Snowquester

After confirming ovulation last week, we were instructed to place a phone order with Freedom Fertility.  Tuesday afternoon, a large box arrived, overflowing with syringes, needles, glass bottles, alcohol swabs, even our very own biohazard "sharps" container.  Talk about playing doctor!  All that was left to do was stick a few of the meds in the fridge and wait for my period to arrive.  As a snowstorm started rumbling up the Shenandoah Valley, I snuggled under the covers and watched YouTube videos of calm, smiling women stabbing themselves in the belly for the chance at a child.  I prayed for strength.

When we woke up the next morning (a little late, as it was a highly anticipated snow day) we noticed that our power was out.  Oh well, we thought.  We'll just have to wait a while to get started on our day. We rescued the precious Leuprolide and HCG from the fridge and buried them in a plastic bag in the snow.  We hung out for a while, reading, knitting, worrying about the food in our fridge/freezer, then decided to go find someplace nearby serving hot food to cheer us up.  A dismal drive around town revealed that absolutely everywhere was out of power.  I was starting to get some major mood swings, partly from PMS but also greatly enhanced by the synthetic estrogen I've been taking.  Every few minutes I was hanging from the rafters silly, then collapsing in a pile of tears and self-pity.  Honestly, all I wanted was a warm bath and my heating pad.

The next morning, we woke up to an even colder, still dark apartment.  I was starting to lose it.  I had a paper due at class that night which I had lost an entire day to work on, my hair was a grease pit, and damn, my PMS was getting intense.  Bonnie called, wondering if we should meet for our injections lesson, in case my period didn't come until the weekend.  We agreed that would be best, but Jake had a meeting scheduled with a professor, and I hated that I would have to just drive up another day to get the baseline data done.  Just like that, Aunt Flo showed up, and Jake's professor canceled their meeting.  Was our luck finally changing?!  We drove up to Charlottesville in separate cars, played with some needles at Bonnie's desk until I felt confident I could do it, and had what essentially felt like a drive-by ultrasound.  We were instructed to start our shots the next morning.  Jake drove back, assuring me we would have power by the time I got back.  I just couldn't believe I was going to class at once so filthy and so unprepared.

Of course, the power wasn't on when I returned home at 10:30 pm.  In fact, the electricity company had changed their projected time of repair to late the next night.  I started blubbering immediately.  I couldn't do my first set of injections in the dark.  I couldn't go to school in the morning still dirty.  I couldn't worry any more that the snow was keeping our meds the right temperature.  I couldn't face the rest of a night full of cramps without my heating pad.  I....just....couldn't.  I wanted a hotel room with a mini-fridge, or I was going to explode.  Since Jake's not suicidal, he found a room within seconds while I packed up our meds and a change of clothes.  The only place nearby that offered mini-fridges was about $20 more than the next cheapest place, but like I said, I was a woman on a mission.

This is when Lady Fortune decided to give the Lewises a break.  At check in, the staff hooked us up with an extra-small room at a special discount, HALF the price of the competitors without mini-fridges!  This room was auspiciously nicknamed "The Baby Room" by the staff.  I couldn't keep from grinning.  There were cookies and hot coffee in the lobby, next to a sign reminding us of the full breakfast buffet in the morning.  We sighed with deep satisfaction and ambled up to our room, congratulating ourselves on making such an excellent decision.  Though the room was small, it had everything we needed, and we enjoyed a warm, clean, relaxed night of sleep.

The next morning I self-administered my first injection (not a big deal at all, it turns out) and went to school.  A few hours later, I got a beautiful text message from Jake: the power was ON.  Hallelujah!