“It’s Raining Men” was playing as I walked into Clinic One, signed in the requisite three times, and sat down to wait for my blood test.
There are two clipboards in front of the blood lab: one for cycle monitoring, the other for pregnancy tests. I would have been here, sitting at Clinic One on a cold Tuesday morning, listening to “It’s raining men, hallelujah! It’s raining men, amen!” either way. But instead of being there for my scheduled pregnancy test, I was there for Day 2 cycle monitoring. I’m not going to lie: I was feeling a little bit sorry for myself.
My pity party (table for one, please) continued as the woman drawing my blood struggled to find a vein. She tried in each hand before giving up, telling me I should come back after my ultrasound to see if my veins had decided to cooperate.
The radio was on in the ultrasound room and the ultrasound technician– yet another ultrasound technician (I swear there must be at least ten on staff)– hummed along quietly as she did her work.
After another visit to the blood lab, where the technician finally succeeded in drawing blood only after expressing her fears that she would hit bone instead, I went to sit in the waiting room. My second acquaintance was there with her partner. I sat with them for a few minutes, comparing doctors and donor sperm counts in a weird sort of “whose is bigger?” competition before being called into see Dr. Text.
The conversation was short. After around thirty years of cluelessness I finally know my blood type. O-… apparently I’m rare! This month’s plan is the same as last month’s plan– natural cycle monitoring and IUI. We discussed the possibility of a trigger shot, as the unpredictability of ovulation is a little bit much, but he doesn’t like the idea. Dr. Text believes, probably wisely, that we should follow our bodies’ leads– that my body knows better than an ultrasound when an egg is mature. So natural cycle monitoring it is: I’ll go back to Clinic One next Thursday.
Later that evening one of my best people– we’ve been close friends for over a decade– came over to our house to watch election coverage. Sea and I had agreed that we would tell her about our attempts at making a baby. In spite of what this blogging adventure might indicate, Sea and I can both be very private people. In general, we aren’t telling friends or family anything about this at all. I’m happy about this for many reasons, but it’s a strange thing to go through in near silence. There are two friends who know all (and read this blog), another who I see about once a week and update, two more who know that we’re going through the process but don’t know any of the details. That’s it. Telling this friend– let’s call her the Doctor– means that I’ll have somebody to inundate with endless texts about the minute details. And this brought my pity party to an abrupt end, along with the election results.
Here we go again!
Total Ultrasound Count: 10