Implantation Day
Originally written 11/8/14
I've been really nervous in the days leading up to our scheduled implantation date. Conditions are not perfect like everyone wanted them to be, and I had to work on bringing to my consciousness the awareness that all this work we've been doing for years and the more intensive work that's been happening since June might result in nothing.
As V corrected me, "Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst"... I tend to hope for the best, but expect the worst. In my mind, that way I'm never disappointed, but of course, I am.
The school week went. by. so. slowly. and. I. could. not. concentrate. on. anything.
Perhaps because I was so serious this week, that was the reason why today's appointment was just ridiculous...or perhaps the drugs I was on...
One time, my brother and I attended the funeral of a family member we didn't know. I was 11ish and he was 8? It's serious. Our family is sad. They're crying. But then the woman who sang graveside, started singing in an Opera voice and, being the uncultured hillbillies we were, we immediately caught a case of the giggles. Graveside.
My Mom was mortified. We could not stop. Terrible. Unacceptable.
End Confession.
In the days leading up to today, I worked on clearing my karma and making things right in my world and with God. We arrived, and there was another couple waiting. The woman had her water bottle, so I knew they were there for the same reason. You have to have a full bladder for the procedure...more on that later...
The couple was watching Fox News and were very serious. Almost somber. I should have been like that, really. That's how I felt because it's a serious day. Sometimes, though, when you are supposed to be serious, the opposite happens.
I plugged my phone in to charge because I forgot to the night before, and V commented on how I was some traveler in the airport on a layover. Then in the form packet I had to sign, there were details like..."this procedure might result in pregnancy" as one of the side effect warnings. They had photocopied the other consent I signed awhile back that warned that there could be multiple births as a result of the procedure and I had put a circle with a dash through "triplets or more".
When the other couple left the waiting room, V turned on ESPN to start watching his Saturday binge football, and I read my US weekly...Jessica is having Justin's baby, y'all. I felt like it was fate.
When we got to the prep room, the embryologist came in to talk to us and show us a picture of my best two embryos. I was so hoping it would have been Ted, the guy I had talked to on the phone several times. He is so awkward and you can totally tell he works in a lab all day...with cells. I had planned a list of questions meant to elicit emotional responses just for my sick entertainment, but alas it was not Ted. Instead a very nice woman who was far superior to Ted, socially, explained the picture and we got to keep it! Score! Refrigerator bound! They asked us how many embryos we were putting back. We had kind of talked about it before hand, but found ourselves still unsure. They gave us some more information, and left us to talk privately. Instead of talking about that though, V made a comment that if this worked, we should Photoshop some shoes on the embryo and use that as our announcement. I mean we've all seen pictures of couples' wiggly baby at the 8-12 week sono...who can show a picture of their babies as embryos?! Us. Giggles began. By this time, I had to use the restroom pretty badly and might have also made a golden shower joke.
So inappropriate.
We finally made our decision about number of embryos and then this happened...
Seriously? Does wearing this really have an effect on anything related to the procedure?
I was laughing so hard, I was crying as I was walking into the procedure room. The nurse thought it was because I was having a hard time emotionally and offered me a hand on my shoulder and a tissue. I didn't even try to explain myself.
I got all in the set up and we began. Thank goodness V sat behind me and didn't have to see him because I was fragile and I could only think of things that were funny.
Without getting too graphic, after all the set up and positioning and the moment the procedure starts, the classical song they use in the background for that fresh vegetable commercial (Tchaikovsky) started blaring in the room. Everything had been so quiet, it actually startled me a little. Was it funny, yes! Then Vivek went and did it...he asked if the procedure was choreographed to music to which I did almost pee myself (my doctor's face). There is an actual cut in my hand from where I dug my nails in to not laugh.
It was ridiculous x a million.
Sometimes, I am so ashamed that I cannot take things seriously because I know it's a character flaw. But on this day, I was okay with it. There has to be something to lighten the mood in everything we've been doing. If you can't laugh about it, you would cry every day.
Might I cry later? For sure...many days...no matter the results, but that's why V's my husband. Because no matter how bad things seem, he is the funniest person I know (besides me). And laughter is the best medicine that exists.
