It might be hard to realize how those two things might be connected, but I promise you they are!

Saturday is date night.  There are few better things than getting to spend a quiet evening alone with my husband.  We intermittently exchanging high fives as we cheered our very own Ohio State Buckeyes on to a win.  The game started at 8:00pm and Doug and I, being the wild and crazy kids that we are, stayed up through the whole 3rd quarter.

Meanwhile, about 20 miles away from us a similar situation played out.  One significant difference was that only the wife decided to call it a night at the end of the third quarter.  She decided to sleep in a different room so that her husband could watch the remainder of the game. That room, while very comfortable, lacked one very important tool.  An alarm clock. 

Sunday morning, our alarm woke us long before the sun could.  It was 5:50 am.  We had both showered and had everything ready to go the night before so that we could essentially jump in the truck and make our 45 minute journey to the RE's office for our first (and hopefully our last) IUI.  We had been given the option of bringing "the goods" with us as long as we could get it there within an hour of it's "arrival."  Since that made me nervous and really didn't want to feel like we were racing against the clock, we decided that Doug would do his part when we got there.

We drove though darkness making a quick stop at Starbucks since I read once that sperm can actually benefit from a high octane jolt of caffeine prior to being called to action.  Then, we arrived at the office and walked in.  Again, I was slightly shocked at the number of people I saw sitting in the room.  At least 10 people were sitting in the waiting area.  It was 7:00 am on a Sunday!?  I walked up to the receptionist, smiled and said our names.

She looked up, with very sleepy and perplexed eyes and replied, "I don't know where P is.  She was supposed to be here and I have no idea what to tell you.  Go ahead and have a seat."  P is who I fondly refer to as "The Sperm Lady."  She apparently was no where to be found.


We took a seat and then I surveyed the room again.  There were women rolling their eyes, tapping their feet, and nervously scrolling up and down on their smart phones.  The guys seemed to be more involved in their issue of Popular Mechanics and Sports Illustrated.  After a few minutes passed the receptionist calls out to the waiting area that P overslept and would be there in 20 minutes.  The women who had been already toe tapping and eye rolling, looked as if, had it been socially appropriate, they would have flopped on the floor and screamed.  Then it dawned on me... They had their time sensitive goods probably stowed in their clothing watching that minute hand tick tick tick.  I was so thankful that we decided to deal with the awkwardness of taking care of that on site. 

The Sperm Lady showed up exactly 21 minutes later and then it felt like we were transported to the floor of the NYSE.  People were bidding on who got to go next and making their move toward the Sperm Lady's door.  We, on the other hand, just sat.  Then, one woman from the other end of the room explained that they had been there since 6:30!  We were happy to wait until last. 

We were told to be back in one hour.  We grabbed some breakfast and came back and waited for our turn.  This time, we didn't have to wait very long before being called back, but we were close to being the last people in the waiting area.

We walked into the room and the nurse showed me a vial and asked me to verify that it was my husband's information on the label.  I saw his name and gave her the okay.  The doctor came in a few moments later and after exchanging some pleasantries,  he began reading of Doug's SS#.  Doug was nodding along until he read the last number.  The doctor said 7 and it should have been a 9.  We all kind of smiled awkwardly and giggled recognizing that it was just a typo, but on the very short list of the worst places to have a typo.  So we all agreed that the Sperm Lady must have misread Doug's handwriting.  Then he read off Doug's birthday.  Doug and I both nodded as he read the month and day of his birth but when he read the year, it was off by a decade.  I honestly thought that the doctor must have been making a joke considering the issue with the SS#, but when we corrected him he let a F-bomb fly and threw down some paperwork.  All a little too dramatic for a joke.

So, to wrap up this story that I had no intention of being this long, I may have been inseminated with some guy sperm who's first and last name was the same, has the same SS# with one digit different, and who is exactly 10 years younger!  I just hope this guy is half as wonderful as my husband is. 

But seriously, the doctor did give us the option of cancelling and rescheduling but assured us that he was the only doctor in today and that there had been no other confusion on any other samples.  Considering that we were basically the last of the people to be seen that day, we really are confident that it was just two very bad typos.