It’s Only a Test …

Bag lady, you gon' miss your bus dragging all dem drugs like that. That's just for the holiday weekend.

I got the go-ahead Wednesday to start my plethora of potions in the build-a-baby kit.

You’ll have to pardon my irreverence. In addition to my normal last-minute packing, I also had to prepare and pack all my drugs for the next several days to get me through Thanksgiving weekend. Making sure I had the right amount of needles, vials, ice packs for the refrigerated stuff and necessary alcohol wipes and gauzes added an hour to my ritual. I’m exhausted, but sitting under this hooded hair dryer is the first time I’ve sat still since I left work. And I have to stop my mind from reeling; it’s been on 90 mph since my ultrasound and blood work this morning.

The point was to make sure my reproductive system responded well to the birth control pills by essentially taking a nap. I didn’t know I was worried about the possibility of the cycle being canceled until worry came up during our workplace Bible study. Boo, hiss. I hate when God calls me out like that. I relaxed a bit after that, but my relief was only temporary even after the nurse called to say the meds were a go. It was like I was suddenly eligible to take a test I hadn’t studied for. I really did mean to brush up on the shot and medicine-mixing lessons from the first in-vitro appointment last week. Just like college, there was so much information that I’d resigned myself to figuring it out on my own time. Tick, tock, tick, tock — lo and behold, the test is tomorrow!

Instead of worrying, though, I’ll sing this song until my iPod changes to Thanksgiving songs:

“It’s only a test you’re going through.
It’s gonna be over real soon.
Keep the faith; don’t give up
For it’s only a test!”

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