Today was The Big Day.  The day where we had our appointment at the fertility clinic to get a very thorough rundown of the IVF process, and to learn how to do, EEK!, shots.

I have to tell you, sitting in the waiting room at the fertility clinic is a weird, weird experience.  Half of the women look haunted, the other half look dazed.  I’m assuming the haunted ones are the people who are just starting out and who are feeling hopeless, and the dazed ones are halfway through the process and are feeling awful from all the drugs.  Either way, not a fun waiting room.  Just sitting in it makes me feel nervous.  It’s also strange to sit there and realize that we are not alone.  None of those women would be sitting there if they could get pregnant for free.  None.

When the nurse called us back, I was so nervous I thought I’d pass out.  Joey had coached me before we walked in, he told me to prepare myself; I’d probably have to practice an injection today.

I was like NO I WILL NOT, and he said that we could turn around right there, nobody was forcing us/me to do this.  But then I told him that was silly and why would we do something like that, because turning around was basically like sentencing ourselves to a lifetime of probably never having children.  Not a fun prospect.

I WILL stab myself.  And I will like it.

We waited in the room for what seemed like hours while the nurse did something.  I have no idea what.  All I know is that when I saw the large refrigerator in the corner, I started getting really worked up.

“Do you think there’s medicine in that?”  I whispered to Joey.

He opened the door and looked inside.  Then he shut it quickly.  “No, of course not,” he said.

I glared at him and looked in the fridge myself: it was full of medicine.  “You lied,” I said.

He didn’t appear to be too remorseful.

Then I noticed a large can of WD-40 on top of the refrigerator.  “WHY do they have WD-40 there?!” I squealed.  “Do you think they have to spray the needles down so they go in easier?!”

Joey looked at the WD-40 for a second, then said, “Of course not.  It’s probably for the refrigerator door.”

“I think you’re lying again,” I mumbled.

Then, fortunately, the nurse came in and for the next hour straight, she slammed us with calendar details, showed us the chart of meds we would be receiving in the mail, and explained the entire process to us.  She also said that I’m going to be feeling pretty much like…um, well, crap come about the first week in December.  All the medicine they’re giving me to stimulate my ovaries (sorry, boys, you don’t HAVE to read this) will make them get all fat and harden up.  This is going to be uncomfortable because I WILL BE ABLE TO ACTUALLY FEEL THEM.  Like with my hands, through my skin and fat and whatever else is supposed to keep me from feeling my ovaries.

That’ll be awesome.

Then the nurse whipped out an injection pen and showed me how the needle was really thin and bendy.  Joey reminded me how I used to do acupuncture all the time, and the nurse jumped all over that one and told us the needle was about the same gague as an acupuncture needle.  I beg to differ, it’s a little thicker, but it’s not by much.

After a few minutes of demonstration, the nurse put everything away and I never had to give myself a practice injection. Not one single time — take that Joey Woestman.

Then they whisked him away to get his blood type just to make sure we don’t have the warring blood types that cause miscarriage.  I was tested after surgery in May and they were able to tell that I didn’t have the antibodies or whatever, but at least now we’ll know for sure.

We talked insurance turkey for awhile with the business manager, and then off we went.

I just realized we forgot to pick up our huge packet of release forms down at the surgery center that we were supposed to get on our way out.  Dagnab.

And, speaking of turkey, we’ll likely be at the clinic on Thanksgiving Day, and the nurse told us they’d probably have food for us.  It really stinks to have to cancel our one Iowa trip this year (unless you count the whirlwind in July) in order to try to get pregnant.  We’re really bummed about it, actually, but if we didn’t do this now we’d have to wait until February.  And that’s just cutting a lot of things too close, and we didn’t think we should add this stress on top of Joey’s last semester, etc, etc, etc.

I just realized this is probably the most boring and poorly written blog post I have ever churned out.

Sorry.

I’m on information overload and suchlike.

Maybe tomorrow or tonight I’ll summon the brainpower to actually tell y’all about the craziness that will be forthcoming during the first week in December…when they float our prospective children through a tube into my uterus while Joey stands there and watches.

Because that?  Is crazy.