Since we weren’t in our 20′s, Dr. Barnes was willing to start us on artificial insemination (IUI). If after three consecutive cycles we were unsuccessful, we could move on to in vitro fertilization (IVF) where eggs are fertilized manually and then inserted into the uterus. Since IVF involves a lot of hormones and Elizabeth’s breast cancer was hormone receptive we really did not want to move to IVF. Also, IVF is far more expensive and just what insurance covers is unclear. Even without insurance, most people would happily scrounge up $20k to have a baby but it even doesn’t guarantee conception or a successful pregnancy.

IUI involved Elizabeth taking a drug called Clomid at the beginning of her cycle to assist in ovulation. She was told she may not have needed it since her follicles looked very good, but this is a numbers game. She went in for monitoring at around day 10 to have her follicles (eggs) examined for count and size. I don’t recall her exact numbers other than that they were “good” and we would proceed with the IUI.

We returned on the magic day and it’s time for me to do my part. Despite this far nobler pursuit, I still have to go into one of those familiar, drab rooms with the creepy looking old VHS tapes and curled magazines. It’s kind of sad, in a a way, to think of conception beginning that pathetic little place but by this time we’re over the “magic of conception” and want to move on to the magic of a healthy pregnancy. After I turn in my sample, the insemination process is a little different. The sperm is washed so that only the elite swimmers are injected into ground zero. That washing process takes about 45 minutes, so we’re given one of those “your table is ready” wireless buzzers and we head off to get some breakfast nearby.

After returning early (of course) the buzzer goes off and Elizabeth checks in while I remain in the waiting room. It’s a strange feeling to think of what’s happening with my wife while I read my Time magazine. Hopefully, we’re conceiving.

Did I mention that in that waiting room there are usually many other people and couples there with you. I wonder what stage they’re in. Are they meeting with the doc for the first time? Is that guy about to get a semen analysis? Are those nervous look two waiting for IUI? IVF? They sure look a lot older than us. Or perhaps they have a confirmed pregnancy and they’re getting their first ultrasound? No one really looks that happy to be there. After all, we’d all just like to do it the way nature intended, not get any “assistance.”

After about a twenty minutes Elizabeth returns. We don’t say much because, as I said, there are other people there. It’s only when we get to the elevators that I find out the procedure went well, her follicles looked good and my numbers were excellent! They don’t report on morphology, but they do give a number on motility and that was also very, very good for me.

So we leave very hopeful. We feel like if we can conceive the natural way (the hard way?) having a doctor personally introduce my best and brightest sperm to Elizabeth’s egg will make conception a cinch.