ATerribly True Truthful Tale About IVF

Phew...okay, I needed a bit to get myself together.  Nick and I have talked and while we remain cautiously optimistic that we are pregnant...if we have to do another cycle, we will do it.   High fives all around, go team and all of that.  Nick also sent me the nicest, sweetest pep talk note ever...do you want to read it?  Too bad.  Geez, guys - you're already up in my ovaries' business and now you want to read correspondence between my husband and I.  Have you no shame?  I kid, I kid.

Originally, the purpose of this blog was to just keep you all up to date on what's going on, but for me...it's now become a diary documenting this process that I hope to one day be able to share with our child(ren).   In particular, I would like to someday be able to call upon that special gift that all mothers have...Mom Guilt.    I feel like going through IVF should give me enough Mom Guilt to get the kid to at least college, if not more.   I plan on playing the Mom Guilt card with wild abandon.  Don't judge me.  And in that spirit...I present to you... A Terribly True Truthful Tale About IVF.

Warning: the next paragraphs are about BODILY FUNCTIONS.  If you are not comfortable with BODILY FUNCTIONS (and if you are not, I ask...why are you here? and how are we friends?), you best abort now.

Early on in the IVF process, I remember a nurse telling us that during the embryo transfer, I would need to have a full bladder.  It was one of those things I filed under Not Very Important Right Now As I'm Signing Big Checks and Sticking Myself Repeatedly with Large Needles.   Most of you know, I have what could be generously be referred to as a squirrel-sized bladder.  And with all the water and coconut water (it's like a natural version of gatorade) I've been drinking, I practically wore a path in my in-laws hardwood floors to the bathroom.

I was not allowed to eat or drink anything after midnight the night before the transfer.  I (stupidly) assumed that this would make the whole having a full bladder thing easier.  It did not.   I was allowed to use the restroom at home, but once we got to the hospital...it was no go...literally.  We arrived at the appointed time of 8:00am for an alleged 10:15 am transfer.  By 8:15, Nick was scrubbed up, I was rocking a hospital gown (and booties!  the best thing about the procedure, other than, you know...possibly getting pregnant, was these delightful fuzzy booties with grippies on the bottom) and we had nothing to do to wait and...not go to the bathroom.

Nick entertained me with impersonations for the first hour but after that, I wasn't so much in the mood for talking, as The Pressure To Go Was Setting In.  I tried reclining in my chair but that didn't help, sitting cross-legged - also didn't work.  The minutes ticked away slower and slower but eventually it was 10:10 and I knew the end was in sight.  Except then it was 10:20...and then 10:30....and then 10:40...and then 10:50.  At this point, Nick is threatening to go pick a fight with the nurses (remember...Papa Bear!) and I'm telling him "oh, no...I'll be fine.  I can keep waiting." as I tense my entire body in order to not pee on the chair.  Eventually, Nick went to the nurses station to see what was going on. 

He returned with a shame-faced nurse who clucked at me sympathetically and told me she was so sorry, but it was going to be 20 minutes more.  I nearly fainted, but I realized I had made it this far, so I could make it 20 minutes more.  Then, the icing on the cake...she asked me if I wanted to use the restroom and 'just go a little bit'.  Really?  People do that?  That's a thing?  Just 'going a little bit'?  I'm not familiar with this urination technique.   I suppose I'm an all or nothing gal.

Word must have gotten out amongst the nurses about my amazing pee holding in ability because after not having seen a soul for two hours, there was a constant stream of nurses peeking in our door, patting my knee and telling me they knew just how I felt.  I don't think you do, ladies, I don't think you do.  My resolve to be strong wavered somewhere around 11:05am and when another nurse came into pat my head and look sympathetic, I lost it when she left the room.  The following is the dialogue that took place between Nick and I shortly thereafter.

Me: All of these stupid nurses are being so stupid nice!
Nick: Yeah, I can see how that would be annoying.
Me:  I hate them!  With their niceness!  (bursts into tears)
Nick: Would you prefer them to be mean?
Me: NO!  I want them to be cold, emotionless robots with no feelings.  Like Rosie on The Jetsons.  (sobs)  Niceness...is so...so...STUPID.
Nick: I'm just going to go see how much closer we are.

Finally, at approximately 11:20, we got into the procedure room and by 11:30, I was allowed to relieve myself.  Do you know what happens when you hold it for that long though?  It gets shy and doesn't want to come out.  I'm sorry...I know you're all very delicate and I hate that I have to be so brutally honest with you, but it's true. 

Fortunately, it didn't take long and then we All Lived Happily Ever After, Amen.