I'm sorry.

To the people who searched Google for the following things, but ended up here instead:

Google Search: "hairy legs"
(of course)

Google Search: "how to relax during semen analysis"
(ew, I don't know what to tell you)

Google Search: "maybe if I just relax"
(honey, just forget about relaxing! It would be just as effective to wish for a UNICORN to bring you a baby.)

More about my hairy legs and underwear.

Where on earth is this blog headed? I'm completely fixated on underwear and leg hair and pretty much ignoring the fact that I'M DOING IVF!

IVF = BIG DEAL

UNDERWEAR AND LEG HAIR = NOT SO MUCH

But still. Let me tell you about my leg hair and underwear.

Today I broke down and shaved my legs. I wasn't sure if they would be willing to do an ultrasound on a sasquatch, and I really wanted to get my ultrasound so I figured I would take one for the team and get up 15 minutes early (yep, that hairy). And guess what? It was the best decision I've ever made in my entire life. Because guess who was doing ultrasounds again today?

Yep: Teeny McShortarms.

Today, Teeny McShortarms got on my bad side a little bit, and I was kind of wishing that I had NOT shaved my legs, because that would've really shown her. First off, Teeny McShortarms took me back into the ultrasound room and made me go pee. I know to you it doesn't sound like that big of a deal, but to me it was because surprise! I find really stupid things to be a really big deal.

I hate peeing when people can hear me. HATE it. This means that I avoid peeing in public restrooms unless it is an emergency, and if I must, I find the stall that is the farthest away from anyone else peeing in the same bathroom. I am so lucky at work right now because our floor is empty except for our office, so we practically have a private bathroom. I even keep my tampons in my stall. Keeping my tampons in the bathroom is really convenient because: 1. I work in an office with 7 men, and 2. I have to leave the office and walk ALLLLLLL the way to the other end of the building to go to the restroom. Which means that I have to carry my tampon ALLLLLLL the way down the hall in plain sight of all of the men in the office. No thanks. I value my privacy whilst carrying my tampons and peeing.

(Yes, I realize that I am saying how much I value my privacy at the same time as I talk about my hairy legs, underwear, and vagina. Believe me, the irony is not lost. Am walking contradiction.)

Given my hate for public peeing, I always go to the restroom down the hall from the infertility suite before I check in so that I can pee in peace. (peece, if you will) About 10 minutes pass between my peece and my date with the ultrasound wand. Logically, 10 minutes is not long enough to make generate new pee. It's just not!

Teeny McShortarms was having none of this logic.

She made me go in the bathroom and go pee, and I literally peed one little drop and then had to wash my hands with the horrible soap that dries out my hands. Annoying. Followed by more annoying leg-rubbage due to the short arm sitch. At least it was Venus smooth for this appointment.

To make matters worse, I wore a dress with no pantyhose today. So I had to shove my underwear in my purse…I had no choice. Then I was weirded out all day that my underwear had touched all my stuff in my purse, and all the stuff in my purse touched my underwear. It was almost like I took everything out of my purse and rubbed it on my crotch. It's really an unattractive thought. Aren't you glad I've shared that thought? I know you are.

After my ultrasound, I went to the waiting room to wait for my consult with the nurse (Sally, my FAVORITE!) and to check Perez on my yummy iPhone. Guess who was in the waiting room? Jennifer A from last Friday's appointment!! Can you guess what happened in the waiting room today? Hmmm…can you?

Well, if you said, "Yes, Jen, you are sadly predictable and I bet you stood up like an asshole when they called Jennifer, and they had to say Jennifer A, and then you had to sit down and feel awkward just like last Friday," then you were right! That happened! Again!

The follies are growing nicely. I have lots and lots of them, average size is about 13mm, and I go back again on Sunday for another ultrasound and bloodwork. I'm really hoping to trigger on Sunday and have ER Tuesday and ET Friday. I think Mark is pretty nervous about the PIO shots. Just Mark, not me…

Don't worry – on Sunday, I will be able to wear jeans (good for underwear hiding) and will have Mark with me to be the safe keeper of the underwear. And I will be able to sleep in until 7 so shaving my legs won't shouldn't be a big deal.

My Ovaries: The Clown Car

Let this be the sequel to My Vagina: The Revolving Door.

I'm considering a trilogy. But I'm running out of orifices* and let's face it, people, I'm afraid of the direction in which we're heading here.

Since a bunch of people emailed me, complaining that I didn't update after my Wednesday bloodwork/ultrasound appointment** I am taking time from my busy, important life to update the Internet.***

Yesterday I had an ultrasound and another round of bloodwork. Lots of really interesting things happened (natch).

First: the important stuff… I went from 4 big follies on Monday, to TEN big follies and lots of small ones on Wednesday. I would make an excellent hen, bitches! You totally never know how many eggs are going to be in there! I bet I'll go back Friday and there will be 50!

 

I have no idea what my e2 level is because to tell you the truth? I'm kind of scared of the nurses. Here's how my follow-up phone call goes:

Me: YELLLLLLLOW?!

Nurse: Hi-this-is-Nurse-from-the-doctors-office-with-your-new-protocol.

Me: OK

Nurse: Do this and don't ask me any questions

Me: OK

Nurse: Do you have any questions?

Me: Um…no?

Nurse: Damn straight

 

I don't know why I am afraid of the nurses. I need to grow up. I mean, I can get blood drawn 4 times in one week, I can deal with Nurse Rushy-Rusherson, right?

Two other problematic things happened at my appointment. Both of them my fault (natch).

Problem #1:
The Underwear. Again.

