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So, I’ve been to see a fertility specialist…twice now.  When I went to the office for the first time, last Thursday, I was a little nervous.  It’s just scary.  You want to hear only good things and you really don’t want to see anyone.  Thankfully, there was nobody in the waiting room and the doctor, Dr. Haas, was really great.  He set me up for a sonogram on the first day of my next cycle and told me that we needed to get Wade in to do a sperm analysis.

Well, Wade went in for his sperm analysis on Friday and when he came home, I asked him if it was awkward.  You know???  Making love to that cup and then handing it to someone???  His response:
Uhhhh, NO.  That was the most normal thing I’ve ever done.  Obviously, he was dripping with sarcasm.  We got a good laugh from that.

Naturally, I started my period on Saturday.  Couldn’t get an appointment because the office was closed.  Had to wait until Monday.  Here’s the text I sent to Wade after my sonogram:

Your swimmers are champs, my ovaries are good and he’s putting me on a small dose of clomid.  I’ve had a carwash, an oil change, picked up dry cleaning, had a wand in my vag, seen pics of my uterus and ovaries and dropped off an rx at the pharmacy all before 10am.

So, I’m taking clomid.  Apparently, I wasn’t ovulating.  That’s pretty obvious from my basal temp charting that I’ve been doing for the past several months.  That’s why he’s not making us wait for a full year.  So, baby, I take my pill every night for 5 days.  I travel to Denver to build an RV store.  I come home.  We do it like rabbits for a couple of days and, if all goes well, you exist.

Please exist.

We already talk about you.  We already know your name.  Your brother and sister want you too.  You’ll adore them.  We do.  And we adore you too!

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