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I took my mom to my IUI, and she wanted me to bring a toy. Asking me to take matters into my own hands for the sake of a second grandchild was a bit much, even for me.
In the examination room, clad only in a paper gown, a straightforward nurse—let’s call her Lisa—told me to recline and take it easy. My mom, my ever-supportive partner in crime, sat beside me, holding my hand tightly. As I positioned my feet in the stirrups—definitely not the most romantic setting—I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the moment. I could feel my mother’s hopes and dreams radiating through her gentle grip as Lisa prepared to work her magic. I attempted to mentally escape, inviting good vibes as the procedure commenced.
Once it was over, Lisa said I could rest for a few moments to let everything “settle.” I thanked her for helping me on this journey, and she wished me luck with a casual smile. After Lisa left, I told my mom I wanted to meditate quietly for a bit, with my legs elevated to help the sperm swim. But she had other plans.
“Did you bring a toy?” she asked, her voice a little too loud.
“What? Mom! No! Why would I…”
She had read somewhere that having an orgasm post-IUI could mimic “real sex” and improve the chances of success. It was a somewhat valid point, and I might have even penned that article at some point. But really? No way.
Aside from the fact that my vibrator had been out of commission for over two years, the idea of digging through a drawer full of mismatched items was less than appealing. But then again, neurotic parents produce neurotic kids, right?
My lack of a toy didn’t deter my mom. She squeezed herself into the medical closet, urging me to take care of things “the old-fashioned way!”
We’re a ride-or-die family, but her request was a bit too much for me. Did she listen? Oh, absolutely not.
Yet, her antics did lighten the mood. The image of my mom yelling, “Think of Dr. Thompson! Think of Dr. Thompson!”—our dashing fertility doctor—was utterly hilarious. Suddenly, I burst into laughter.
We shared laughter as I got dressed and even while I paid the IUI bill. The joy continued on the train ride home, my head resting on her shoulder amidst fits of giggles. We recounted the story to everyone we met, delighting especially in telling it to anyone who might raise an eyebrow. That night, we laughed ourselves to sleep, and I truly believe that our shared joy made a difference.
Seven or eight weeks later, we found ourselves back in that same room, this time with my sister. Dr. Thompson entered, and I already knew I was pregnant from the countless tests I had taken—and the numerous falafels I had devoured out of sheer hunger. Yet, I was still anxious about the viability of the pregnancy.
“Your baby has a heartbeat,” Dr. Thompson said, his voice calm yet infused with genuine excitement. “A strong, healthy heartbeat.”
“Is it going to be okay, Dr. Thompson?” I asked, my heart racing. My sister was in tears, while my mom beamed with pride. Dr. Thompson’s smile was the one I had been waiting for: “All I can say is: you’re in the game.”
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Summary
In a humorous account of her IUI experience, the author shares the unexpected moment when her mom suggested she bring a vibrator to enhance the chances of conception. Despite the awkwardness, they found joy in the situation, leading to laughter that ultimately contributed to a positive outcome in their journey toward parenthood.
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