Who knew procreation could be so dangerous?
Yesterday we went and had the third (and final) IUI. Being old pros by now, the nurse pretty much told us afterwards, you guys know the deal - but don't forget intercourse tonight or tomorrow can only help. Considering I'd just been shot full of the same stuff Manny Ramirez just got in trouble for (Who knew Hcg can both kickstart ovulation and also help prevent revealing steroid use?) (Well, I guess Manny knew that but I didn't), I was more than happy to follow doctors' orders this morning.
Fastforward to post-coitus. Brian gets up and leaves the room, headed toward the bathroom.
Well, first some backstory that will hopefully help justify my idiocy a little: After the IUI, while you're sitting in this neat dentist-type chair, they pull out a little section at the bottom of the chair that tilts your pelvis back and you lay like that for 15 minutes while your husband talks to you about doing a spreadsheet for him to help him with starting his new job next week. Or at least that's the way it works for me. You also send up a little prayer, going "Please, God - really. This time, really let those swimmers find the right place; just one out of the 251 million would be great." And then you get up, pay a bunch of money, drive two hours home and sleep the rest of the day.
Anyway, this morning. We attempt making a baby the old fashioned way and after the polite amount of time, Brian leaves the room. Sidebar: I know there are people who do the whole cuddling and/or romantic stuff after sex, but maybe those people haven't been together for a decade or more? Me, I'm ready to move on to the next thing (usually getting a glass of water) and I'm glad he is too.
But today I decided to put forth some extra effort and figured if medical professionals suggest propping my tweeter up in the air, wouldn't a handstand would be even better? Sure it would! Sorry to be so graphic, but this was the scene: me, wearing a t-shirt and nothing else. I prop up on my hands at the headboard and somehow swing my legs up and balance my feet against the wall. And here was my mistake. Totally forgetting to take into account the dog and how very interested he always is with whatever I'm doing. I barely got into position when he quickly leaped onto the bed and started licking my face and up my nose. I couldn't yell at him because of how hard I was laughing and before I knew what was happening, I lost my balance, heard a loud cracking noise and me, the dog and the front portion of the bed went crashing to the floor.
Brian from the other end of the house: "What the hell was that?"
Me: "I just broke the bed."
Dog: *Flies to the other end of the room and stares at me while tilting his head inquisitively*
Brian's pretty sure he can fix the bed, but he's asked that no matter what happens with me getting pregnant, from now on I only practice gymnastics outside.