The other day, I asked my friends what kind of shorthand we should use for “flying up to Brisbane to meet our donor for inseminations”, and while several amusingly unsavoury options were floated, I liked the kind of whimsical “stork chasing” best.
And we are officially in our first month of proper stork chasing.
Last time I checked in with an update in the Twoby diaries, our donor had had a worrying test result that we thought would hold things up. Luckily, subsequent tests showed it to have been a false positive, so he’s fine, and we’re all clear to start firing with live ammo, as it were. But we have to get me and my ladyparts to to Brisbane to do it.
At the beginning of my current cycle, SJ and I sat down with a calendar, all my accumulated cycle tracking data, and the laptop, and booked flights and accomodation for around day 18. This, given all the information we had to hand, would be exactly the right time to give us the best chance of conceiving.
On day 12, the day before yesterday, I did my first OPK test of this cycle. This is a home test, very similar to a pregnancy test, that detects the amount of luteinizing hormone in your system. A surge in this hormone is what triggers ovulation, so when it’s detected you know that you’re about to enter the most fertile period of your cycle (i.e. when the egg is released, and ready to hook up with the sperm and make a baby).
That first test, which I had expected to show nothing at all, showed a light line – not enough to be considered a positive, but enough to raise an eyebrow on day 12. It’s not unusual for me to get a few days of reads like this before I get a true positive, so I didn’t think that much more about it until the following afternoon when SJ asked if I’d tested again. I hadn’t yet, so I went and did one straight away, and it was a strong positive.
I may have sworn a bit. We both may have sworn quite a bit.
If I waited for the flights we’d booked, I’d miss the window, and there’d be no point in going at all.
As soon as I stopped swearing, I called our donor to explain what was happening, and ask if it was ok with him if we brought the whole operation forward. He, being the top chap that he is, was 100% supportive and accommodating, so we lunged for our computers and started changing bookings.
16 hours later, I was sitting on a plane to Brisbane, bleary-eyed, a little shell shocked, and clutching a paper cup full of the most heinous coffee I think I’ve ever encountered.
G, in ongoing top chap fashion, met me at the airport, and drove me to my hotel, where an operation that had the potential to be tooootally awkward was… completely not.
After I’d checked in, we met downstairs for a (much better) coffee, then he took my key, and ducked up to my room, while I waited in the restaurant with my book. When he came back, he returned the key and left for his day at work. I went upstairs got out my carefully packed insem kit, and did what I came all this way to do.
I spent the rest of the day working and reading. It was quiet, and largely horizontal, which are two of my favourite things.
Tomorrow, we’ll repeat the exercise, and then again on Saturday before I fly home for our first (and what I am with wild optimism hoping will be our only) two week wait.
Cross your fingers for us, please!