I've been really nervous in the days leading up to our scheduled implantation date. Conditions are not perfect like everyone wanted them to be, and I had to work on bringing to my consciousness the awareness that all this work we've been doing for years and the more intensive work that's been happening since June might result in nothing.
As V corrected me, "Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst"... I tend to hope for the best, but expect the worst. In my mind, that way I'm never disappointed, but of course, I am.
The school week went. by. so. slowly. and. I. could. not. concentrate. on. anything.
Perhaps because I was so serious this week, that was the reason why today's appointment was just ridiculous...or perhaps the drugs I was on...
One time, my brother and I attended the funeral of a family member we didn't know. I was 11ish and he was 8? It's serious. Our family is sad. They're crying. But then the woman who sang graveside, started singing in an Opera voice and, being the uncultured hillbillies we were, we immediately caught a case of the giggles. Graveside.
My Mom was mortified. We could not stop. Terrible. Unacceptable.
End Confession.
In the days leading up to today, I worked on clearing my karma and making things right in my world and with God. We arrived, and there was another couple waiting. The woman had her water bottle, so I knew they were there for the same reason. You have to have a full bladder for the procedure...more on that later...
The couple was watching Fox News and were very serious. Almost somber. I should have been like that, really. That's how I felt because it's a serious day. Sometimes, though, when you are supposed to be serious, the opposite happens.
I plugged my phone in to charge because I forgot to the night before, and V commented on how I was some traveler in the airport on a layover. Then in the form packet I had to sign, there were details like..."this procedure might result in pregnancy" as one of the side effect warnings. They had photocopied the other consent I signed awhile back that warned that there could be multiple births as a result of the procedure and I had put a circle with a dash through "triplets or more".
When the other couple left the waiting room, V turned on ESPN to start watching his Saturday binge football, and I read my US weekly...Jessica is having Justin's baby, y'all. I felt like it was fate.
When we got to the prep room, the embryologist came in to talk to us and show us a picture of my best two embryos. I was so hoping it would have been Ted, the guy I had talked to on the phone several times. He is so awkward and you can totally tell he works in a lab all day...with cells. I had planned a list of questions meant to elicit emotional responses just for my sick entertainment, but alas it was not Ted. Instead a very nice woman who was far superior to Ted, socially, explained the picture and we got to keep it! Score! Refrigerator bound! They asked us how many embryos we were putting back. We had kind of talked about it before hand, but found ourselves still unsure. They gave us some more information, and left us to talk privately. Instead of talking about that though, V made a comment that if this worked, we should Photoshop some shoes on the embryo and use that as our announcement. I mean we've all seen pictures of couples' wiggly baby at the 8-12 week sono...who can show a picture of their babies as embryos?! Us. Giggles began. By this time, I had to use the restroom pretty badly and might have also made a golden shower joke.
So inappropriate.
We finally made our decision about number of embryos and then this happened...
 |
| just here to do some light dusting... |
Seriously? Does wearing this really have an effect on anything related to the procedure?
I was laughing so hard, I was crying as I was walking into the procedure room. The nurse thought it was because I was having a hard time emotionally and offered me a hand on my shoulder and a tissue. I didn't even try to explain myself.
I got all in the set up and we began. Thank goodness V sat behind me and didn't have to see him because I was fragile and I could only think of things that were funny.
Without getting too graphic, after all the set up and positioning and the moment the procedure starts, the classical song they use in the background for that fresh vegetable commercial (Tchaikovsky) started blaring in the room. Everything had been so quiet, it actually startled me a little. Was it funny, yes! Then Vivek went and did it...he asked if the procedure was choreographed to music to which I did almost pee myself (my doctor's face). There is an actual cut in my hand from where I dug my nails in to not laugh.
It was ridiculous x a million.
Sometimes, I am so ashamed that I cannot take things seriously because I know it's a character flaw. But on this day, I was okay with it. There has to be something to lighten the mood in everything we've been doing. If you can't laugh about it, you would cry every day.
Might I cry later? For sure...many days...no matter the results, but that's why V's my husband. Because no matter how bad things seem, he is the funniest person I know (besides me). And laughter is the best medicine that exists.
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