Saturday, March 2, 2013

The "Told Ya So" Dance

When last we met, I was patiently for ovulation to occur.  Morning after morning, I kept getting turned down.  It was like the 9th grade Winter Dance all over again.  I called Bonnie, my new best friend IVF nurse, and asked her what would happen, hypothetically speaking, if I didn't ovulate this month at all.  She gently broke the news that it would be unwise for us to proceed with the planned drug protocol before confirming that I can ovulate on my own.  We would just have to wait until I did, maybe even a few months, if that's what it took.  Harumph.

So, the morning-stick-pee-sigh routine continued for another week, to no avail.  But meanwhile, my body was sending me some pretty unequivocal ovulation signs.  I won't get into the lady secrets here, but if you're interested, check out Taking Charge of Your Fertility.  I honestly consider it an indispensable owner's manual for anyone in possession of a vagina.  Now, what's a girl to do?  On the one hand, expensive technological tools are telling me that I didn't.  And yet natural methods are positively shouting that I did.  My girl Bonnie knew how to settle this one: a quick blood test to check for progesterone.  I was warned NOT to get it drawn at my local hospital, since they send out their samples and take several days, but was directed instead to nearby Staunton, 45 minutes away.

Luckily, the next day was one of Rockbridge County's famous snowless snow days.  I headed out to Staunton, surrendered my bodily fluids, and THEN was told that they would send it out late that night.  Grrr.  More waiting and anticipation.  Luckily, I knew where I could get a killer eggplant parmesan sandwich.  What?  That's totally related.

That night I could hardly sleep.  Did I?  Didn't I?  I DID!  Naw, you don't know crap.  The next morning's results couldn't come fast enough.  When I finally got a call from Charlottesville, I was shocked to hear that they did not yet have my results and were wondering when I was going to get that done.  WHA?!?  My disappointment turned to fury a few hours later when the lab in Staunton called to say that they had messed up my blood work, something about a red top instead of a gold top, or something completely asinine like that.  Needless to say, Bonnie had to talk me off the ledge.  We decided that, even though it's far, I better just hoof it up to Charlottesville to get my blood drawn right on site and not by idiots.  As a perk, I had a good excuse to skip a faculty meeting.

I had hoped that the results would be ready within two hours, before the office closed, but no such luck.  However, I got the call right when they opened the next morning.  I evidently shouted, "YES!" so loud into the phone that my friend Susan came over to hear the "apparently orgasmic news."

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