The first procedure

So, Cal was asked to drop off his specimen about an hour or so before I was to arrive for our first IUI. I think he found it humbling and comical to have to drop off a container of goods in a brown paper bag (the car seat as he called it). He was especially fond of the cute, blond receptionist in the office. She would giggle in response to his jokes and that of course made his day. On one occasion I remember him saying that he had to drop of “the kids at the gene pool.” The best, however, was when he dropped off the “carseat” and said, “number 4, 572, 364 has the sniffles. If it develops a cold, call me.” Of course, the cutie receptionist thought that Cal’s humor and wit was hysterical and it made her day. I felt myself feel a bit of jealousy to see him getting along so well with the receptionist and seeing her with that sparkle in her eye looking at him until I remembered that he was about to go into a room and watch the Doctor get up all into my stuff AND that I was literally getting impregnated  by another man. So, I let him have his harmless fun.

So, there we are in the procedure room sometime in November 2010. I’m nestled into that ever so comforting paper protector sheet, knees up and that stupid stiff paper shield that’s supposed to hide my womanhood. Really? Why don’t we just let it all out there? I mean, he has to look UNDER it anyway!

The Doctor has inserted the ever so comfortable speculum, which my charming husband refers to as the “duckbill.” Now I’m super exposed. The assistant leaves the room for a moment to get the nurse/specialist who has the cleaned, spun, and ready to fertilize sperm. There are about 30 seconds of awkward silence as I’m completely exposed with the Doctor seated at the foot of the exam bed and my husband to my left. The Doctor would not even GLANCE in my direction and instead chose to make small talk about the weather with Cal. Clever.

The woman walks in (actually, there are 3 of them) all clothed in robes, footies, the hair net hat thing and this long intimidating catheter/syringe looking thing. She says in all seriousness, “This is for Darby and Calvin Geller” then looks to both of us for verbal “yes, yes.” Whew, at least we got THAT out of the way!

So, in it goes. Right up the canal now the size of the Grand Canyon and thru the tunnel of the cervix. I feel a slight bit of tenderness, but nothing painful. Within seconds it’s over and the Doctor exclaims, “We’re done!” He set a timer and requested that I continue to lie on the table for ten minutes. What? No cuddling?

Cal is holding my hand looking ever so lovingly in my eyes. I know the desperation he feels and those thoughts inside his head, “please let this work.” I’m thinking, “swim kiddos, swim” and am praying that this will be it; the moment that our dream finally comes true. I ask Cal if he could find some soothing music on this phone to play for me while I shut my eyes and attempt to relax away my worries. He finds the perfect relaxation music: ocean waves. So, I close my eyes and listen intently to the swoosh, crash, swoosh, and then the occasional sea gull; squawk/caw, squawk/caw. I feel my muscles begin to relax one by one. Then out of seriously NOWHERE, in a volume level of about 8 out of 10, and in song to music I hear, “Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me!” My heart jumped out of my chest and I’m pretty certain those swimmers got jolted back toward the exit. We started laughing hysterically. I asked, “What in the heck was that?” He laughed and said he was using a sound board from his pirate themed haunted house for Halloween just a few short weeks before and hit the wrong button and that’s when the pirates showed up.  I was completely awake, no relaxation for me, and of course then I was wondering what all the Doctors, nurses, assistants, and whoever else was right outside the door were thinking as they heard that and concluded that they must have been thinking… “wow, they’re into some pretty kinky shit.”

We left and went on with our day. Back to work for both of us.