Wednesday, June 17, 2009

A Definition

I love my husband. And you know why? Because if you look in the dictionary under sweet, optimistic, or (most importantly) naive, you'll find a picture of him. Allow me to illustrate with a conversation from yesterday:

Him: Did you take your morning estrace?
Me: Yeah, but really? What's the point?
Him: I'm still hoping George will surprise you.
Me: Honey, George isn't going to surprise me. Today's 15 days post retrieval. Even the stupid internet cheap POS pregnancy tests would have shown something if I was pregnant today.
Him: Okay.
Me: You really think there's going to be a surprise.
Him: I'm hoping George will surprise you.

It's cute, no? So for his sake, I will continue to take the little blue pills and the damn PIO, despite my blubbering in a doctor's office yesterday (see Chez Perky for that one), because, after all, I'd hate for him to say "I told you so" on something that critical, right? (but I still haven't made an appointment to go in for my beta...)

(for the record? No surprises this morning, other than I still feel like crap. And not in a pregnant kind of way - in a "oh my god where are my lungs and all my energy?" kind of way)