I've started the shots.
I went in last Friday to checkout the ovaries one more time. The cysts were gone.
I took my first shot Friday evening. Husband gave it to me. I'm a chicken.
Saturay, Husband wasn't home. It was just me and my friend Abby (not her real name). I first tried to convince Abby to give me the shot. I could tell she really didn't want to. She had given her sister one of her fertility shots. According to her sister, Abby doesn't do well with giving shots. But, according to any older sister, the younger sister doesn't do anything well, so I was willing to give her a try. In Abby's words, her sister can't stop being her sister, but I could stop being her friend.
So, Abby was out.
That left only me.
Me and a large syringe with a seemed-small-at-first-but-not-so-much-now needle. Strange how a needle seems large only when you have to stick it into your stomach.
After eleven minutes of deep breathing, staring at my stomach and counting to three several (several) times, I finally stuck it in. Only it didn't go all the way in. So I pulled it out. I then had to stick it in again and push until it was all the way in.
When I finally did it, I realized that I'm a drama chicken. It's really not that bad. It doesn't hurt at all. The dose I'm taking is so small, it doesn't even leave a bump.
So there we are. I've had three shots and went in today to see how the ovaries are reacting. It looks like there are four that are doing well. Now, the probability that all four will get fertilized and implanted is low. Heck, even the probability that one will get fertilized and implanted is low.
Something about doing the shots makes it seem like we leveled up in the fertility game. Like, now we are serious. Now we are in the big leagues.