I am doing some early spring-cleaning…lots of donating, selling a few items here and there, and pitching the items that don’t fit into either of the first two categories.


I came across the CVS file in my desk, and there were six months of medication bills from 2017.


The memories of excitement… discomfort…and hiding.


IVF medication is strong stuff, to put it nicely.


It changed my body, and how my body functioned.


Reactions were awkward and often painful.


Medicine had to be timed and tracked, chilled or taken at room temperature.  Once a day, twice a day, sometimes three times.


And expensive.  Sure, I had insurance coverage, but not 100%.


All taken with the intention that an egg would successfully be fertilized to then form into a healthy embryo that could be transferred and grow into a healthy pregnancy.


And we aren’t talking about cold and flu medicine here.  Try Progesterone, Endometrin vaginal inserts, Follistim, leuprolide, Ganirelix, Doxycycline, and HCG microdose.


Yes, try saying those three times fast.


Then I looked deeper into the receipts, and reread the doses prescribed, the refills remaining, if they were FSA eligible…such minor details to some, but literally life or death details to me and my unborn, pre-conceived baby.


I am a person who believes in religion, and I respect those of you who do not.  But, I often kid that God has a funny sense of humor when it comes to me, as there have been confusing and often very uncertain times in my life, where suddenly, everything seems to work out with my best interest at hand.


At the time, I never quite understood why I had to take so much medicine and go through so much hiding in the bathroom to try to have a baby someday.  I didn’t understand why I was going to be limited to the number of embryos that would be eligible to transfer for Dan and I.


Some days, I still do not.


However, I sit here, writing this blog entry for you, as a person who cares and wants to help the world with her story.  I walked a very specific path of IVF trying to have a little one, with no real clue as to what would be prescribed to me next.  Often times, with no outside support, having to deal with unnecessary comments and still today, I hear about how I should “have more kids.”


It’s not that simple with IVF.


And it’s not meant to be for Dan and I.


There were drugs for me to take and mess up the normalcy of my body, so I could someday look at Ferris and call him my son.


There were credit card charges that Dan and I endured so that one day Ferris could enter this world and grab onto our fingers with his tiny hands.


There were moments of pure joy and ultimate lows that I had to face in order to one-day deliver a baby to call my own.


What a wonderful world this truly can be.