Drunk Girls Always Get Pregnant

I had a good doctor's appointment yesterday, with several follicles on the low 20s. Tonight is my last night of "jiffy pop" medicine, tomorrow I do the trigger shots at exactly 8pm, Monday morning I have a final fertility massage scheduled, and then Tuesday, Jill is taking me up to Syracuse for retrieval. The final retrieval.

Bubbles will be heading up from Baltimore on Thursday to take me to the transfer, which should be Friday (could be Saturday). She has been saying for two years that I need to go to the doctor drunk on procedure day. "Cuz drunk girls always get pregnant."

I'm giving in. She's bringing a split of champagne, and I will be drinking mimosas in my travel coffee mug. I figure one will get me buzzed, considering I haven't had a drink in several months and haven't gotten properly drunk since Babe's birthday in February.

Even though I heard everything I wanted to do at my appointment, I couldn't shake an image out of me head. Of me pulling up to my brother's house in Richmond, and collapsing in tears in my sister-in-law's arms. I'll be headed there at the end of the month, and I pray that that image doesn't come true.

My eyes kept tearing up, I turned the radio up louder, turned music on, trying to sing along. Nothing could get that image out of my head. Finally, I turned my yoga CD on and listened to the chanting and prayer in that music. It helped a little.