We left the house at 6:45 yesterday morning to go out east to the clinic's site for reproductive procedures. It was strange going to a new location when I'm so familiar with our little branch. The place was in a very stark area, with nothing but corporate buildings for companies like Estee Lauder. The waiting room was modern and comfortable, and much larger than our local site. We had been told to arrive at 7:30 and that the "specimen" wouldn't be thawed, washed, and prepared until we had gotten there so that none of its shelf life would be wasted. So we patiently and nervously watched "The Today Show" after checking in. I got called back once by accident, because they assumed out of the four people in the waiting room, there was only one Rachel, and they didn't call out a last initial (and the correct Rachel must have been in the bathroom or something). They had me all set up to take blood when the woman said she wanted to verify everything. She said the doctor's name (wrong) and then asked what I was there for before double checking my last name and realizing her error. She was mortified, so I probably shouldn't have joked, "No one else's embryo is in me, though, right?" Back out to the waiting room I went, and she came back out a few minutes later to apologize yet again and to say they almost ALWAYS call the last initial and ohmigosh I'm so sorry.
Eventually we were called back to verify the vial of sperm. The guy that took us back was in a white lab coat, and he took the vial out of the little tank, with the dry ice visible in the air. It was so labby and scientific that my inner nerd got really excited. It was just cool to me. He had me verify the donor number and bank name on the vial, verify that it matched my form, and then sign to it. Then we sat in the waiting room again while they washed it and separated out the super motile sperm. (I felt giggly at the idea of the sperm getting a "bath" and preparing for their job!) We got called back to the same area a second time to verify again that it was our vial, and then it was handed over to me to carry across the building to the insemination rooms. It felt a little odd to be carrying this tiny, warm vial of sperm that was about to go in me! I guess they want to make sure there is absolutely no opportunity for it to be out of your sight and for you to later accuse them of malpractice. I was even instructed to put it myself into the "warmer" - a little box of about twenty little holes that the vial fits right into.
The nurse practitioner was very kind, but I did wish it was someone I knew already doing the procedure. I got into the stirrups just like I have every morning for the past few days, and quite a bit in the months before, and whispered a "Shehecheyanu" before the nurse came back in. She did a transvaginal sonogram first and said that the follicle had not yet collapsed and was at 19.5mm. (So I went from 17 on Monday to 18 on Tuesday to 19.5 on Wednesday - not bad progression, considering most people's follicles are at 20-22 when they ovulate.) Apparently after the egg is released, the follicle collapses and is no longer visible. The Ovidrel (hcg trigger injection) had only been in my system 12 hours, not the recommended 24-36, because I had surged a little earlier than they expected and was informed less than 24 hours prior to undergoing IUI. Having just taken the Ovidrel the night before and having a follicle at 19.5mm meant that I had not yet ovulated but that it was very imminent. So they recommended a second IUI the next morning so that there would be living sperm in me long enough to catch the full lifespan of the egg at whatever point it released - "if you have another vial and if you can take the time to come in again." I can't imagine saying, "No, I don't want to be late to work so I'll just do it today." Once over $3000 is sunk into a procedure, I'm in it all the way! Let's get this done!
After the sonogram, she put in the speculum (ugh) and swabbed my cervix to make sure it was clean and clear (ugh) before inserting a long, skinny catheter through my cervix and into my uterus (ughhh!). None of this was comfortable, but only the poking through my cervix was actually painful, and that was very minor, like a pinch. (I learned that your cervix is soft and open when you're ovulating, so if it hurts a lot and bleeds, you're probably being inseminated at the wrong time.) From there it took about ten seconds to inject the sperm and then pull the catheter and speculum out, and holy cow it was over already. She told me to lay there for a few minutes and she'd come back. Then she came back with post-IUI instructions which the PA had faxed over. She had written on it the date of the first IUI, and then under "second" she wrote, "if follicle not collapsed, 3/13/14". I guess if someone is willing to do a second no matter what, just a date would be there, but she made it clear that I only wanted a second if it was actually recommended and would be useful. (No need to throw away a $500 vial of sperm.) Then under that were my two follow-up dates: seven days later for a progesterone check, and fourteen days later for a blood pregnancy test. At the bottom she had written, "Good luck, Rachel!" with a smiley face.
We left and got breakfast to take home. We were home by 9:30, and I realized I could easily have gone into work late if needed, but was so happy we took the day off to spend together. Even though we knew it was silly because the sperm was already directly in my uterus and didn't need the help of gravity to make its way there, we still both felt the urge to have me laying down for a while and taking it easy. I put a pillow under me and lay on the couch, thoroughly enjoying my four-cheese souffle. Nicole and I were giddy all morning, talking and dreaming about our baby, the idea of which we shouldn't be attaching to already but we did. We are.
Then Nicole started getting irritable because one of our students (the ones we have had since September to help bring in extra income for babymaking expenses, which I wrote about in Opening Our Home) had stayed home from school and was just bustling around upstairs. She wanted us to have "just us" time, which we had expected to have in the middle of the day. So she spontaneously suggested getting a hotel out east near the clinic so that we could just be together and also be close the next morning. I eagerly agreed, and we packed a bag, left dinner for the boys, and headed out in the early afternoon. We had dinner out and then just spent hours together before going to sleep early. It was a lovely, beautiful, romantic, and relaxed day, and I love that if this cycle works, we will have spent our conception day like this.
Oh, one other detail I neglected to mention: I felt ovulation twinges about five times that day, starting mid-morning and going until late afternoon. I've felt ovulation twinges before, it's something I experience in general, or else I might have thought they were imagined. They were also stronger than usual, and most definitely on the right side. I got excited thinking the Ovidrel had finally kicked in and my egg must be on its way. Nicole and I kept trying to get reassurance from each other: "It has to work. It's working, right? I know sometimes it doesn't...but it has to be, why wouldn't it be!"
This morning we went through the same routine, but we were seen more quickly this time - and were much less nervous! This time I treasured carrying the little vial back with me, cupping it in my hands to make sure it stayed warm on the journey. This nurse practitioner was even friendlier than the first. She was so, so warm and sweet and I immediately felt comfortable. And boy was she quick! I practically blinked and it was over. Again Nicole and I went home and enjoyed the day together.
In my post from two years ago entitled Medical Romance, I spoke about how the idea of conception had become more about a medical process and I'd let go of the need to make it romantic or sexual. I have to say that the reality of it was very different than how I'd envisioned - we had two full days of romantic and sexual around the (fingers crossed) conception of our baby, even if that's not what led to biological conception. And it all felt so connected because all we could think about was how much we love each other and how much we hoped for a baby to grow our family.
I'm not even trying to protect myself from disappointment anymore. Honestly, I don't think there's anything I could do or any way of forcing myself to think that could keep me from being disappointed if the pregnancy test is negative. So I'm going to let myself enjoy the excitement and the scary attachment we are already feeling. Nicole started out more cautious, but by today was leaning over to kiss my abdomen as I passed by her on the couch. Oh we are in deep.
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