Progesterugh.

So yesterday my doctor brought me in for a blood test to check my HCG and Progesterone levels.  (Again, because I have a doctor who cares about us BLMs, and is going to be vigilant!)  My HCG levels are good--apparently good enough to be on par with "normal" pregnancies at 6 weeks.  Of course, this makes me wonder if we're just super-healthy or if we're having twins.  

No, Mike, I don't really think we are.  

But my Progesterone is a little low.  "Normal" is in the low 20s and I'm at 16.  No, I don't have units of measure, mathy friends.  I'm just 5-10 *somethings* low, and I know that's no good.  To remedy this, my doctor has prescribed Progesterone supplements, and because I'm only a little low, I have to administer the hormone myself.  

It's a suppository.  

No, not that kind of suppository.  Don't be gross.  Okay, it's still gross.

But it's all for the babies around this professional-mom's house, so I sucked it up.  Progesterone supplements could be the difference in a healthy baby or another child to mourn.  So, I will now chronicle my adventure.  I guarantee you, this is not for the feint of heart, or really anyone who is not TTC or PG after loss.  Keep your innocence people.  I wish I had mine.

First of all, these hormones are not sold at CVS.  They are compounded.  This is just a fancy way of explaining that they are made locally in the most remote and hard-to-find pharmacy around.  I drove through the parking lot three times before finally calling the pharmacy for help.  I parked in what seemed to be a condo lot and finally found the directional sign.  Dragging a 30-pound child around (who refuses to walk) made this much more interesting.  I open the door  with the tiny, almost-illegible sign and walk into the creepy "vestibule" which was only about 3x3'.  Another door, and a creepy, steep set of stairs.  Oh, great.  Let's haul Liv up a flight or two.  Anyway, I got there and gave my name.  

My joke of "bet you don't get a lot of handicapped patients" was met with silence. 

But here's the next thing no one told me.  Progesterone is pricey.  Like, get a second job pricey.  Nah, not really, but still, anything over $5 seems excessive to me, and this was WAY over $5.  For a one-month prescription, I am now out fifty-five dollars.  But it's for the babies.  Let's stay focused.  

Before I go further, I will now implore you to follow my advice.  In every circumstance, no matter how silly you might feel, if a pharmacy tech asks you if you have questions, ask a question.  Any question.  Don't walk out of the remote, creepy pharmacy without knowing absolutely everything there is to know about what's about to be in your body.  Please.

I did not take this advice.

All I knew going in was that the hormones were supposed to be refrigerated and applied at night.  Here is what I wish I had known:  First, Progesterone suppositories look like little bullets.  Little white bullets that look kind of like hardened lotion.  That is ALL.  What I got was the bullet, still in what I have to guess is a plastic mold.  I stared at that mold for an hour, imploring Google to answer the question I refused to word aloud: "Do I take the plastic off?"  You do take the plastic off.  Not that Dr. Google was any help.  I went with a more guess-and-check style of medicine there, and it paid off. 

So, white bullet in hand, I was still a little cloudy on what came next.  This is where I again kicked myself for not talking to the pharmacist.  Because, and no one had told me, most people get an applicator with their expensive medication.  

I did not.

So there I am with just me and the bullet and a wish and a prayer.  

I inserted it, like a tampon, to a point at which I thought, "that's going to be fine."  Not fine.  The bullet fell right out.  Do it again.  Same result.  Third time?  I ran for the bed and tossed myself on before gravity could do its work.  Um...gravity doesn't have a time-delay.  So I spent the rest of the night lying in bed, afraid to move a muscle for fear of losing the white bullet.  Not moving a muscle.  I couldn't even sleep!  Mike adjusted my pillows, tossed a blanket on me and handed me my cell phone before sawing logs.  And I did not move for hours.  

Hours.

Around midnight, I realized I had not taken my prenatal vitamins, and fear lost out to a need for folic acid.  It's all for the babies, remember?  I got up and went to the bathroom, expecting a fountain of medicine to start trickling out (because the one warning I had gotten was to pick up some panty-liners).  Nothing.  The one warning I was given and nothing happened.  I think my body is just weird.  

Anyway, I did eventually fall asleep and woke up feeling perfectly normal.  No gross stickiness as I had been told.  Just normal, if a little tired and irritated from dealing with Night #1 of Progesterone therapy.  

Night #1.  With no guarantee of how many nights there are to come.

Ugh.  But it's all for the babies.