Done with love

It was done with love, but it still feels like crap. Hubby injected last night's #47, smoothly, safely, calmly. Well he was, I was a jumpy wreck. Told him I would give explicit instructions, he was to repeat them back, and if I felt at any time he was not paying attention or not taking it seriously enough, I was going to pull the plug on the whole operation! "I wouldn't have it any other way" he replied. Good. Ok. Damn straight. Having assured my voice, my choice, my power, we giggled, we laughed, went through the drill, then in the needle went. It was great... until about 10pm, when the juice hit, the achenes started, and the head pounded out its penance. Ahhh, the memories.