Waiting

This is a time of waiting. I'm getting accustomed to waiting. Back in the fall, when I first decided to do this, I thought, "Okay! Let's get the turkey baster out get inseminated." That was before I learned about doctors, waiting lists, requirements and tests. Oh my. The tests. 

But turkey baster day is arriving soon. Possibly even this month. Last month I didn't ovulate until very late in the cycle, so I'm crossing my fingers that eggs will be released at the proper time and voice mails will go to the proper people. Really, I don't have nearly as much control over this as I would like. Older, wiser people tell me this is a mere teaser when it comes to having children. I will look back on these as the days when I had perfect control in my life. But I can still dream, and I am.

In the mean time, the weather has been springlike and beautiful. I walk in the evenings and soak up the sun. Seeing beyond the gloom of winter gives me hope and optimism. The anxieties over whether this is a good decision, whether my nest egg is big enough, my job secure enough, my family supportive enough just melted away. This is right. 

Medical Communication

A friend warned me not to let the fertility specialists get under my skin. She said, "They're a little distant and impersonal." I should have written it down and kept it with me. Today was one of the days I spent on the phone with a nurse for the specialist. They wanted to remind me to get an HSG and to get my progesterone test. They also wanted me to get my infectious disease blood work (which they've taken several times since mid-January).

Finally, I was able to speak to a nurse on the phone -- not just voicemail. She said that they didn't really know which lab work had been done because they didn't have my charts. "Your charts are with Doctor." They're going to check. I have my fingers crossed. Since this nurse was fairly forth-coming about the communications problems in her office, I asked whether I really need to meet with the psycho-social specialist. "Doctor," as her staff calls her, specifically said she didn't see any reason for me to have that appointment. I've got my fingers crossed that I'm off the hook for that too. 

In the meantime, I've got to figure out a way to communicate with the staff that doesn't involve eight phone calls a day. My stress increases with each phone call. Plus, "psycho-social" and "infectious diseases lab" aren't things I like to say once let alone repeatedly in the office. For my Valentine's Day gift to myself, I'm not going to procrastinate one minute longer. I'm filling out the paperwork for the specialist who works in town. If it isn't better than this office, at least I'll feel as if I had a choice. 

Thank goodness I can dream of knitting baby booties. It makes it all better somehow.

Finding Daddy

One of the donors stood out from the others. Aside from being healthy, having a good family medical history and sharing my blood type, he's a got math skills. My math skills are functional: the checkbook balances and simple interest is not insurmountable. Mathematical brilliance is another subject entirely. It would be a good balance to my language skills. The description was of a kind, reserved, goal-oriented person who got a 32 on his ACT math score. 

Early in the process, I decided not to read the donor essay. They were kind, clumsy and sometimes a little judgemental. They read as if they were written by 19-year-olds who were away at college, which, come to think of it, they are. The grammar and punctuation weren't precise, and I can get riled up about apostrophes. Realistically, apostrophes don't correlate to genetic material.

This donor seemed so right, and I took a chance with some insight into his personality. His answers to the form questions were appropriate and reasonable. He even used a semi-colon correctly. I decided to overlook the improperly inserted comma. He's only human, right?

Whoa! Details.

It feels like some progress is being made. After waiting for an appointment and waiting for the next cycle, tests are being done. The blood draws aren't too bad. The HSG was supposed to be a "go to work" afterwards test. It hurt. I hurt. I spent the day curled up in bed feeling like a wuss. One of my friends who is normally has beautiful manners and wouldn't dream of hurting another person's feelings says she told the doctor, "Fuck you." after her procedure. I didn't say much. I just wanted to go home and hide. 

Sperm ordered. Check.

Sperm shipped. Check.

I'm waiting for a few more tests. If they go well, I start trying next month! The HSG did give me reason to Google "artificial insemination pain." The sites report the same mild cramping and discomfort that is expected with the HSG. I plan to loaf on those days.