Not What I Expected..

I couldn't believe it. It was 9 a.m. on Friday morning. I was at my mother's house, enjoying a wonderful breakfast of soft boiled egg, crispy bacon and buttered toast. Why does everything taste better when your mom makes it?

We had successfully collected the *ahem* sample and gotten it to the lab. I felt really awkward because there had been people waiting there for over an hour, and I bullied my way to the front of the line, wanting to get the swimmers processed as soon as possible. That's when the trouble started.

My doc had given me a requisition for a sperm wash about two weeks earlier. It didn't have a label on it, so I didn't fax it in right away - which I usually do with all my requisitions. I had collected the label from the doc in a hurried appointment the previous day, and it was buried safe and deep in my purse. I had planned on going directly to my office, getting the req, slapping the label on it and faxing it over to the lab. I told them at the lab that the req would be on it's way shortly. They smiled, took the bottle, and moved onto the next person.

Now, somewhere between leaving the hospital and getting to my office, my mind wandered. I don't know if it was all the drugs they've been injecting into me, or the anxiousness of the day, or some deep seated refusal to get pregnant, but whatever the reason, when I left the lab, I decided I was hungry. Really hungry. I didn't want to go home, because I would get tied up in chores before work, and I didn't want to eat in a cafe alone, so I called my mom and tested the waters for a 'mom breakfast'.

Notice I did not return to the office, with the precious label and put it on the precious requisition and fax it to the lab? Yeah. Glad you noticed. I didn't.

I was at mom's when the blood drained out of my face. No, my entire system was drained. I felt a sinking horror when I realized I had forgotten to follow through. It's not like me, I am hyper sensitive to all my numbers, my levels, my timing, my meds. And when it came down to the wire - I totally fucked up.

Freaking out, trembling, I dialed the lab and asked if they had started processing the sample. They assured me that they had. And.. I asked... they knew it was for a IUI scheduled at noon, right? No, they said. There was nothing on the board for that day. They had started processing the semen for analysis. It was destroyed. Unusable. The tears started.

I didn't know what else to do. I called my doctor. I called the lab back. I got the main lab tech on the phone, imploring how upset I was, how stupid I had been, how I had spent nearly two thousand dollars in meds, taken injections, and had been trying for so long... how upset my husband was going to be.... After assuring me that the sample was truly destroyed, she went on to tell me that my requisition was only a backup... that the doctor was supposed to book the IUI in, and the lab would be alerted and ready for the sperm wash. There was nothing on the board. Nothing at all. She said they didn't know what to do with the sample, so they assumed. The guy never called to confirm anything.... my mess - up was one of three.

Then the doctor called, or at least his secretary did. I was supposed to get David back and get another sample. David, who was already over an hour away, on his way to work, and had already lost major brownie points for taking part of the morning off and his crew waiting around. David was supposed to turn around, drive an hour back, and manage another sample before 9 a.m.. David, who was really seriously annoyed at the news that this was being asked, I'd say pissed off, but he doesn't display anger towards me, so annoyed is about as strong a word as I can honestly use.

I wondered how potent a sample would be only 3.5 hours after the last one was taken. I wondered if my already work-stressed and sperm-released husband could even manage to produce enough of a sample to take to the lab. I wondered if the lab, which closed at 11 a.m. would even have time to process the sperm, if we managed to get one. I wondered, I felt like crap, and spent the next 45 minutes doing some serious beating up on myself.

After my strong spout of self-abuse, David called and said he was on his way home. He was going to give it another go. I couldn't believe it. I called home, and asked my teenagers to vacate the house for an hour, no questions asked. I told them they had 30 minutes to leave... they were more than happy to oblige, as long as I didn't tell them why David and I needed to be alone in the house. I figured that if my superman was going to try and pull this off, he would need total privacy and lack of distraction. Pun totally intended.

So we arrive at the house at exactly 10:55. I had put in a call to the lab, asking them to hold off on closing for half an hour. The head tech, who by now knew my voice, agreed, and again said it wasn't really my fault - that the doctor should have booked the procedure, and agreed towait for our sample.

The teenagers, (arg!) were still in the house. Still half dressed and half awake. One was putting on her makeup. I announced they had to get out - now. No putting on makeup, no getting teeth brushed. They had to LEAVE. David at this point is already in the bedroom. The clock is ticking, and I don't know if we even have a chance of doing this. The kids, freaked out and not wanting to know what was going on, left. No makeup, no clean teeth, just gone.

At 11:09, David was back in his truck and headed back to the pipeline. His bosses never even knew he was gone. I had a surprisingly good sample... and a new respect for David and his ability to FOCUS. I still felt miserable about cutting our chances so horribly, but at least we still had a chance...

The woman at the lab grabbed the sample as soon as I walked in and said.. there's not much.. but all we need is ONE! And so the process was at last underway. She said it wasn't as good as the first sample... but it was surprisingly good for such a short time between. They never did an actual count.

After three hours of wandering the hallway, my doctor, who had been in surgery, finally got time to perform the IUI. He said, men produce 15000 sperm a second, and all they needed was one. He said, if we didn't have a good chance, I wouldn't do this. He said, afterwards, go home and gestate.

So I went home, laid down, shook my head at the cluster fuck it had turned into, and hoped that we had a chance. Any chance. I figure... that even a few million really healthy, lively sperm, directly thrown on top of 8 beautiful, eager eggs had to give us more of a chance than normal intercourse with a normal cycle. I figure, we have as good a chance as ever. After all. It only takes one, right?