“Think happy baby thoughts.”

I had my first IUI this morning. I woke up at 5:20 and took an ovulation predictor test to see if it was positive. I figured that if it was positive, that meant I did get enough of the Ovidrel into my body since the Ovidrel causes a positive on an OPK. It was positive.

By far the hardest thing about the whole process was getting J to wake up at 5:30. He didn’t actually get out of bed until 5:45. I’m sure he’d have procrastinated longer had I not told him his appointment to umh, do his part, was at 6:45, when it was actually at 7. Yes, I’m a very smart wife.

Last night, he was complaining about getting up early and threatening not to shower or get dressed before going in, “Hi, I’m the homeless man Karen found on the streets and paid to give a semen sample. Do you have any donuts?”

It takes about an hour for them to wash the sperm. They cannot inject seminal fluid into your uterus so they have to separate the sperm from the other matter. I’m very curious about the whole thing so I asked the doctor exactly how they do it. I couldn’t see her face while she was explaining since she was fiddling with my vagina at the time. I hope she didn’t think it was an odd thing to ask.

When she walked into the exam room, she commented on my husband not being able to stay for the actual IUI. I had thought about the possibility in passing but never even suggested it to him, I’d rather he got home early and we could spend some time together tonight. I called J later on and mentioned it to him, that maybe the norm was for him to be there during conception. He had a good point, that if conception occurred, it would be later today and not during the IUI. So maybe we’ll conceive over dinner tonight.

Right as the doctor injected the sperm, she said, “Okay, I’m injecting the sperm, think happy baby thoughts, happy baby thoughts, happy baby thoughts.” I’d been pretty relaxed and pretty happy up until that moment, but after hearing “think happy baby thoughts,” every bad thought, worry, etc. I’ve ever had went through my head. It’s like when someone tells you not to move and you suddenly have this uncontrollable urge to dance a jig.