After our disastrous first insemination adventure, we sped over to the clinic to claim new syringes. Internet: the oral child-medicating syringes are not okay. Not okay.
The new ones, which I've been carrying around with me since then, like Chapstick, are bad-ass. They make me think of one-eyed Daryl Hannah preparing to kill Uma Thurman. Seriously, I could pierce an IV with these suckers. I'm not gonna, but I could.
Well, I have seen some porn in my time, and I think that's bullshit. Just like the ad for "artisanal salads" that have such delicious lettuce varieties that they don't even require dressing.
It's more than that. I'm not buying in. The sperm we bought is not a whole donation. One donation probably produces ten vials. 15 minutes of Jenna Jameson and the Cryobank is $5,000 richer. Point is, you need a narrow, pointy needle to get any meaningful percentage of that vial's contents.
The other syringe was built for dosing children with Benadryl, but not so much for the phase before that when you're trying to conceive a child that someday you can dose with Benadryl.
We managed to tip the vial over, spilling some. When we caught it, we decided another approach was to pour the semen we couldn't get through the vial into a shallow tablespoon. (Cuisinart. Red.) That actually worked okay, but then again it was just one more surface to waste sperm on.
Before we raced back to the bedroom with the oral syringe (which makes me wonder why it is we assume that this has to be done in the bedroom; we could lay her out on the kitchen table just as easily), Heather capped it (with that white thing next to the syringe in the picture). As she sat on the bed, Heather uncapped it, about to hand it to me, and more semen fell from the cap. That's what got our carpet pregnant.
However, we are approaching the second insemination better-equipped. Not only could we totally murder Uma Thurman/Beatrice Kiddo, we can also squirt semen with shocking precision.
Talked to Nurse Nina. Based on the monitor and H's cervix, she said do it in the morning. Eight hours from now.