How My Bestie Has Shown Me Kindness During My Struggles With Infertility

There are so many moments of incredible kindness I’ve experienced in the last year of my struggles with infertility.

From my husband sending me flowers to my office the day after a breakdown over a friend’s unexpected pregnancy, to friends sending me flowers the day of my first retrieval surgery (what can I say — I like flowers!), it’s hard to pick just one. The moment that jumps out at me actually doesn’t involve my husband. Which makes sense in a way because although he’s incredibly kind, loving and supportive, he is dealing with this process the same as me, so he’s on a different level, so to speak. The moment of kindness that stands out to me comes from my bestie, code for best friend.

Although we’ve only known each other for four years, she’s been an incredible source of love and support (and laughs and malarkey, but that’s for a different piece) that it feels sometimes as if we’ve known each other forever. The very first night I had to start those dreaded shots came while my husband was traveling for work. Yes, we went to the office the week before and were shown how to do the injections — sub-q not intramuscular, but it’s still a frightening and daunting prospect, made even more so by the fact that I’d be doing for the first time this alone. What if I mix things incorrectly? What if I have an unexpected reaction? What if I lose my nerve and can’t inject myself?

I don’t like asking for help, but I realized I would need help that night. And not help like, “please inject me,” but help like I can’t be alone. So I reached out to my bestie and asked if I could bring my small pharmacy of drugs and supplies to her house so I wouldn’t be alone while taking the medications. The first night of injections happened to coincide with dress rehearsal for our dance recital. Knowing she’d be gone most of the evening made it harder for me to ask to infringe on her family time. But I swallowed those worries about being a burden to her and asked anyway. And then waited anxiously for her response.

I’d have to search through thousands of messages (we talk a lot) to find her exact response, but it was something like, “Why don’t I just come to your house after rehearsal.” And I cried. Cried with relief that I wouldn’t be alone and because she was willing to alter her plans for me without a moment’s hesitation. And because she accepted me. Accepted that my anxieties and stress levels were high and that there was no judgment. She simply did what she could do.

Together we watched those silly how-to videos (I mean, really, who’s doing those injections with a full face of makeup wearing a fancy cami? I prefer PJs), struggled trying to get that damn Q-cap out of its packaging (Village Pharmacy video fail!) and double-checked all the doses to ease my anxieties. We also celebrated with a mocktail recipe she discovered. Yet another kind, seemingly small (to her, probably) gesture on her part that made me feel things were going to be OK. That I could handle round one.

Now with round three approaching, I’m skilled with the shots and I don’t need someone there. But she’s still there because she chooses to be my friend and chooses to support me and my health issues, whenever and however she can. If everyone had just one person like my bestie, the world would be a lot less scary.

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