Someone recently suggested to me that the build up to the date would be worse than the actual birthday and its aftermath, and she was right. I'm surprisingly calm. Rationally speaking, I don't appear to have turned into a cartoonish old crone overnight. I have an IUI
Dr. Cuddles scanned my ovaries yesterday, and was pleased to see my 40-year old ovaries cranked out three follicles ("that's a good number on clomid"). She also remarked again that my lining looks fantastic. To an aging Asherman's girl concerned about the particular clomid side-effect of thinning the lining, this was the equivalent of going to a bar and getting carded. We're tracking my LH surge by bloodwork each morning, which is a logistical bitch given my job pressures, but now at least I can rest assured that this month we will have given it our best shot.