No Pep Rally Here

After dropping off my ring & learning that I need a new iPod, I headed back to the ARTS Center to pick up DH's masterpiece. All washed and clean, I carried the styrofoam cup protecting the test-tube with pride. Goodness knows there wasn't anywhere in my purse to put it, and I sure as hell wasn't going to cruise around a huge hospital and parking lot with a big, white cup in between my tits.

I stood in line for the first time ever at Dr. T's office. With cup in hand. How sexy was I? Hhhmmm . . . wonder why I was there? :) When I asked the receptionist if she needed to send it back while I waited, you'd thought I'd offer her a sip of arsenic-laced tea. We both laughed. Kinda. I reviewed the lab report, trying to decipher it. All I noticed was low volume and low morphology due to lack of abstinence. Of course, I get concerned. While I'm waiting, I'm texting back & forth with my friend Sarah, who is my own doc on the side. (Well, she's not a doctor but she plays one in my IF life.) She seems less concerned than I am about numbers.

Nurse Amazing, who works for Dr. Terrific and with Nurse Excellent, escorts me back to take my blood pressure. Being that it was extremely high yesterday, she's telling me to relax and think good thoughts. She then begins taking deep breaths and says, "Think babies." I think BABY (singular!) but my bp is still high. That's what anxiety will do to you.

I am taken to an exam room - the same room where we saw our first and only fetal heartbeat so many months ago. I change into my pretty paper skirt and hop up on the table. Nurse A comes back in and asks how many IUIs we've had. I tell her that I've so many parties down there that I'm surprised I know the answer is zero. She laughs. Humor deflects nervousness for me, I suppose.

Dr. T comes in and tells me to assume the position. I don't even stare at the sign above me like I used to do. (I took the pic at the top of this post so you could experience my view.) Funny Dr. T has it hanging on the ceiling above all his exam tables. :) He looks at the numbers from the lab & says they look "GREAT!" The goal is to have 16 million motile sperm post-wash, and DH's proud soldiers numbered 38.9 mighty million! I was so proud of my husband and his workers.

As he preps the catheter, I ask Dr. T if he has any pep rally music or if Nurse Excellent could come in and do a cheer. (See again the above-mentioned humor deflecting nervousness.) We both thought I was funny, and Dr. T said that was a good idea. I then elevated my hips for about 15ish minutes, and he came in and said goodbye.

Feeling a little bit of disappointment for the lack of pomp & circumstance, I asked Dr. T where to go from here. I suppose he was a blond before he began to turn gray, my wonderful inseminator told me how to get to the exit of the office. Poor guy. Once I told him that I knew my way around his office fairly well, I was told to wait for a couple of weeks to see if AF shows. Yep, it was all that uneventful. However, as I was walking out, Dr. T said, "You know, you kind of have a glow to you." Nurse A agreed. "Maybe you're already pregnant!" he called out. I smiled and hoped that he was right.

DH called as I was leaving the parking lot, and I told him how wonderful he and his boys were today. I went and had some air added to my tires, got lunch, went home & ate. The cramping started soon after, so I had a nap. Now I'm just sitting on my ass with some cramping while wondering how I'm going to entertain myself over the 2ww.