Category Archives: IUI

Revisiting the Dildocam

As you may or may not know, I’ve been having some digestive issues for, oh, over a year now.  The latest in a long line of medical investigations into the problem was to go get a … wait for it … vaginal ultrasound!  Yes.  Yes I did.

So there I was in the office with the curtain around the door, being asked to get waist-down naked.  It was downright spooky, I tell you.  The tech was telling me the usual, “I’m going to put some gel here,” etc.  And I kept saying, “I know. I know.  I know already.  I’ve done this about a million times.”  I told her about the infertility treatments.  She told me that she had just signed up to start them!  In the same clinic where Trucker was conceived.  It felt cosmic.

It also felt so different to be doing this familiar thing without the pressure of popping out follicles.  Without the blood being drawn, or having to remember my donor’s ID number.  It felt like a relief.  And a little bit sad because that excitement of making the baby won’t happen again. (Though I DO get to plan a wedding, finally.)  And I felt a kinship with you, my struggling ladies.  I know how many of you are still waist-down naked with your feet up in stirrups holding your breath while the doctor counts follicles.  Yes, I do.  Once you have been there, a part of you never leaves.  Even when your baby is three years old and throwing tantrums because you didn’t let him close the car door that he can’t reach with his seatbelt on.

My thoughts are with you today, TTCers.  May you one day have a baby who sings.


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Filed under IUI, LGBT, TTC

The Donor Mark

My son has the likes-to-watch-sports gene.  He did not get this from me.

I don’t plan to point things like this out to my kids.  There’s this unspoken fear of the moment when we will need to address the fact of the donors in our kids lives.  There is also this urge to pretend since we don’t know who the donors are, that we can make them go away.  Part of me wants my honey and I to be the only important people in the creation of our kids.

The other part of me knows that the donors are important.  Not only are they important, but I feel like even though I don’t know their names or their adult faces, I feel like we live with them.  We know them better than we know our good friends.  I’m so glad for them.  I’m so glad for whatever circumstances lead to them walking in to the cryobank, filling out all of those forms, walking uncomfortably into a little room and producing for us the ingredient that would eventually become our sons.  I am confident that wherever he is, Trucker’s donor is either thinking about throwing or actually throwing a ball.  Cakie’s donor is charming someone at this very moment.  I’m sure of it.

The discomfort comes from knowing that the donors are a question mark.  Will the boys be driven to try to identify them?  If they do find them, will these men disappoint my sons?  Since I have two different donors, will the boys have two uncomfortably different experiences surrounding their donors?  I am sure that they will want to know them, even if we down-play their role.  Once they take a biology class and see the fruit flies and their eye colors,  once they read a study on identical twins, or venture into my grandfather’s meticulously researched geneology of his side of my family, they will want to know.

I know this.  But I wish I could take that donor question mark and stretch it straight into an exclamation point.  A sure statement, showing a strong emotion.


Filed under family, IUI, LGBT, my second son, my son, sperm shopping, Trucker

If I Could Live One Year Over…

On New Year’s Day (Happy New Year, my peeps!) I was chowing down on some serious black-eyed peas with some seriously wonderful people.  My dear dear friend and cook of said BEPs, Nethermede, asked this question of her pork-imbibing and vegetarian guests: “If you had to choose between waking up tomorrow and completely skipping the year 2010, or going back and having to relive one of the past ten years, what would you do?  And if you chose to relive, which year would it be?”  Having two small and adorable children whose lives I would not like to miss even a day of, I chose to relive.  But which year?  Hmmm.

I need to do one of those decade run-downs just to be sure I made the right choice.  This is really more for me than for you, but read on, dear reader.  And see if you can guess which year I chose off the top of my head.

2000  All I remember is that this was my first year teaching.  I’d been with my honey for one year.  I was in grad school at night.  The day I spent pretty much in tears much of the time.  My weekends were spent lesson planning.  I’m hoping most of those former first graders figured out how to read.  I certainly didn’t do much to help them.  The poor dears.

