More Trials with My Twat (damnit!)

OK, here’s the deal.  We are about to hit cycle number 14 of this baby-making venture.  Clearly, attempts 1 – 13 were a no go.  We’ve been in this process for almost a year.  (Yes, I know that’s an awful lot of periods in a year.  Yay fricking me.  My ovaries are obviously in final overtime.)

Sooooo… this month we decided to try the turkey baster o’ sperm (that’s IUI for you scientific folks).  Keen and I have both done all the testing and for all extents and purposes we’re fine.  My hormones are all in place, the eggs aren’t totally rotten yet, and Keen has a nice high count and some good swimmers.  However, with age – on both sides – the chances of conception do decrease.  Eggs get a little old and overall sperm volume goes does.  (Sorry guys, you know it’s true.  At least your boobs don’t sag to your knees.)  Volume can be important because it’s like Indiana Jones, right?  You know that scene where the natives are dying off left and right, from spear traps and poison darts and falling rocks, until only Indy is left (or at least way ahead of everyone else)?  That’s pretty much the same scenario for sperm traveling the ol’ vag.  (Those vaginal traps are just brutal.)  Dr. Jones obviously hasn’t been making it, so we figure let’s try shooting some of the boys directly to the gold idol and bypass the Tunnel of Doom completely.

But no Clomid, man.  Clomid scares the crap out of me.

(True real life conversation:

ME:  I’m not sure I want to do Clomid with the IUI.  Would that affect the chances of conception?

OB-GYN:  Hmmm… well… I’ve never done it without Clomid before.

ME:  I mean, I know I’m ovulating.  And I just want one more kid, not twins.

OB-GYN:  Mmmm…

ME:  How many twins have you gotten from using Clomid?

OB-GYN:  I haven’t gotten… any.  (He sounds surprised.)  And that’s in ten years!

Long pause

ME: So you’re due… and chances are that would be me…

OB-GYN: With multiples!

And then he starts laughing.)

Anyway.  Me and Keen have been preparing for this to be the cycle where we rush down to the OB's office for some plastic loving.  (Which, really, doesn’t take all that much preparation except for counting days, peeing on sticks, and pondering important questions like should I wax?  (BTW, peeing on sticks?  Completely overrated.))  I figured I would hit ovulation around Monday or Tuesday.  Guess what I wake up with Saturday morning?!  A fricking bladder infection trying to start, that’s what!  I haven’t had a bladder infection in, like, two years!  All I can think is that I gotta get rid of it before I ovulate ‘cause I’m pretty sure IUI with a bladder infection is not a good thing.

So first thing I grab a bunch of cranberry pills to kill the infection.  This is my usual method of dealing with a bladder infection.  Sometimes if you catch it early enough (and it was early) you really can nip it in the bud with cranberry pills.  I slosh ‘em all down with water and then I realize… fuck! if I take too many I’m going to raise my acidity levels… and I’ll once again kill off Indy!

Damnit!

Then I start scrounging through the cupboard to see if I have any spare antibiotics.  I find a recent sample bottle, check the Internet to see if it can be used for bladder infections, and (score!) it can.  Slosh that down, too.  Then I start wondering if it’s OK to take antibiotics before an IUI.  (Hi, I’m the weirdgirl and I’m freaking out.)  Will that kill off sperm?  Will it affect ovulation?!  I sure as hell don’t know; I’ve never done this before!  I look up more crap on the web… find nothing helpful.  Finally I decide, because of course, I’m dying every time I have to pee at this point, which is every 3 ½ minutes by the way, that I’ll take the antibiotics for one day and hope it’s all out of my system before the IUI.

Then I think about yeast infections… and I swill down some acidophilus, too.

(No temples here; my body is a walking chem lab.  If my hoo-hoo starts producing meth will someone let me know?)

At this point, I’ve been chugging down water all day today hoping to equalize the entire environment.  Just in case that works.  And this whole thing is totally our fault because we tried cramming in a little (too much) extra fun before the “cut-off date” for the old build up of sperm.

Yes, I am blaming the sex.  Why you being so mean to me, intercourse?  Why?

              - the weirdgirl