Tuesday we got up much earlier than is acceptable on a day off and trekked across town to see Nurse Nina.
The appointment brings with it a lot of drama because we had some trouble reaching Nina recently, and, when she got back and I was able to talk to her, she told me that Heather has to go to the office and have a physical. What she actually told me was that we both needed physicals, at $250 a pop, and that each insemination will be $150.
Heather had just gotten her period the previous Sunday, an event that coincided nicely with her frustration over our inability to get in touch with Nina. Turns out that Nina had been on a bike trip with no cell reception, but when your life revolves around finding the perfect 24-hour window, patience is neither a virtue nor a possibility. When Nina called back, the relief of it accelerated my fear of confrontation to the degree that I said nothing about the money, despite Nina's initial proposal that she would help us for free. And now I guess she's not going to, and we need her too much to question it.
Out came the credit card, out came the family history. And, on the drive home, out came Heather's frustration that she'd spent $250 to sit in a room with Nina-- whom, she was clear in explaining, she did not like. And how can she? A woman we depend on entirely first left town without warning and then started charging us without warning is cheerfully suggesting that we take up walking and some light work with hand-weights. I'm trying with all my might to like her and believe she has our best interests at heart, so I insist on taking her side, and Heather is the one with the credit card who has no choice but to spread her legs every day.
The fertility monitor's print-out came on Tuesday, after our appointment, with shaky results. We were both disheartened at how inconsistent it suggested her cycles were, and how inconsistent her ovulation was in the midst of them. And what this means is that we're ever more dependent on Nina: we've faxed Heather's recent medical records to her, along with the fertility monitor print-out, and we're collecting pictures each day-- twice a day now that she's supposed to be ovulating (per the machine that we're questioning more and more)-- to e-mail Nina. To me, she's earning her $250, and we are back to crossing our fingers that we'll get it right-- or she will if we can't.