I actually got into my car and drove down to the fertility clinic yesterday. A real, live, fertility clinic to see *gasp* .... a real, live, doctor who is going to help me get knocked up. Fuck. This isn't just a wish or dream anymore. I'm trying not to be hopeful - as H0mer Simps0n would say "Try? You don't try. That's the first step to failure!"
The doc was so lovely. I had my official folder ready, with recent blood and pap results, and anything else I thought she may need - I even dutifully nodded when she asked if I was on folic acid. I could sense Mr TC's amazement when I whipped out a list of my previous 6 months cycling history.
The news was pretty good. We know exactly what we need - icsi due to vasectomy - she explained that because my age is still good for having a baby, and as I have already done it once before, then the stats are pretty good. She gave us a 40% success rate - but that's just a number. I'm not fond of stats at the best of times. I need to get more bloods and an ultrasound this week, if that's all ok then I can start on BCP my next period. Which is 3 weeks away. Oh I'm so excited about it. Mr TC took the day off work, and has been really lovely about it all. (Although he was obsessed over the thought of twins - something he wants to avoid at all costs.)
The hope really does creep on quite early in the piece. I got home to promptly work out my EDD if I was to fall on my first cycle. Because ivf is so easy.