2001 I moved up to teaching second grade.  I was feeling very confident that first week.  On the fourth day of school, the twin towers fell.  It was the day I became an adult.  I spent the afternoon sitting with other teachers hunched over a radio, as the children innocently danced to “Take Me Out the the Ball Game.”  We waited, smelling the cloud of heavy smoke that blew straight to Brooklyn, we waited to see whose parents would not show up to get their kids.

2002 Umm. Err.  Can I maybe remember one thing that happened in 2002? Ah!  I finished my masters degree in education.  And I think I may have foolishly resolved to try to get pregnant when I turned 33.  Hah.  So funny.  Hooo.  My belly hurts from the laughter.

2003 I think my honey started to try to get pregnant.  I won’t say much about this, since she does not like me to blog about her.  I will say only that we spent way too much time and money on our donor choice.  Waaay too much.

2004 My honey tries to get pregnant.  We give up on the known donor, shipping fresh sperm from wherever he was at the time in his crazy academic job search, to the much more reliable, yet far more expensive sperm bank.

We bought our apartment!  Our first home!  That was huge.

2005 New Year’s Day, we found out that my honey was pregnant.  On the last try we did at home.  The day that worked was either on the first or third night in our new home. I was beginning to think it was my fault, somehow, that she wasn’t getting pregnant.  But she did.  And she immediately got very very tired.  This was my year of adjusting to being a non-gestational parent.  I took close notes on what I would or would not want to do in my own pregnancy.  I did my best to support her. I tried to cook her healthy food and ended up bringing her Wendy’s hamburgers because it was all she could hold down.  I was extremely happy and a little jealous.  On August 16, I became a mother.  Three weeks earlier than we expected.  By c-section.  And he was so little and so good and so very very cute.  My little sack of sugar.  My Cakie boy.  The rest of that year was a blur.  Lots of diapers and strange attempts at helping the Boobah sleep.

2006 My little sack of sugar’s first year.  I had been dying to try to get pregnant.  Now all I was trying to do was keep my eyes open.  I decided to wait until a few months after he turned one to start TTC, so the baby would be born around the time he turned two. [Chuckle.]  I honestly don’t remember exactly when I started trying.  But mind you, I’d been charting my temperature since my honey first started TTC.  Yeah, for reals.

2007 This was the real TTC year.  I did TTC for a year and a half.  But this was the year of desperation. This was the year in which many of the weeks were spent waiting.  This was the year I began to blog (hi, y’all!)  This was the year I gave up on trying at home and gave up on limiting my attempts to only one year.  This was the year in which I almost gave up.  And it was the year I found out it had finally worked.  I guess you can read all about it on this here blog.  On Halloween, we saw a ghost on the pregnancy test.  Trucker decided to finally show up. I was pregnant!  And I was a little more happy to be done with trying than I was to be having a baby.  It is true.  I admit it.

2008 The year of my pregnancy.  I was all glowy and happy.  I looked fabulous.  I felt great.  (Though I couldn’t eat candy for much of the year, which is just not me, I tell you.) People were lifting things for me and opening doors for me.  I didn’t have to TTC anymore.  I had lots to blog about.  I only had one child.  Until, July 11, that is.  On that day, my due date, Trucker showed up.  My water broke right after my mom told him via the phone to my belly to be born.  And again, the rest of the year is a blur.

2009  I have two kids.  I don’t have much to blog about.  I went back to work.  Though I didn’t want to do it, I’m so glad I did.  I started teaching third grade in September and I love it.  That’s all, folks.

So which year did I choose?  Can you guess?


Filed under blogitty blog blog, IUI, Labor & Birth, my second son, Post partum, TTC

Behind Door Number 2…

I got a kooky idea.

I was thinking about my friends Dakota and Mulberry, who are just beginning yet another two week wait.  I wanted to somehow make it celebratory, rather than stressful.  I know.  You can’t just do that, as evidenced by the terrible “Have a Happy Period” commercials.  But still.

