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