I am so bloated that I have to wear dresses every day. So bloated, in fact, that I know there are people at work who literally think I am pregnant and are discussing it. I believe it goes something like this: "Boy, Jen has really tanked up lately." "Yea, what a hoss." "Do you think maybe she's been eating a lot of nachos?" "Maybe, I heard she loves nachos. Maybe she's pregnant, too! I mean, she has been married for two years now – she's not getting any younger! Tick tock!"

Back to my point. I am wearing dresses, which means that underneath I am only wearing underoos and pantyhose. This causes a dilemma in the whole underwear-hiding crusade. Pantyhose are see through, so they don't cover up my underwear to my comfort level like a nice pair of pants. I thought about getting a paper towel from above the sink in the ultrasound room to cover up my underwear. But really, isn't that sort of neurotic? Even just thinking about getting a paper towel to cover up your underwear when you will be showing YOUR VAGINA to the ultrasound tech is neurotic. Why do I care? I just do. I'm weird. It's kind of how I roll.

So, another day, another indecent exposure of underwear and vagina.

 

Problem #2: Hairy Legs and Short Arms.

I believe that Winter exists partly to provide me with an excuse to only shave my legs once a week (maybe) and partly to give me an excuse to wear my tall boots with dresses and skirts. So what the hell good is Winter when you have to shave your legs every other day for daily meetings with the dildo cam ultrasound wand? What good, I ask you?

In my ongoing quest to be a rebel without a cause, I did not shave my legs because hello?! I just shaved them Monday, and it is only Wednesday, and it is WINTER people! WINTER!

I figured it would not be a big deal, which should've been the trigger in my mind that it would be a big deal (in my mind anyway). Am a bad judge of what will and will not be a big deal, apparently.

The regular ultrasound lady is on vacation (In Paris. Am jealous) so there are a few different ladies filling in. I've seen a different one every visit, all of them are pretty nice. The lady I saw on Monday was slower than fucking Moses, and made me 15 minutes late for work. The lady yesterday was fast and I was out of there by 7:10 (my appointment was at 7). So, as you can imagine, I was about the ask the Wednesday lady to be my new best friend.

However, I have one slight complaint: her arms are short. NOT that there's anything wrong with that! I'm clocking in at 5 foot nothing, and my legs are as long as most people's arms, so I am down with the vertically challenged. So the problem with the short arms is that it interfered with my plan to get away with not shaving my legs.

My plan was foiled, Scooby Doo style.

Since her arms were short, she was rubbing against my HAIRY ASS leg while moving the wand around and looking at the ultrasound screen. I'm sure she came away with severe gashes on her right arm. Because seriously, I could've used a shave. Lesson learned (maybe. Unless I want to sleep in next time…).

 

I can't wait to see how my clowncar ovaries are looking tomorrow! It would be so fun if I got to trigger. But I seriously doubt it.

 

*Right? What the hell is the plural of orifice? Whatever.

**I made that up.

***I actually took time from sitting on my ass and watching Scrubs reruns. "Busy" and "Important" are relative terms, I think.

More unnecessary details about my ultrasound appointment.

So…I was the asshole who showed up at 6:45 a.m. while they were still turning on the lights. I mean, I don't want to get on anyone's bad side, but I figure they have so many patients that they won't even remember who I am. Right? Whatever – knock me up and I won't have to come early anymore! Impregnate me and you will have peace and quiet until 7 a.m.!

I'm glad I got there early, because I was the first one back. And when I came out to wait between bloodwork and ultrasound there were at least 10 couples waiting. I hope they don't catch on to the 6:45 trick (if you're reading, don't steal my early-morning thunder).

At my old RE, they would call the couple by the woman's name, so I'd be Jennifer K. Which seems stupid, but seriously, I think every woman who birthed a girl in the 80's was required to use the name JENNIFER, and now all of the infertile Jennifer's are all up in the waiting rooms at the same time as me! And at Goldfarb's office, they just call by first name. So Friday was the second time I went in, and they called Jennifer, and two of us stood up, then the nurse had to frantically flip the file around and say: Jennifer A. Which is funny, because my maiden name started with A and so I was THIS close to making the lady give out more info to the entire waiting room. But since I went and got married she didn't have to. I just stood up like an asshole when it wasn't my turn. No. Big. Deal.

I didn't pass out during bloodwork (I need to quit pointing that out, but still! Praise me! I didn't pass out and I want my props!) but the nurse did whatever it is that they do to make a big ass bruise immediately. And today the bruise is huge and black, and it HURTS like a mother.

I only had to wait about 5 minutes to go back again for the ultrasound. For some reason I was the Nervous-Chatty-Kathy version of Jen at the appointment, and couldn't stop talking! I think the nurse wanted to hoagie slap me with the ultrasound wand because nobody wants to talk to Nervous-Chatty-Kathy at 6:45 a.m. The problem was that I really wanted to start stims Friday, so I was really anxious about the results of the ultrasound.

So anxious, in fact, that I forgot to hide my underwear! Ack! I was scooting down on the table and already in the stirrups when I looked to my left and saw the horror of all horrors! Undies right on top of the clothing pile! This is the most ridiculous notion, and I know everyone does it – hiding your underwear from the gynecologist and/or RE. You're in the stirrups showing it ALL, but gawd forbid you don't hide your freaking underwear because that would be indecent. I wonder if they care? Like, if they mark on your chart: WHORE, FORGOT TO HIDE UNDERWEAR.

The ultrasound room was really cool. They have a screen for you to watch the ultrasound. It contributed to the chattyness problem I was having because I was all, "That is so cool even though I don't know what I'm looking at do I have any cysts please punch me so I'll stop talking." She pointed out all the follicles as she counted them and told me what each thing was, so it was really neat to be able to see it.

Don't get too excited, BUT! I go back for another bloodwork and ultrasound appointment tomorrow morning, and I'll surely have many pointless details to post and I will turn few words into way too many.

I can't wait to see how the follies are growing!!