How about we make a TWW advent (w/o the religion for those who can live without it… with for those who can’t) calendar?  That way, the 14 odd days counting down could be a little fun.

Day one should have a feather.  Hope.  Hope is a thing with feathers.

Chocolate should be involved.  Perhaps something to protect one’s boobs from too much investigational prodding.

What do you think the other doors should have?


Filed under IUI, TTC, Waiting and waiting and...

One Year Ago, Yesterday

I was at the end of my TTC rope.

I was ready to give up.

Maybe I would try one more time without drugs with a yet-unidentified fresh donor, but that was it.

I was ready to start begging my straight friends for just a little bit of their husbands’ baby juice.

I was so happy I already had Cakie.  Thinking about him being an only child.  We could send him to private school.  We could buy him fancy things.  I could get rid of all those clothes and baby things taking up space in the closet.  I was preparing myself to rationalize giving up.

One year ago yesterday, I had an insem with the doctor I didn’t much like.  I went alone.  My honey was skating on thin employment ice with the amount of time she’d taken off while we were TTC.

I was forced to take the whole day off from work.

I left the doctor’s office and bought some green tea from a coffee truck.

I walked through Central Park drinking my green tea, even though I was wearing new, rather uncomfortable shoes.  I walked to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I stared at Gala Eluard. I felt the cramps the whole time.  My ovaries had maybe even already released that egg.  My last-ever paid-for donor sperm was swimming swimming.  Some time during that walk through the museum or the park (at least I prefer to think it happened there, than on the subway) egg did finally meet sperm.  Finally.

Maybe only people like us celebrate the anniversary of conception.

I, for one, will never forget it.


Filed under IUI, NYC What is it about you?, the big guns, TTC

Happy Birthday to….

…my blog!  And my mom!

I won’t say how old my mother is.  She looks almost as young as me and her spirit is that of a twenty-year-old while I still sometimes trip over into worried grandma mode.  So happy happy, My Mama.

My blog is one year old today.  I thought I’d do what I’ve seen some folks do before.  I’ll give you my favorite posts by month.

One year ago I was getting impatient with trying to get pregnant at home.  I was a lot younger, I feel, than I am today.  Not in a good or bad way.  I just feel like a lot has happened in a year.  I decided to blog about it.  I think it was a good decision.  This blog and the folks who read it have become an important part of my life.  Though I’ve managed to pis$ some people off (including myself) with the blog, overall I’m glad I decided to show what I own.

In May I went to my first appointment with Dr. Mug– the man who eventually knocked me up, so to speak.  One post that comes up a lot from May was about how my neighbor and I were both on Clomid, so we called ourselves the WonderTwins.  For some reason beyond my ken, there are folks–lots of them– who want to know if Clomid will give them twins, or more nuttily, how they can get twins by taking Clomid.  So they google “Clomid Twins” and come up with that blog  entry.  But my favorite post from May was about Biology.  I had run out of my Cakie donor sperm.  I mused about why biology seems so important to so many of us.

In June I wrote my most popular post ever.  It gives me an ego boost, my dears.  And it really makes me happy that I’m writing my book finally.

In July I found my babydaddy…er — donor.

August found me driving back and forth from Wildwood, NJ to Manhattan several times while on “vacation” to get my blood-tests and an IUI.  Then, I soon found out that just because I act like a martyr, does not mean I get to be a  pregnant martyr.  You guys cheered me up.  Thanks for that.

September was a little crazy.  I did my first round of injectionables.  The timing was off, so I only had one good egg.  In other words, I gave myself an injection in the stomach every day for two weeks for no reason at all.  Then I got even crazier and became conVINCED I was pregnant because my b0obs hurt.  I mean, they hurt just like a pregnant lady’s b00bs hurt.  Now I know.  So I was walking around as though I were pregnant, touching my belly, talking to the “embryo,” etc.  Of course when the blood came that month it was a really bad scene.  I was cheered up, however by the arrival of a certain blessed star.

