overshare (verb): to divulge excessive personal information, as in a blog or broadcast interview, prompting reactions ranging from alarmed discomfort to approval. — Word of the Year 2008, Webster's New World Dictionary


Have you noticed that the English language as we know it will never be the same? Today I found out that “overshare” was the word of the year for 2008. I don’t think it was my fault, but I’m sure I contributed, as have you. So in the spirit of oversharing I thought that when I get a chance I will research new words that weren’t part of our vocabulary when I was growing up, and tell a story about the word, some may be true,some may be a product of my very twisted imagination.

When I was about 27 I found out that reproduction would not be as easy for me as it is for most 13 year old girls. Oh no, I was a married adult but apparently God thought it would be fun to jerk my chain, repeatedly. So after three lost pregnancies and the snotty doctor telling me I would never have a biological child, we decided to try IVF- in vitro fertilization for those of you who are fortunate enough to not know what that acronym represents.

Any and all fertility treatments are painful, scary and in many ways, demeaning. I mean really, does the janitor need to look in my damn cooter? Even worse than that, is the fact that you have no control over anything anymore. I’m not good at being out of control, I like to know what is going to happen, when and why. I’m a planner, don’t tell me I have to wait and see.

Oh and you are pumped so full of hormones that if you suddenly went postal and killed everyone in Walmart they would never be able to convict you. Crying becomes as common as breathing, and you have no idea why. Such a wonderful time, you can see why I’m so anxious to relive it, but relive it I will, just so you too can get a laugh out of my experience.

IVF is fun, let’s just put that right out there. The first thing they do to you is give you many, many, painful, vomit inducing, frequently causing you to pass out, tests. Those are for the insurance company. They just want to make sure you are not lying on your infertitlity paperwork.

Then comes the real fun! You must be at the hospital every morning for a blood draw, a shot in the tummy, a shot in the hip and a vaginal ultrasound. Then in the evening your loving spouse gets to give you a shot in the other hip. Word of advice here- don’t piss off a man who holds your hip and a syringe in his hand, it is really not in your best interest.

So, you get through all of the lovely little hoops they make you jump through, you get up at 5 every morning and go to the hospital, you are nice to your husband, at least until after the evening shot, you pray, you make deals with God, you promise to never, ever do__________ ( whatever it is, cause at this point you will promise anything) if you can just please, please, please have one baby. Just one God, that’s all, one teeny, tiny little baby to love. Finally they say, you are ready for retrieval. Retrieval means they are going to stick a very loooooooooooong needle through your vaginal wall and suck all the little eggs out of the follicles that are mature, I had 23 mature follicles. My fertility doctor said, great job, you are in the group we get our quads from so we are only going to transfer three.

We wound up with 18 eggs, lovely little things, then they put four of them in a petri dish with Steve’s contribution and we waited. The next morning I called in to see how my babies were doing and the doctor said- “Dying, we need your husband to come back down and give us another sample so we can fertilize five more eggs.” So Steve journeyed back to the hospital to spend time in a room with magazines, knowing that everyone on the other side of that door knows what you are doing in there. At least it was fun for someone.

Transfer morning. Congratulations! You have six embryos ready to transfer. Six? What happened to the quad danger? Needless to say, I spent the entire drive to the hospital losing my mind, thinking I’m gonna have a freaking litter, all I wanted was one healthy baby. Would God really do this to me? Go from zero to six in 8.5 months? What the hell?

Steve and I sat with the doctor while he gave the spiel, selective reduction, too many babies, yadda yadda yadda. What did he say? I have no idea, I wanted to get this show on the road. I had no idea what I was in for. The doctor told me Steve could not go with me for the transfer, it was a very sterile environment, blah, blah, blah. Whatever, lets get going! Why are you still talking?

The nurse leads me to a room that is not actually a room, it’s kind of like being in the emergency room where there are beds every five feet and just a curtain separates them. I didn’t care if they did the transfer in the middle of the street, I wanted to get my baby!

“ Here’s your gown, put this on, open in the back and the doctor will be right in.” That was wonderful Nurse Perky, you will hear more from her in a moment.

Ok, I’m getting excited now, we are moving forward. I stripped in record time and put that hospital gown on, hopped up on the table and waited. Dr. Katz came in with a rolling tray that had a catheter like thing on it. He explained that this catheter held my embryos(My babies). Each embryo(baby) was cushioned by an air pocket on either side of it, the catheter would be fed into my uterus through my cervix, the embryos (babies) would be emptied into my uterus and then the catheter would be examined to make sure they all transferred. Important note- the word baby, was mine-not the doctor's, he never said the B word, but it was the only word I heard the whole time he talked. Any questions? Nope, none, let’s go, I’m ready, what are you waiting for? Hurry,hurry, hurry.

I’m very impatient.

Dr. Katz goes off to wash his hands and to let about ten “students” into the room. When I had IVF seventeen years ago it was still considered an experimental procedure.

“Ok, sweetie” says Nurse Perky, “ I need you to get on all fours with your knees at the bottom of the table.”

Done, I am nothing if not cooperative. Nurse Perky covers my bottom half with a blanket, how kind of her!

“Now I need you to put your chest on the table”

What? Seriously? I must assume a porn flick position for this? Ok, ok, I can do this, I remind myself of the little baby who is waiting for me to do this.

So, there I am, in a hospital gown, on a gurney, with my chest on the table, butt in the air, surrounded by 10-12 people and lovely Nurse Perky flips the blanket up to expose my butt to the room. Kill me now! Even the soles of my feet are blushing.

Suddenly I am no longer a person, I am a medical procedure, I’m about to die of embarrassement but everyone in the room has forgotten I’m there. I have become a cervix and a waiting uterus. As Nurse Perky swabs my girlie bits with something Dr. Katz explains to the students how my body has responded to the hormone therapy, how fertilization went, issues we encountered, best case scenarios, worst case scenarios, etc.

Hello? I’m still here, and I can freaking hear you! Dr. Katz continues explaining to the students what he is doing as he guides the catheter into my uterus. None of this is painful, something I am very, very grateful for since I’m surrounded my strangers. He removes the catheter and explains how to examine it, what to look for, how to know the transfer was complete.

Success! We have an empty catheter, the transfer is complete, you may slowly lower your tummy to the table now. Remember when I said each embryo was cushioned by an air pocket? Well, when you lower you belly to the table, guess where all that air goes? That’s right, I’m queefing the whole way from on my sexy butt in the air porn pose to prone. And to make matters worse, as I turn my head so I’m facing away from the doctor, nurse and students, I notice the maintenance man on a ladder, fixing something in the ceiling, with a perfect view of my queefing ass and all I can think is – This better freaking work!”