The Inseminator

We did an IUI procedure this morning. No one told us that we had to abstain for 24-36 hours before, so D's semen volume was about half of what it should have been ("the other half wasn't wasted," the doctor said.) but the percentage of motile sperm was extraordinary (a fact that D is very proud of), so the doctor said that this made up for the lack of volume. We had to wait 45 minutes while they "washed" the sperm, so because I hadn't done that level of planning, D had to run off to work. I went to get a yogurt from Starbucks as a prophylactic against the impending yeast infection likely to follow the super-dose of doxycycline that I had to take the day before, the day of, and the day after the insemination.

The procedure itself was as uneventful and painless as all of the online information I read described it to be. The doctor used "the inseminator," (package pictured above) which was a syringe with a flexible catheter attached. She used a speculum, and then urged the catheter up through the cervix, which she said was "hiding." (They say that about my left ovary sometimes, too. Weird.) She told me as she was inserted the washed and concentrated sperm, and then she turned out the lights and told me to take a little nap for about 20 minutes. But my mind was racing and I started worrying about whether the seepage was D's sperm saying "oh, no you didn't!" and rushing back out because they didn't like the egg for some reason. I wanted to jump up from the table and ask someone, but I stayed still--if not calm. Then I started worrying about whether they'd forget me in there, and the fact that I had to get to a meeting by noon (it was already at least 1030 am). I spun the computer screen that was in reach towards me and it appeared to be 10:50, so I figured I would give them ten minutes to come and get me before I got up and got dressed. No one came to get me, so I just got myself ready and on my way out, I asked about the seepage and was assured that it was completely normal. (I didn't believe it, though, so googled it as soon as I could. It's fine.)

So, I don't want to jinx anything, but I have to say, if we're not successful this month, I have a list of things to remember from next:

1. Have sex 36 hours before the IUI so that the sperm is fresh, but abundant.

2. Build in enough time for the partner to be there.

3. Take your iPhone to the table so you can time how long you've been laying there, and have something to distract you with (maybe even update Facebook while laying on the table).

4. Take the day of the IUI off so you don't have to rush back to work.

5. If you do rush back to work, make sure you don't jump on the train going the wrong way, start reading, and not realize that you're in Queens until you're like, halfway into Queens half an hour before your meeting starts.

Offbeat Mama

I just read an amazing blogpost on Offbeat Mama. The founder of Offbeat Bride, the book and accompanying social networking site that helped me keep my sanity during our year-long wedding planning process, started Offbeat Mama, right around the time of our wedding last May. I check back every now and then to see if she creates a feature, like the Waiting Room on the Offbeat Bride Tribe website, for women who are trying to get pregnant. I don't think she did (yet), but I did find this post, by Ariel, the founder herself. She introduces her own story of problems conceiving with a video by a woman who poses a series of "what if" questions...questions that have been swirling around in my mind about infertility for the past year. I have been searching for something to read, something that I could identify with, around all of this for the longest time. My husband is so certain that it will all work out in the end, he insists on speaking in terms of "whens" as opposed to "ifs." Ariel's story was poignant, and scary . . . I hope I only have to go partway through the course of action she had to take in order to become pregnant. But I've already gone farther than I thought I would in order to conceive.

Two parts of Ariel's post particularly resonated with me:

the weight of the trying and failing got heavier and heavier. After a year of trying to conceive, it's not so much fun. It's depressing. It starts to mess with your head. I started feeling like a core part of my body had become an untrustworthy stranger. A breech of trust with your own body is emotionally brutal.

And this one, which describes so many things in my life about which I've harbored fear and loathing:

IVF was this terrible awful procedure that I'd invested a lot of fear in. It just didn't fit with my identity — who's heard of offbeat infertility? Offbeat IVF? Pshaw. It was the expensive invasive terror that desperate people indulged themselves in. It was like gambling: this thing that you keep tossing money at hoping that this time you'll win but ultimately the house always wins and you always lose. Of course you lose. It makes you crazy, and worst part? It doesn't even work most of the time.

. . .

What I want to say is this: I was wrong. I invested years of my life living in fear, seeing something (in this case Western fertility treatments and especially IVF) as the awful boogey man in my hippie closet, the terrible admission of defeat that would forever turn me into a person I hated myself for being. Ultimately, I was wrong. This makes me wonder ... what other massive fears of mine are completely unfounded? What other things that I see as the worst WORST case scenario could actually lead me to a place of profound happiness? What other paralyzing grief and fear could I release?

Hysterosalping-o-what??

Hysteria After a tumultuous weekend, I feel like a stereotypical woman who, at the turn of the century, was diagnosed with hysteria. I got my period early Sunday morning and completely freaked out. My reaction to finding out our July attempt was not successful was very different from last month--I was totally sad, blamed my partner for not trying hard enough and being not as concerned as me, and I was angry about everything: I was angry that he was on the conputer playing video games, angry that he wasn't helping me around the house, and angry at everything he did. I should have been put down with a horse anesthetic.

Dictionary.com defines hysterical this way:

hys·ter·i·cal

   /hɪˈstɛrɪkəl/ Show Spelled[hi-ster-i-kuhl] Show IPA

–adjective

1. of, pertaining to, or characterized by hysteria.

2. uncontrollably emotional.

3. irrational from fear, emotion, or an emotional shock.

4. causing hysteria.

5. suffering from or subject to hysteria.

6. causing unrestrained laughter; very funny: Oh, that joke is hysterical!

---

Origin:
1605–15; < L hysteric ( us ) hysteric + -al¹

1610s, from L. hystericus "of the womb," from Gk. hysterikos "of the womb, suffering in the womb," from hystera "womb" (see uterus). Originally defined as a neurotic condition peculiar to women and thought to be caused by a dysfunction of the uterus.

He didn't deserve my ire; and I shouldn't have let myself go off the deep end either.

Take steps; take charge. That's what I did on Monday morning.

I made my annual OB/GYN appointment and asked about a procedure called a hysterosalpingogram that a friend recently told me about. Dye is inserted into the uterus and fallopian tubes to determine if the passages are clear; and apparently, there is a slight increase in fertility after the procedure. I want it. My doctor called me back and told me that since we'd only been trying really on the right schedule for two months that he wouldn't immediately advise me to do it. He suggested waiting for two more months, sending D off for sperm analysis, and being persistent. And patience. He didn't recommend patience, but I think patience is in order. Even though I feel the clock is ticking.....

On the kitten front: D's friend brought over our one-eyed kitten to see if she got along with our existing cat. Things seemed to go well. Kitty Coco (the one-eyed one) will have her sutures taken out next week, and then, if I can get D to agree, we will bring her home.

So many babies!

Everywhere I look, people are having babies. I was worried that I'd be a little depressed about this, but I'm not so depressed. Just kind of thinking we really ought to get down to business. This is a picture of colleagues from work. There's a joke going around the office that just being in the office makes you susceptible to pregnancy. I certainly hope that's the case!