The last couple months I've been poked, prodded and seen by what feels like every department of the Micheal Callaghan Hospital. They have taken gallons of blood and I won't mention how they got the pictures of my ovaries, just to tell me that everything is fine and to take a few months to consider the risks and side effects of fertility treatments.
Now this week finally a ray of sunshine in my otherwise gloomy fertility life. It's Sam's turn to be poked and prodded. The next step of our "fertility challenge" is a seaman analysis. I thought I would enjoy Sam getting more then his far share of humiliation from a process that has stripped me of practically all my dignity, but so far I'm just waiting on pins and needles for the results.
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