It's like riding a craptastic bicycle

I was trying to figure out how to describe to a friend of mine how I felt when I started doing the injections and things again.  This is what I came up with.  I was really worried that I wouldn't remember what I was doing but it all came back to me pretty quickly.  I still have that nervous feeling, like I'm not really qualified to be mixing medications that I then inject into myself, but I guess if my doctor trusts me, I need to trust myself.  The first night I went through everything step by step but it didn't take long for it to become second nature again.  Like riding a bike.  Which is actually very fitting if you know me and my history with bikes.

When I learned how to ride a bike, I learned on the kind that didn't have hand brakes.  You just peddled backwards and that braked for you.  I loved that bike.  We lived on a hill so braking was pretty necessary and I'd go up and down, up and down.  Then I got too big for that bike and was handed down my brothers old bike that had hand brakes.  I don't remember who, but somebody warned me, very seriously, that if I squeezed the front brake side before the back brake side, I'd go flying over the handlebars.  So when I rode the bike after that, there was always this ball of nerves and fear in my stomach.  I worried that in the blink of an eye I could be face first in asphalt.  So I stopped riding.

That's pretty much in a nutshell how I feel about the whole infertility ride.  You try really hard to follow directions and do what you're told, but there is still that feeling that any moment you could smash face first into emotional asphalt.  Except this time there's more good at stake, for me anyway.  Riding a bike never brought me that much pleasure.  It was easier to just stop then to potentially have something bad happen.  But babies, that's another story.  I can't put into words how much my life has changed since Bean came into it.  I have a hard time even imagining what it would be like to be so blessed twice.