Our mission wasn’t as successful as we hoped. With no feeling of it sticking, the painful 26th 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?
No comments:
Post a Comment