Assume the Position

"Slide on down and assume the position," Dr. T told me this morning. So much for formalities.

I immediately asked Dr. T if he knew that he was grounded. "You do know you're on restriction, right? Did Nurse Excellent tell you? There will be no vacations or days off until I get pregnant, keep the baby, and you deliver it healthy at term." He quickly shot back that his vacation was hot, without a/c, and wasn't that great. When I replied "Ha! Good," he came back with, "You realize I have this in my hand, right?" Note to self: Don't upset the one in possession of large, scary dildo cam.

I learned that Young Dr. R is definitely not my friend. The right follie we saw that measured almost 16 wasn't even a damn follicle. It was the end of some major artery near the ovaries, but braniac idiot young man obviously thought differently. While a layperson (say, ME when I saw it) might have some difficult distinguishing between a follicle and gray area, I guess some people (ahem, certain doctors) might mistake the semi-dark, round, static-filled area as a follie on a sonogram. So . . . no follie at all on the right. Lefty had two follicles. One was a whopping 11 and the other even smaller.

And that's all.

There are three possibilities as of today. One, I had an annovulatory cycle. Two, the Femara didn't work. Three, I ovulated yesterday. We're doubtful on the latter because, had I already Od, there would be some fluid in my (yet again, lovely trilaminar thankyouverymuch) uterine cavity and there is not. So we shall try TI and see if that ever-elusive bfp happens (which I HIGHLY doubt it will), or increase the Femara to double what I took this cycle and try again. I'll have CD21ish labs drawn for P4, but Dr. T expects negative numbers as do I.

I'm surprisingly not disappointed or sad or crying or upset or whatever. I mean, I can't say that I'm happy and thrilled, but I'm not tragically sad. Maybe because I'm just so busy with the beginning of school and highly stressed (we won't talk about today's bp reading). Hearing the news from Dr. T was much more confirming and sensible to me. He didn't seem overly concerned but more matter-of-fact and try, try again. After all, Dr. T's the one who has told me that my body killed my 2nd baby, called with dropping betas, turned me into a silver-legged robot, took multiple party pics, hosted more than enough hoo ha parties, etc. As Rain Man would say, "Yeah. Dr. T is my main man. Yeah. K-Mart sucks and so does IF."

No more news than that. We'll see what next month holds!