July 8th, 2011. CD37, 9DPO.
So, Dr. Fran’s office called this morning, and had news for me.
Guess what? You’re not immune to Rubella! You’ve just won the opportunity to get a big fat vaccination needle in the arm (or ass) and a one month vacation from trying to conceive!
Ugh.
Do you think maybe they won’t make me do it if I tell them that blonde actress lady has me believing that if I get the vaccine, I will become autistic?
No?
Double Ugh.
Like I have time for this… Let’s do some math. (Don’t worry, I went to public school. It will be simple math.)
If today is 9DPO, then judging by past cycles, I should be expecting dear old Aunt Flo sometime between tomorrow and Monday. If I manage to get in to get the vaccine on CD1, which is highly unlikely, then I might have a shot at being able to start Femara next cycle on CD3. That would put the date roughly at August 15th…
…Which is the week the husband and I are expecting to pack up all of our worldly possessions and move to another state.
But hey, no pressure or anything.
Maybe I will just tell Dr. Fran that I pinky-swear I won’t cuddle any children who may be teeming with German measles. I mean, I don’t even know any Germans!
Yeah, I think that could work… After all, the pinky-swear is the most sacred of playground promise-keeping rituals.
Well, no time to think too much about this today. The husband and I are off to look for a non-craphole to move into in Ohio. Wish us luck, because scouring Craigslist has not brought me much hope thus far.
Triple Ugh.
Just Stop Trying and It Will Happen... 