseptic swab to the injection site and started to ice it again to minimize the bruising.
One shot down, only 729 more to go.
I also took another ovulation test and got another positive. That’s four days in a row now; I have no idea what that means.