Tuesday, March 3, 2009
I think the biggest thing I've learned on this journey to fertilization is how important timing really is in the great scheme of things. Certain things have to happen at certain, sometimes very precise times in order to get the outcome you want; in this case a baby. I've also learned my time is not nearly as important as the almighty doctor office time, friggin' bastardmotherfuckers. I had a little repeat of Sunday morning today by showing up at 8:00 on the dot for an ultrasound and bloodwork only to have to wait six hours to hear the results. Because why SHOULD they call me back before heading off to lunch, right? (Insert string of more colorful expletives here.)
But! The ultrasound showed what we wanted to see: the follies (Lolly and Ollie) have grown to the right size - rock ON, egg holders!! There were also other things they pointed out re: my uterus that I will spare you the details from; I'll just say everything looked the way it was supposed to look. They also took blood to determine if I was ovulating or not and that was the biggie that would determine if the Big Day would be Thursday or Friday. In the meantime I came back into work and found out the rest of my work week is going to be fairly frenzied. Of course. I spent the majority of the morning wondering what I'll need to do when, all while waiting for another FUCKING phone call.
But this time I only had to stalk Monique the nurse twice this time before she called me back with our instructions. According to the blood test, I'm not ovulating on my own (big surprise; this is what I think has caused our problems all along anyway - TIMING!), but no biggie; that is why we have the hSG medicine chilling in the fridge for. Tonight at 12:30 a.m., Brian will shoot me up one last time. This will then cause the peak time for the IUI to happen 11:30 Thursday morning. I hung up with Nusre Monique satisfied I finally have a date and time to look forward to. I was sitting there, absorbing the moment when my phone rang again.
It was Monique, calling me back to urgently tell me we need to have sex tonight. Normally, this would not cause me concern.
You know how I keep annoyingly bringing up timing? At the risk of sounding like my mother and repeating myself like a retard, here again is yet another example. She explained that on Thursday they'd like the sperm to be "fresh," and even though they want two days of build-up, more than that would be considered, well...old. And I thoroughly agree; I don't want some stale-ass sperm up in my nice new eggs, oh hells no. I don't keep milk or library books past the expiration date; I certainly don't want past-due seed.
There is a small problem however, in that tonight we actually have plans. Social plans that involve other people. In fact, the schedule, or timing, if you will, is so tight, I have to sneak out of work a half hour early, run home (well, driving would be faster, har har), get presentable and turn right around so we can meet our friends back downtown at 6:00 for dinner. After that we're seeing a Beatles tribute band in concert, something I couldn't give more of a shit less about now, but that Delorme had talked me into buying tickets for a month ago. We rarely if ever go out during the week, but of course, of course we are tonight.
I quickly came up with an efficient solution. I called Brian and directed him to snap one out as soon as he gets home from work; the earlier, the better. I think it caught him a little by surprise, but after a week or so of being allowed no release shall we say, he didn't put up much of an argument. Or actually any argument at all. Which makes me think. The more I go through all this stuff, the more I'm certain God has to be male. In order for me to have a baby, I've been poked, prodded, injected, given numerous vials of my blood, peed in numerous cups, taken all kinds of weird drugs, gotten so used to stripping from the waist down I don't even care who's in the fucking room anymore and all this is BEFORE going through the wonderous joys of pregnancy and childbirth. Him? He's had to jerk off a couple of times. Which, not to be rude, but that is not really much of a departure from his regularly scheduled program, if you know what I mean and I think you do. I'm not really complaining, but hell's bells it must be good to be a man!
This afternoon/Tonight - Brian whacks off, we go hear Beatles music, we get home by 12:30 to inject me with ovulation drugs.
Tomorrow - I decide whether I will tell them at work I need Thursday off or not and if so, come up with some vague, yet plausible reason why I need to miss a very busy day.
Thursday morning - We leave home between 8:00 and 8:30 in order to get to the Charleston office by 10:30 at which time he spanks it yet again. An hour later Lolly and Ollie Follie finally meet Mr. Spunky and God help us all, our baby is made.
The next two weeks - I drive everyone insane until I'm able to take a pregnancy test.