After our failed stim driven IUI (ye old turkey baster) we had our summer of fun before diving into IVF. During that summer we traveled to numerous countries, learned to say ‘cheers’ in many languages, and enjoyed our beautiful life before the chaos to come with infertility. From what I knew, which I now know was very little back then, was that IVF was pretty much a sure thing. I was young (35), healthy, active, and feeling great; there’s no way my youthful and hospitable uterus wouldn’t lay out the welcome mat for an expertly created petri dish embryo. In fact, I was quite sure my uterus was already cleaning my inner baseboards and changing linens in preparation for its upcoming guest.

First up, the baseline appointment, where I was instructed to come in two days after my menstrual cycle started. Interesting timing, considering I was going to ovulate ~12 days later; but hey, this guy knows what he’s doing and I was ready to make a baby that month. To my surprise, things don’t just happen that quick and that appointment was the first of many intimate moments with Wanda. For those of you who are wondering who Wanda is, it is more of a question of what than who. The ultrasound thingy that looks like an oversized Bob Barker microphone is affectionately known in our house as Wanda. Once the blood was drawn, we were introduced to Wanda, and the doctor said it was a go… that’s when things got a little crazy. 

I was told they would call my medications in to my pharmacy, I had to make another appointment to review my calendar (weird), and I should plan to come back for more bloodwork and Wanda time. As a woman who thrives in a structured environment, and someone who considers herself on the smarter side of the gene pool (certainly no genius), I was in pure anxiety mode. No list of meds, they will just call them in… how will I know if I got them all?!?!? Calendar review, why the F do I need to come back to talk about my calendar when you know at this very moment what said calendar looks like?!?!? Why does this whole thing feel haphazard and blasé. 

Needless to say the following weeks were a gauntlet of missing medications, phone calls to my specialty pharmacy, stress about juggling my work schedule with the upcoming mystery calendar, and stress before something that everyone and their mother tells you to stay calm through or it won’t work.