Counting my Chickens Before They are Assistedly Hatched

Today I went in for my daily bloodletting/date with a transvaginal ultrasound device. I had a different dr. One of my main concerns about switching clinics was the lack of personal attention I would be receiving. I wasn't keen on getting intimate with a rotating cadre of white coats. While this whole process has stripped me of any of my remaining modesty, I do like to do whatever George Michael tells me. But in actuality, I have been far less promiscuous than I expected. My dr has done the majority of my exams and another dr has done the honors in his absence.

So I was a little disappointed to see yet another stranger, but when he lowered that exam table all the way down so that I didn't have to leap off of it (I am quite short and that table is always unreasonably high for someone trying to nurture a womb full of rapidly expanding follicles), I officially felt like a clinic slut - I love them all, and they can all have a go at me.

In addition to losing my modesty, I have also lost a great deal of hope. I am trying to take a realistic and practical approach, but it is hard not to get excited about the growing menagerie of follicles during the exam. I also don't want to get caught up in the follicle count, but each one has the potential to become that beautiful little person who will one day look up to me and say "I didn't ask to be born!"