Multiple tiny eggs in my two baskets

Today was ultrasound day. No big surprise there - I've been blogging about it for days, and it was finally time to see what was going on with my girlie bits.

Today was also a nasty day in my part of the world (and maybe yours). There was snow on the ground. Snow. It's April 5th. Mother nature screwed up and gave us her version of an April Fool's Day joke four days late. She must be hungover or pissed off at her boyfriend or something like that. There's really no other excuse for this kind of behaviour.

We've all been so patient waiting for spring, and just when we get three (or in my case, four) days off to enjoy all spring has to offer, she goes and fucks us all over. Booooooo... I don't even know when it's supposed to get better. I saw the 7 day forecast, and it was crap from end to end, so I just stopped watching. Sigh.

So this blustery morning I pull out my fuchsia pea coat for a return engagement and wait for my train, limbs all a shiver. I'm sitting, I'm reading, I'm sipping my nasty coffee and my cell phone rings.

Crap. I have a book in one hand, coffee in the other, and my cell is at the bottom of my A&F bag. Of course I miss it, but it's okay - it's just a 1 - 888 number. Telemarketers. Wrong number. You wouldn't believe how many wrong numbers I get on that cell, despite having had the same number for 8 years. But I digress....

A few minutes later the phone rings again. This in and of itself is quite abnormal - my cell rarely rings off its figurative hook, but here we are. A glance at the call display and I see that it's Hubs, so of course I answer.

He proceeds to tell me that the call I missed was from ADT, our alarm company, and that someone's trying to break into our house. They've dispatched the police, and Hubs is on his way home to check things out.

Awesome!!! Just what my poor trembling follicles need - stress! Sheesh. And timing being what it is, my train is just pulling into Union and then I'll be on the subway, so I won't be able to hear what's happened for 15 minutes. And I have to bust my ass to get to my clinic because my appointment is now minutes away.

The trembling continues.

I get to the clinic on time, and miracle of miracles, they call my name a mere minute or two after my arrival. I go for blood work, then have a moment to finally call Hubs back to see what's been pilfered from our new home.

His response? Nothing. All is fine. The cop said he went and looked to see if anyone was even near the entry point that tripped the alarm, and nope, no tracks (ah, the benefits of snow in April). We've surmised that there's a faulty connection in this one spot and they're coming out to fix it tomorrow.

Okay! Relief on one front - now off to have a plastic wand sheathed in a condom and dipped in lube shake hands with Madame Cooch. The bloody doctor didn't even offer to buy me dinner or kiss me on the cheek before we did the deed. Some people...

I'm trying desperately to hear his murmurs to the nurse as he kneads my innards with his magic wand. He measures my endometrial layer, then moves on to the ovaries.

"Multiple tiny right, multiple tiny left". And we're done.

Uh - whut? In the modicum of research I've done, I know that follicles are supposed to have at least some numerical dimension to them for us to get to the next level. I realize that we're only on day 12 of my happy fun cycle, but it don't take no rocket scientist to realize there are no numbers anywhere in the phrase 'multiple tiny'.

So I ask. What does this mean? Why no numbers? His reply - there's lots of potential there, but at this point nothing to measure. It's still too early, but I sure do like the sound of that word, potential.

I have to go back Sunday morning at 7:45 am for the next ultrasound and more blood work to see what's cookin'. So nothing much to report, but so far so good I suppose. At least there's potential.

And maybe it's just me, but I find it quite serendipitous that I'll be heading in for the next round of egg hunting on Easter Sunday. Let's hope the eggs we see that day aren't just ones made of chocolate!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?