Mess, 7: Souvenir

Our mission wasn’t as successful as we hoped. With no feeling of it sticking, the painful 26^th day didn’t mean much other than general discomfort.

After taking a medicinal hiatus during our Hawaiian getaway and the month of April, we were ready to take our journey to the next level – intrauterine insemination.

I took Femara, as directed, got plenty of sleep, relaxed and in general, thought happy thoughts. I am a stubborn mule and I was willing my body to allow this happen. Failure was not an option.

On the morning of our IUI, we sat anxiously in a waiting room full of other couples. Let me tell you, sitting among seven other couples that are all going through the same thing is a trip! The men are all nervously tapping their feet as they are called one-by-one into the deposit room. I couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of “I know what you are going to do…” – like a school girl.

The other ladies must have thought I was crazy as I arrived with my many cookbooks and coupons in hand. Hey, if I was going to have to sit in a waiting room for an hour and pretend that this larger-than-life moment wasn’t about to happen, then I was going to do what I knew best – multitask. I prepared our weekly grocery list, clipped coupons and spent time in my happy place – surrounding myself with images of food prepared well.

As the Mister’s name was called, we looked at each other with this look of “here we go”. I know my stomach jumped, I can only imagine that his did as well. Off he went to the “depository”, cup in hand and a smile on his face. Okay, the cup and smile may be an exaggeration, but this is my story and humor is needed.

As the nurse prepared me and my room, she quickly pulled out a vile from her bra (“to keep it warm”) and asked us to confirm that it was our name. She got to work quickly and overall, the procedure was painless. I lay on the bed, legs high to the sky for thirty minutes following. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts.

The rest of the weekend was followed by much of the same and while they are inseminating you, they ask that you continue sex for the next three days.

I feel like that is just padding their success rate in case they didn’t get the job done. Go ahead and call me a cynic, but shouldn’t they know they did it right? Isn’t that what you are paying them for?

I digress. As we left the doctor’s office that day they gave us the vile – a “souvenir” as she called it. I still look at that souvenir on a weekly basis as it sits in the same glass jar we put it in that day. Souvenir, huh?

Part eight: waiting.

Mess, 6: Hawaiian getaway

Nothing seems more perfect than making a baby in Hawaii, right? Mister's parents did it, so it seemed like a romantic idea. When news of our week in Hawaii spread throughout our family, everyone followed the news with “you’ll get pregnant in Hawaii!”

Um, I don’t mean to be a cynic, but you do know that there is only a small window for fertilization to happen, right? And the chances of it being during 25% of your cycle aren’t the greatest. We were used to rolling with the odds (and against them).

I was set to ovulate during the first day of our trip – the flight & first evening. Now, the Mister and I aren’t exactly the rambunctious type, so joining the “mile-high club” was basically out. Not to mention, my balance, his long legs and that slushy blue toilet water was about as scary as it could get for me. What we didn’t add into the equation was the seventeen hour flight, five hour time difference and the exhaustion that would follow.

Having sex when you are jet lagged, exhausted and sticky (Hawaiian humidity) is about as sexy as humping in hot honey. We had to overcome this mindset. We were a couple on a mission.

Part 7: Souvenir.

Mess, 5: Different destinations

Source: snippetandink.com via Lea on Pinterest

With the new doctor came new medicines and procedures. Monthly ultrasounds to see whether not I was pregnant and monthly sadness that I wasn’t. This new drug, Femara (a breast cancer treatment), had less side effects, so that was welcoming and exciting. Hey, every little thing mattered at that point. I’d learned with the Damn Chlomid to take it at night to best avoid (or sleep through) the worst of the side effects.

In my March cycle, something weird happened. I didn’t feel quite myself and I honestly, felt pregnant. I couldn’t explain it, but I just knew. It was overwhelming happiness and striking trepidation all at once. Nothing could confirm it this early, but I…just…knew.

With an impending trip to Hawaii on the horizon, I focused dearly on it. Trying to not let my mind be consumed by the fact that I believed that I was pregnant was a stronger chore than my mind could allow. I’d find myself counting the days until I could confirm this.

On day 26, a knife-like stabbing pain occurred in my pelvic area. I could not stand up, I could not walk. I could only stand and endure the pain, the moment, the sadness. The next day, I didn’t “feel” pregnant anymore. Five days later confirmed my sad belief.

With nearly two years of trying, this level of sadness was the tipping point for me. Something different had to happen.

For the first time, the reality that this journey may end in a different destination than expected hit.

Part six: Hawaiian getaway.

That is not a capitol building

Growing up in Oklahoma City, I'm no stranger to capital buildings. In fact, I worked in the capital for three years during my college years and loved it. The gorgeous relics, the dated architecture, the seamless decor that looked like it took years to create - all of it equals warm, squishy love to me.
Fast forward over 1,200 miles across country and we're near another capitol city - Raleigh. Now don't get me wrong when I say this, the North Carolina capitol is historical and all - but that's it? It's so small and unassuming. North Carolina, that is not what you call a dome. And where's the stately columns and great lawn? This is not a capitol building in my mind.
It's another adjustment to my book of truths that I'll have to make. Adjusting your brain to think differently in your mid-thirties is a trip. It is surprising to me that after four months, I've yet to wrap my brain around Eastern Standard Time. It's an easy enough concept - you know, being an hour ahead of Oklahoma, but one my brain just cannot adjust to. I blame this partially on the fact that I work with all time zones from Hawaii to New York on a given day. Trees are taller, roads wind more, friends are more sincere and things are different than I assumed - not in a bad way, in a...different way. Adjustment is key, and who knows where this ride will take us.
For today, I accept these truths - things are bigger in Oklahoma and things are older in North Carolina. Yeah, my brain can wrap around that for now.