That's right, in honor of March Madness and any other crazy sporting event going on in the next 2 weeks, I declare: THIS SHIT IS ON!
My lining ... oh, bless it ... decided to cooperate. Suddenly, when the nurse told me the first reading was 7.96 mm and the second reading was 8.07 mm, well suddenly those extra delestrogen shots and the sticky shit on my tummy from the extra patches (I'm wearing FOUR now) just didn't matter. My lining either cooperated or it got beaten, but either way, it's ready. It's game time.
Give me a T. Give me an R. Give me an A. Give ... well, that'll take too long. That spells: TRANSFER!
TRANSFER DATE IS SET, MOFOS! April 2 at 2:30 pm Pacific time, think of me, hubby and my frozen embryos. It'll be a bust or a success. It'll be "third time's a charm" or "shit, that didn't work." Whatever happens, we at least get that shot on goal. We get to march our asses up to Seattle. I get to spread my legs again and have my cervix manipulated. And two of our four beautiful embryos will be place in a plush, fluffy resting spot, hopefully for the 9-month haul.
Now I have to try to get myself out of the slump I've been in. Try to keep Sky's passing separate from this. Try to get psyched up for this while quietly and still mourning her. To Sky.