Gaining Perspective
"We have a back-up speculum," is what she said as my feet clenched into fists. I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that's one of the least favorite comments you want to hear your nurse make. All the while she's what appears to be elbow deep in me with a strained and concentrated look of determination on her face. I almost expected her tongue to come out and rest itself on the outer corner of her mouth, much the way a five year old would when trying with great effort to color within the lines.
I took a deep breath and thought, I wonder how long I can stifle this scream? and continued to concentrate on a speck on the ceiling. Very Zen of me. Not really. Not even close.
The nurse did indeed resort to the back-up after all. The difference was amazing. I almost sat up and thanked her, but instead I breathed a sigh of relief and tried to lie perfectly still. The procedure itself was painless. She went slowly as to give every one of the 12 million sperm the best possible chance at both of my ripened ovum, which by all accounts were released earlier that morning.
We waited nervously for two weeks to hear if our first attempt at this was a dud or a homerun. My husband was more nervous than I was. After having been told over and over in his adult life that he wouldn't be able to have children without help, here we were--with help--on the brink of having a child together. Maybe. If the stars aligned and I hopped on one foot in the pale moon light on the 3rd Tuesday of the month in a full moon. Naked.
In the time we had been together, he had already become such a wonderful father figure and mentor to my two sons, having a child together made sense in every possible way. It was a big step, we were scared and excited and...voila! Positive test. Baby. Whew! All of the visits to the doctor, the fertility shots in the bum, the weird go-to-that-room-over-there-and-give-us-a-sample-in-this-cup moment, and yes, the awkward speculum procedure was all worth it! Elation! Joy! Dancing and merriment!
She was perfect. We were so grateful. I was also grateful to have pregnancies behind me and to be able to fit back into my own normal clothes and to be the only person occupying my body, thank you. And then...6 months after having Ella, my husband who can't have children without help, who had been sexually active for 25 of his 40 years and had seen several doctors about his infertility throughout his adult life was suddenly fertile. We conceived. Naturally. No speculum. Whoa.
Now we are a family of six. 4 children, 2 adults, 3 boys, 1 girl, 1 dog... and a partridge in a pear tree. And messy and colorful chaos has ensued. As well as a vasectomy.
I took a deep breath and thought, I wonder how long I can stifle this scream? and continued to concentrate on a speck on the ceiling. Very Zen of me. Not really. Not even close.
The nurse did indeed resort to the back-up after all. The difference was amazing. I almost sat up and thanked her, but instead I breathed a sigh of relief and tried to lie perfectly still. The procedure itself was painless. She went slowly as to give every one of the 12 million sperm the best possible chance at both of my ripened ovum, which by all accounts were released earlier that morning.
We waited nervously for two weeks to hear if our first attempt at this was a dud or a homerun. My husband was more nervous than I was. After having been told over and over in his adult life that he wouldn't be able to have children without help, here we were--with help--on the brink of having a child together. Maybe. If the stars aligned and I hopped on one foot in the pale moon light on the 3rd Tuesday of the month in a full moon. Naked.
In the time we had been together, he had already become such a wonderful father figure and mentor to my two sons, having a child together made sense in every possible way. It was a big step, we were scared and excited and...voila! Positive test. Baby. Whew! All of the visits to the doctor, the fertility shots in the bum, the weird go-to-that-room-over-there-and-give-us-a-sample-in-this-cup moment, and yes, the awkward speculum procedure was all worth it! Elation! Joy! Dancing and merriment!
She was perfect. We were so grateful. I was also grateful to have pregnancies behind me and to be able to fit back into my own normal clothes and to be the only person occupying my body, thank you. And then...6 months after having Ella, my husband who can't have children without help, who had been sexually active for 25 of his 40 years and had seen several doctors about his infertility throughout his adult life was suddenly fertile. We conceived. Naturally. No speculum. Whoa.
Now we are a family of six. 4 children, 2 adults, 3 boys, 1 girl, 1 dog... and a partridge in a pear tree. And messy and colorful chaos has ensued. As well as a vasectomy.
Official Introduction
Hi, and welcome to Striped Left Sock! I'm Valerie, a married mother of four beautiful kids, thirty-(gulp) seven years old, and I work full time for an educational publisher in North Carolina. I have been married for 5 years to Vern, with whom I have 2 adorable little poops. From a previous marriage, I have two amazing boys who are quickly (too quickly) becoming young men. Children's ages range from 13 to 3, and that's quite a spread. A lot happens in between 3 and 13, and it happens on a daily basis! There's never a dull (or quiet) moment in our house.