The IUI didn't work this time around. It's a bummer, but it's not unexpected. The doctor said that there is only a 20% chance any given month... I'd like to think of it more like a 50% chance - it will either work or it won't - but this month it didn't.
I wasn't quite sure last night, so I took a pregnancy test. I got a digital one, because the little pink and blue lines/plus-minus signs can be ambiguous at best. So Drew and I stared at the thing in the bathroom, watching the little hourglass blink as the test was "thinking." Then suddenly, the result: Not Pregnant.
"Wow," said Drew. "That's a little too blunt." I had to laugh. I guess a lot of people are happy to see that they are not pregnant and would feel relief, or find the finality of Pregnant just as rude as we found Not Pregnant. But there was something to what Drew said. The test was so cold, so clinical, so unfeeling. No "better luck next time," or "try again," or "oops." No humanity.
On the same day, I found out that my childhood friend from Budapest lost her baby. She was 7 or 8 weeks along... I guess it was a "no baby" day all around. Her situation made me think of all the stuff that may still wait for us down the road -- good and bad. Well, honestly, I can't even comprehend all of it, but I am getting vague glimpses of the highs, lows, the madness, the hope, the giddiness, the disappointment... It is like a rollercoaster and I am just trying to hold on tight, close my eyes, and scream through the scary parts.
Showing posts with label sperm. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sperm. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Fertility Hilarity
Warning: over sharing happening below. If you are squeamish, turn away now.
Today was Operation "Turkey Basting" as Drew and I lovingly refer to a simple little procedure called intrauterine insemination. The doctor takes Drew's sperm, and when my eggs are all happy and ready, he injects the boys into my uterus. Simple. So today right around noon, I found myself driving down Route 1 between Saco and Scarborough with a small jar of "sample" between my boobs.
The morning started with several dilemmas: What to wear? I had to keep the "sample" warm and stable. I opted for a simple black plunge bra that provides enough lift and separation to accommodate the jar. Perfect. Another thing to ponder: Turnpike or Route 1? I had exactly 30 minutes to make it to my doctor's office, which on most days is enough, except for days when Saco decides to have the traffic of New York City.
I was lucky today and made it in less than 20 minutes. As I was walking from my car to the lab, I was amazed at how sort of nonchalantly I was able to walk around, knowing what was under my clothes. I even made small-talk in the elevator with another woman - who knows what she was hiding in her bra?
So, I went straight to the lab, where nurse Dolores asked me my birthday like, a hundred times. Then Drew's birthday. Then the spelling of my name, followed by the usual "oh, that's so pretty, where are you from?" comments. Come on woman! I've got a jar full of sperm under my shirt and we are discussing nationalities??? She finally got to the important part. "So, do you have the sample?" Well, yes I do. But what is the best way to get it out? There were other people around me and since I am still new at this, I was a little sheepish about handing some other woman my husband's sperm practically in the middle of a waiting room. But there was nothing else to do, but to reach into my sweater and pull out the cup. Whew. Boys safely delivered. Dolores never batted an eye.
By that time Drew was there too and we spent an hour in the waiting room looking at magazines. Note to self: If I ever do get pregnant, I have to stay away from these. It seems like every single cute baby picture is followed by some horrific story about sore nipples and hemorrhoids. Ick.
The rest of the procedure was pretty painless and speckled with inappropriate sperm jokes courtesy of my doctor. He is awesome. I won't know if this worked for a couple of weeks, but I hope that I will be able to find all of this funny even if I do have to do it two or three or four more times.
Today was Operation "Turkey Basting" as Drew and I lovingly refer to a simple little procedure called intrauterine insemination. The doctor takes Drew's sperm, and when my eggs are all happy and ready, he injects the boys into my uterus. Simple. So today right around noon, I found myself driving down Route 1 between Saco and Scarborough with a small jar of "sample" between my boobs.
The morning started with several dilemmas: What to wear? I had to keep the "sample" warm and stable. I opted for a simple black plunge bra that provides enough lift and separation to accommodate the jar. Perfect. Another thing to ponder: Turnpike or Route 1? I had exactly 30 minutes to make it to my doctor's office, which on most days is enough, except for days when Saco decides to have the traffic of New York City.
I was lucky today and made it in less than 20 minutes. As I was walking from my car to the lab, I was amazed at how sort of nonchalantly I was able to walk around, knowing what was under my clothes. I even made small-talk in the elevator with another woman - who knows what she was hiding in her bra?
So, I went straight to the lab, where nurse Dolores asked me my birthday like, a hundred times. Then Drew's birthday. Then the spelling of my name, followed by the usual "oh, that's so pretty, where are you from?" comments. Come on woman! I've got a jar full of sperm under my shirt and we are discussing nationalities??? She finally got to the important part. "So, do you have the sample?" Well, yes I do. But what is the best way to get it out? There were other people around me and since I am still new at this, I was a little sheepish about handing some other woman my husband's sperm practically in the middle of a waiting room. But there was nothing else to do, but to reach into my sweater and pull out the cup. Whew. Boys safely delivered. Dolores never batted an eye.
By that time Drew was there too and we spent an hour in the waiting room looking at magazines. Note to self: If I ever do get pregnant, I have to stay away from these. It seems like every single cute baby picture is followed by some horrific story about sore nipples and hemorrhoids. Ick.
The rest of the procedure was pretty painless and speckled with inappropriate sperm jokes courtesy of my doctor. He is awesome. I won't know if this worked for a couple of weeks, but I hope that I will be able to find all of this funny even if I do have to do it two or three or four more times.
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