the red fleece

My beloved friend Oat, who often comments on this blog (and is the apple of Roccie's eye), likes to come up with absolutely fantastic labels and titles for things and important events in her friends' lives. For example, when I had cervical dysplasia in 2004, she referred to the whole thing as 'the cervical odyssey.' Or when we dream of living closer to one another (she is in Boston, I am in Canada), she has come up with a vision of this border-straddling housing/working complex named after the Internatio.nal Hou.se of Pan.cakes. Her creativity is like a creek in spring. Oat likes to talk about the uterine lining as the red fleece, where embies go to nestle.

A propos my red fleece, here is the scoop.

Whilst I was whiling (I should say willing) away the hours at work yesterday, Mr. A was in receipt of a very important phone call. It turns out that my lining is apparently just great. What. Thick enough and triple patterned. How 'bout that.

I did have one or two moments of thinking they might have sent the wrong pdf file to Washington. You know, lining from patient Augustina instead of patient Augusta. An honest error. So easy to make.

Trust is just as hard to build as hope. Harder even.

The SG folks have said that we just need to get the doctor's final clearance, and then we can proceed with selecting a donor. Wow. And I kept wondering all day yesterday whether they would tell us that we have to do a second mock cycle. Apparently not.