“You have a good body.” Ryan texts me. Where is this going, husband of 5 years…? “It does what it’s told.” Ah. Truth, brother.
My estradiol took a big leap today – what a sigh of relief. Back for bloodwork/ US tomorrow, and tomorrow night will most likely be the trigger.
I am knee deep in unchartered territory with my body. Between injections, follicle counts, anesthesia, surgery, embryo transfers and (hopefully!!) pregnancy, this vessel of muscle and bones needs to give the performance of a lifetime, and it’s rising to the occasion. That estradiol scare was out of character, and I’m glad to see things back on track. Well done, bod.
While I have a healthy, body, I do not have a thin body, and for that reason I haven’t always had such warm sentiments towards my self image. I am active and a relatively healthy eater, and hailed from a home where both nature and nurture produced two skinny, small-boned and long-limbed, sisters, but my body just likes being a little larger. In High School, fully grown at 5’7.5″ I was a size 12 and 175 lbs. Sure, there have been times when I dropped some major weight. Like Freshmen year of college when I was on a seizure medicine that caused me to lose all interest in food (as well as people, school, work, and staying awake in general). I switched medications and gained the weight back. Later, this Rx was pulled from the shelves.
There were diets where I would practically starve myself to get down to – gasp – a size 8!! I even kept it off for a couple years, but my social life and sanity paid dearly since my entire existence revolved around weighing and measuring and calorie counting. It wasn’t worth it. Just recently I’ve finally understood what “the body is a temple” truly means. Our bodies are astounding mechanisms, full of scientifically wondrous faculties and created in the likeness of Christ. I want to go forth in life trusting it’s remarkable capabilities to signal fullness, hunger and cravings, and not screw up my metabolism with man-made numerical targets.
Today, at 33, I’m not sure what I weigh, but it’s probably right around where I was in high school. This body, this meat suit I wear, simply runs big. But IVF does not care if I am skinny – only that I am in good health. And in 33 years this body has never needed surgery or had a major injury. It’s strong, it’s sturdy, it never gets sick. Even my brain, born with faulty neurons and prone to seizures, has healed itself over time. Yes, I still wince at the sight of myself in a bathing suit. But there are times when I see beautiful definition and muscle tone. Thanks to the likes of the Kardashians and Niki Minaj, my butt and thighs might even be considered a good thing these days. At the gym, I may be one of the larger women in the mirror, but I can outperform them all, and that feels incredible. Yes, I am privileged (dare I say even thankful?) to experience my days on Earth in this 175-lb instrument, because look what it can do!
IVF is not for the faint of heart. Fortunately, I’m enduring this journey in my #1 vessel of choice. I trust this one I have, I’ve taken care of it, and I know it intimately. This body may never have great sex appeal or look good naked, it may always struggle to be “normal” according to the damned BMI index, but it is nonetheless extraordinary.
We got this, bod. I have faith in you. Injections, medications, anesthesia, stress? We can do this in our sleep.