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Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Such is the Art of Turkey Basting - Part 4

The first insemination didn't take. It wasn't more than a couple weeks or so later that I was tortured with my monthly cycle. On to round two it was.

This time we brought out the big guns. We weren't messin' around! We bought the little "pee on a stick to see if you're ovulating" kit. Sara administered a hormone shots in my arm, and I orally ingested another hormone called Clomid. Finally, there was the ultrasound to see which of my ovaries the egg was going to release from.

Now, whizzing on a stick is a piece of cake. Even the ultrasound was a breeze. The challenge for me was the darn hormones. The automatic assumption here is that I probably have a fear of needles. WRONG! I actually now have a distinct and, very real I might add, fear of menopause. Odd, I know, but the hot flashes these hormones created caused me to rip my clothing from my body. If I was at home and one of these little episodes occurred, my clothes were coming off (wife cheers excitedly in background)! I didn't care. It literally felt as if I were boiling from the inside out; as if someone were trying to poach me.

Once I had a healthy dose of pregnancy sustaining hormones in my system, the pee stick indicated I was ovulating, and the ultrasound of my ovaries indicated the direction that the sperm needed to be directed, the insemination was scheduled.

Again, we were ready. On our mark, get set, repeat ALL awkward steps from round one, pray, and seal the deed with a kiss from my wife. That was it. Again we waited.

We waited a little longer this time than the last and, when my period was late, we decided that it was time to take a pregnancy test. Negative. The results were negative. How could that be? I am never late with my cycle. Maybe it was just too early in the pregnancy to tell. Hmmm.

At about two weeks late with my cycle, I couldn't stand it any longer. The anticipation was absolutely killing me; killing us. I scheduled an appointment at the women's health clinic for a blood draw; something to provide firm evidence of "pregnant or not." Inconclusive. You've got to be shitting me. The results were inconclusive. Great.

The nurse said it might just be to early to tell. "Your body might be accepting or rejecting a pregnancy," she suggested. A day or so after that, I started spotting, then full on bleeding and cramping. It was the longest, most uncomfortable cycle I had experienced. Or it may have been a miscarriage.

In either case, insemination round two was an epic fail.

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