October was a very lucky month indeed.  Egg met sperm at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  How cool is that?

I didn’t find out about the eggy/spermy rendezvous until November.  It was weird.  I didn’t really want to tell people, once I knew for sure and I had gotten the pink ghost and the beta.  But you all were checking and checking and checking, so I had to let you know.  That’s when I pissed myself off. I’d blogged myself into a corner, so to speak.

This post is taking about a year to write.  I need to go lie down.  I’ve covered the TTC portion of the year.  Tomorrow I’ll write part II about my pregnancy.

Thanks for reading.  Have some cake.


Filed under blogitty blog blog, First Trimester, IUI, LGBT, My Book, NYC What is it about you?, sperm shopping, the big guns, TTC, Waiting and waiting and...

Karate Thoughts, Green Tea & Victorian Photography

This morning, while sitting in the waiting room, I started to feel like I was ovulating on the right side. I was alone because my honey could not avoid going to work being one of two supervisors. I knew it would be Dr. Otherguy aka Dr. Hasacomplexandpissesmeoff. On one hand, I was nervous because I didn’t want him to piss me off. On the other hand, I was relaxed because he had never tried to use the evil clamp on me, as had Dr. Mug. I also knew that though I have made a solemn vow to never let a tenaculum touch my tender parts again, deciding to use my karate skills if need be, I knew there was a slight chance that it might be introduced. I knew I could neither handle the clamp without my honey, nor could I control my rage and self-preservation instincts without her there. (I feared for the well-being of the doctor’s teeth.) I devised a plan. To avoid him pissing me off, which he does because he seems jealous of Dr. Mug’s far-better social skills, so he tries to sound better then him by insulting his intelligence — not something you want done to your doctor — I decided not to chat with him at all. I would speak only when spoken to. To avoid the clamp, I started to meditate and visualize my cervix straightening and opening. I’m sure both doctors would laugh heartily at my visualization idea, but it has worked for every IUI since the initial tenaculum one.

My plan worked! I did my best not to talk. I did tell him that I thought I’d ovulated in the waiting room on my right side. He did the ultrasound first and said he didn’t see anything on the right, but I still had mature follicles on the left. He thought all of my follies had been on the left. Then he told me that the pain isn’t actually the ovulation. The pain comes a while before the ovulation. So I was actually glad because I wanted some swimmers up there when the eggs finally released. I had been nervous yesterday because I didn’t have any ovulation pain. Ha! I’ve been in pain all day. Good pain. I like this pain. Unlike the tenaculum, this pain is productive and necessary. (I’m sure I don’t need to feel pain to ovulate, but I LIKE to feel pain when I’m ovulating and I’m trying to get knocked up.)

Oh, so long story short, no tenaculum, no karate moves done on medical professionals, no insulting of Dr. Mug. All-in-all a good IUI. Plus, I was forced to take the whole day off because my boss said they can’t hire a sub for half the day. So I found myself in Manhattan with nothing to do. For a mom of a toddler, this is a very rare moment indeed. As I drank my green tea, I decided that if I were truly about to pop out some eggs into a sea of swimmers, I wanted that act to happen surrounded by beauty. I didn’t get on the train. I walked through Central Park to the Met. There, I stared at people in photos taken in the mid 1800s, when cameras were first in use. Some of the people had had to sit still for ten minutes to make the photo work. I looked into the eyes of Gala Eluard, as painted by her lover Max Ernst, and remembered both an amazing love poem written to her by Eluard and Salvador Dali’s constant and devoted attention to her image. I walked around the museum until the stimuli became too much and I got an art belly ache. (I love museums, but I can only take them in small doses.)ernst1.jpg Then I made my way home.

Now I’m belly-down on my bed in pain — quite possibly getting pregnant.


Filed under IUI, my hon, NYC What is it about you?, the big guns