Oh, where do I begin?
After yesterday’s post, we waited throughout the day, our anticipation building. I was distracted as I taught. J couldn’t get any work done at home. It was just one of those days when we had a singular focus and it didn’t have anything to do with our students. We were both so excited and hopeful that our new plan was finally going into action.
Our midwife, C, told us in the morning that she would call after her last appointment of the night to let us know what she was able to find as far as catheters go. We waited and waited. I had a beer. We had dinner. We watched some television. I started to fall asleep on the sofa with a cat or two. Then the phone finally rang. At 9:45. C was on the other end, and she was telling me in my groggy state that there was no catheter.
She then related to me advice from her OB friend:
1. We just needed to get the sperm on the cervix.
2. We could use a turkey baster.
I nearly dropped the phone. C was going to come to our house with some kind of modified turkey baster to do an IVI–and too late at that. As any TTCer knows, turkey basters are wasteful and problematic even when you’re working with fresh sperm, but when you’ve got half a teaspoon of frozen that cost hundreds of dollars? Let’s just say it would have been laughable had tears not been streaming down my face. I thanked her for her efforts, let her know that with the frozen sperm and IVI, we needed to act much more quickly, and worked on stifling my tears. She wished us well, told us she would have the supplies should we need her next time, but that she hoped our baby spirit was on its way to us. She’s lovely; she really is. She’s just not prepared.
When I got off the phone, J was furious, and I was starting to cry. Because we weren’t doing IUI anymore, we needed to get this done now, and we were completely unprepared. We both calmed down, and I began rummaging through our bathroom trying to find a needle-less syringe that didn’t exist. By now, it was after 10:00pm. No pharmacies/drug stores were open. Think, T. Think! I remembered Safe.way had a pharmacy, so we piled into the car and wandered the aisles of the grocery store until finally we found the syringe. We also found a bottle of wine.
It took awhile for me to get into a place where we could do this. I just wasn’t prepared mentally or emotionally for the old fashioned inseminations. This time was supposed to be so much better; we were supposed to be increasing our chances. Oh, I was in a bad space. I wavered between crying and thinking–trying to figure out if there was anything else we could do to up our odds.
Finally, we got out some gloves, snipped the zip tie holding the top on the dewar, and pulled out our vial of sperm. I knew there wouldn’t be nearly as much as we had in the past, but neither of us was prepared for the teeny-tiny amount. J was particularly surprised and forlorn.
We went to bed with our glasses of wine, tried to get the syringe as close to my cervix as possible and depressed the plunger the centimeter it needed to go to get the stuff where it needed to go. In the past, we always made sure that this was done amidst some intimacy so that I could have an orgasm. Last night that wasn’t working though, even with our very best vibrator. All I could do was cry and lie there with my hips propped up while J tried to comfort me. And I rotated (rotisserie chicken style). I was able to rotate. But the orgasm eluded me.
And that is how our long, long break ended. Today we both woke up feeling like it didn’t even happen. It was all so weird and surreal and so unlike what we had planned. But we did do it, and we had two really great things going for us: viable sperm and timing. During Reproducing Genius Phase 1, one of those crucial items was always missing, and more often than not, both were (hence the lack of baby after a year of trying). I’d say our chances have increased dramatically, despite our loss of plans, despite our disappointments and the strangely sad insemination. Still, I’m not sure where that giddiness and hope went.
But here we are, rubbing our eyes and stumbling into our first two week wait in half a year. I’m sure it will hit me soon, right?