I See a Bad Moon Rising

What was I thinking, visiting my in-laws the weekend I started taking my heavy-duty fertility drugs? Dr. Jekyll reigned until about two hours into our visit; then Mr. Hyde booted him in the ass and seized the helm.

The drug information leaflets mentioned "minor discomfort." Physical, I assumed. Wrong. Someone needs to contact the makers of Bravelle, Menopur, and Lupron to tell them to update their list of side effects to include the following:

- Intense irritation at one's mother-in-law, father-in-law, and both sisters-in-law

- A tendency to bark out -- rather than gently suggest -- directives to one's 2-year-old daughter and her 2-year-old and 5-year-old cousins, mainly because one's mother-in-law wants to be liked so badly by them that she can't f***ing say no

- The disappearance of one's BIS (behavioral inhibition system), resulting in excessive and surprisingly unwelcome candor (e.g., "Ray, in one year you'll be 60 and she'll be 30. Will you give yourself permission to stop rescuing her then?")

- Spaciness and disorientation, resulting in the missing of two freeway exits and the running of one red light

- Exhaustion and a desire to sleep for eons

- An overall feeling of social disconnection, resulting in a tape-loop internal monologue consisting chiefly of "Who are these people?"

- A tic-like impulse to bitch sanctimoniously to one's husband about his family for the entire four-hour drive home, all the while knowing that one's own behavior was far more irritating than anyone else's behavior

Oh, my friends. When this is over, if I am not pregnant, I'm running straight to my doctor and demanding a scrip for antidepressants. I'm tired of being a lycanthrope (and misanthrope), and Mr. Wheat wants his wife back.

My reproductive endocrinologist mentioned the power of positive thinking, which annoys me because that kind of Pollyanna mindset justifies blaming the victim -- so all those women who don't get pregnant through IVF should be disappointed in themselves for not thinking positively enough? Come ON -- but some tiny part of me believes that positive thinking may increase my chances just a little, and since I'm pretty sure I don't want to go through this a second time, I did the best I know to do: I invested in comedy. Books and CDs. Right now I'm listening to the Flight of the Conchords CD, and let me tell you, it's taking the edge off. It's not Valium, but I'll take any relief I can get.

For those who are interested: The protocol has been 20 units of Lupron morning and evening, along with 300 units of Bravelle in the morning and 300 units of Menopur in the evening. Injections go in the fat pad on my belly. I don't mind shots, so they're the least of my trauma. It's being pickled in hormones I don't like. The hormones (those listed above plus the birth control pills they had me on for a month before all of this) have thrown off my thyroid levels, so they keep seesawing, and they also seem to have messed with my immune system, because I have contracted yet another cold. (This may be why the thyroid levels are messed up too, because my thyroid dysfunction is the result of an autoimmune disease.) On the up side, it's an interesting way to learn about one's body. Apparently, hormones affect everything.