Oh the things we will reminisce about and tell our child once he/she is old enough. The birthing story, the first few weeks/months at home, the first time we feed him a pickle just to watch his face. You know, those sorts of things. One story I can’t wait to tell is about his implantation story. Wait – your mother never told you your implantation story? Well!
See, it was one of those many long and endless string of days and nights in between the IUI and the missing of the period. The two week wait… the 2ww, even. So there we were, waiting, relatively patiently, when we tucked ourselves in one night for some sleep. I’m sure the internet can tell which day past IUI or day past ovulation this was likely to occur, but in my memory, all those days blended together. That night, I hovered in that sleepless area between being peacefully asleep and being awake staring at the clock. I tossed, I turned, I perhaps even groaned aloud as I felt my insides become completely taken over by an alien force. A fertilized egg, if you will. There were twinges of uterine pain, but it was the overall sensation of being violated and adhered to. My back and shoulders ached, and I woke up the next morning feeling restless and hungover, as if my body had been fighting a losing battle all night long. I told my wife, and we tried to assume it was my body’s reaction to stress, though I’ve never experienced a sensation so disturbing before or since.
I mean, it’s safe to assume that implantation bleeding (although I did not have any, the mere knowledge of its existence) doesn’t necessarily come not from a place of an egg gently nestling into your uterus, but rather from a violent bodily takeover. I don’t know if any other people have experienced this, but it’s definitely one for our storybook… you know, right next to the one about the speculum.