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Snug as a bug in a uterine cavity

October 21, 2010

I had been dreaming about this opportunity for months (yes, some people dream for years, but that wasn’t me).

After the doctor left, after the acupuncturist had re-needled me, I was able to put my hand on my tummy and croon the immortal words of Phoebe Buffay:

Are you in there, little fetus?
In nine months will you come greet us?

I saw my embryos today, two darling collections of about 60 cells each, one dressed in a pink bow and the other in a sailor suit. I got to see my doctor, who was the warmest and most confidence-inspiring part of this experience, and who quickly and gently guided those globules of promise into my uterus. First, though, she told me we had two beautiful embryos, which puzzled me. I replied, “Thanks. I have excellent taste in donors.” I mean, what, was I going to take credit for all 120 cells?

Two minutes later, they were inside me.


I have spent the past week in a state of hypercharge. Not nervous, not unhappy, not joyous, just filled with what felt like bouncing electrons, waking me up each morning between 3 and 4 a.m. and not letting me go back to sleep until the next night.

So by the time I got into the clinic this morning, I had one thought on my mind … the single Valium I knew was coming my way and would (hopefully) be the last mood-enhancer I’d see for a year.

First, though, there was, to paraphrase Amy Winehouse, more fuckery to navigate.

There was the part where I signed in for the most momentous day of my life to this point, and had the receptionist slide me one more form to sign. This one was the equivalent of taking the insurance at the blackjack table. I could lay out another $5,000 (no money down! the receptionist was sure to add), and if I needed to go through a new donor cycle, I would get a $22,000 discount. First of all: I had 15 embryos from this cycle, of which at least two, probably more, will be frozen. I’d have to go through all those kidsicles before I needed a new donor. (Also: There is no way I’m doing another donor cycle.)

Second of all: Are you people not raking in enough dollars? Are you really going to pimp the equivalent of AppleCare? And are you going to do it now?

I said to the receptionist, “I don’t really get what this form is all about.” She replied, “Oh, I don’t know anything about that, I just hand out the forms.”

Well, then, maybe you should get someone who does know something before you ask me turn over another 5K.

Soon I had rejected that premise, along the way learning that the humorless nurse I never met — my second in this process — was leaving the next day and would not even be around for my procedure. So I’m on my third nurse now. At least I got to meet this one face to face. She seems nice. But I can’t afford to get attached to yet another stepnurse.

Tomorrow: What happened next.

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