Been There, Done That

My husband and I have been considering attempting IVF again sometime this year, and have met with a doctor to cover the basics in case we do decide to go ahead with it. This required the repeat of every test we've ever had (except the HSG, gratefully, because I would have walked right out of the doctor's office if they had suggested such a thing again. Though I did get to have an SHG, which was uncomfortable, but not horrific). To complete the requirements for pursuing treatment I had to attend a three-hour IVF class (in spite of the fact that I have already done IVF, oh, let me count... THREE times. And yes, I did ask if it was really necessary).

I was prepared to be bored out of my skull, and it did feel rather like I was a college graduate in a room full of first-graders, but I managed to get through it without rolling my eyes or sighing too much.

The most interesting thing about the whole class was how nervous everyone was. Especially when the needles came out - the tiny little subcutaneous needles which barely count as needles at all - and the entire room audibly gasped in one moment of collective terror. I laughed.

I suppose all the fertility treatment I've been through has jaded me, though I can remember how nervous I was to do my first injection (I hardly slept the night before), but it wasn't necessarily because I was worried about it hurting; I was worried about doing it wrong. The wrong dose, or the wrong injection site, or the wrong SOMETHING. My first ever shot was on Christmas morning. (Now there's a "Ho Ho Ho" if I ever had one). To this day, if I hear the tune that played on my husband's cell phone as an alarm to wake us up, I get a little jittery and sick to my stomach.

The most interesting part of the class was listening to the questions people would ask, and watching the insane amount of notetaking going on. I swear, if the teacher sneezed someone would write that down, and then ask if the sneeze had any particular indications for treatment. One lady was obsessed with having several sperm samples to choose from. One woman would ask a question immediately after the same question had been just been answered. But surprisingly, no one asked about restrictions on sex during treatment, which is usually a staple for these types of classes.

I spent my time reassuring the forty-something lady sitting next to me, who was outwardly nervous and couldn't seem to figure out how to fill a syringe to the proper dose.

It was nice not to have to obsess over remembering every little detail. And it was a little odd how I, easily the youngest person in the room, was the most experienced and the most relaxed.

I'm so mature for my age.