I'm taking my ovaries and I'm leaving

Bright and early tomorrow we'll be on a plane bound for Helsinki, from where we catch a ferry to Tallinn, and the adventure begins. All I can say is: bring it.

H and I have made a promise that for these weeks, there will be no discussion of babies, or jobs or The Future. (And if we manage to pull that off for three whole weeks, I'll be sure to let you all in on the secret on our return.) We've been talking and planning and researching, and now it's time for a rest. And lots of play.

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But first, just to get it all out of my system, I was able to arrange an impromptu update appointment with the RE yesterday when we went to pick up copies of test results and kind of strategically and annoyingly positioned ourselves in the line of oncoming traffic at the clinic reception until the nurse forced the doctor to make time for us. We have to wait almost until the end of July for the real, What's Next? appointment (I sort of feel like they think maybe if they just don't mention it, we'll, like, forget about the IVF stuff or something. Frustrating). Still, I guess this briefest of briefings was informative in its way. To wit: we are both still perfectly normal, perfectly healthy; still can't make babies though.

H was disappointed with his 'entirely normal' semen analysis, hoping that it might provide the means for us to jump the queue, as it were. No such luck. (As an aside, while the results of my bloodwork and ultrasounds are always just a phone call away, and I always ask for specific numbers when calling, SA results appear to be highly classified. We must have called five times, given the run-around, before finally being told H could pick up printed copies, so long as he came in person and with ID; and in the end we still don't have the actual numbers. Just cursory - and condescending, if you ask me - note saying 'entirely normal'.  Why is this? I ask myself. Are these results a national secret? Do they play a role in MI5's future counter-terrorism strategy? Do they hold the answer to the climate crisis? Seriously, what gives?). So yes, entirely normal. Still can't make babies though. 

I, apparently, 'ovulated beautifully' this month. Your Day 21 progesterone was 69 this cycle!, the doctor said in a more-enthusiastic-than-strictly-necessary, whoa-ho-ho get a load of those numbers! way that was slightly disconcerting. So I'm a stellar ovulator with beautiful ovaries. Good for me, I guess...? Still can't make babies though.

He also had an explanation for the weird, pre-cycle bleeding I've been having the last few months. He thinks it's the low dose aspirin that Dr B prescribed (with the aim of both facilitating potential implantation and reducing the risk of miscarriage should we conceive). Seems reasonable, and puts my thoughts at rest. That's something at least.

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On Wednesday, after returning to the kitchen for second third helpings of dinner, having already stuffed my face with a (highly uncharacteristic) bacon sandwich at breakfast, H confessed his hopefulness. Maybe you're...?

Uh, no...just gluttonous and indulging in mood eating, methinks.

Still, it's nice to have an occasional excuse and yet have the behaviour indulgently, lovingly gazed at, all dewy eyed, by my husband.

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I may get a chance to pop in and catch up with all your blogs during the time H is at his workshop, even if I don't get time to post or comment. Please watch this space!

Now if you'll excuse me, my beautifully ovulating ovaries and I have a plane to catch.

Up, up and away.  Source.