Yesterday was my mock transfer and sonogram. I went in with an open mind and full bladder. I didn’t flinch as I entered the room and saw the huge dildo of an ultrasound stick already gooped up and ready to party; rather, I let out a chuckle as if to say “hello old friend, I remember you.” What I didn’t remember was the sting that comes with the mock transfer. It involves a long plastic needle attached to a large syringe which they use to shoot liquid up my hoohah. I’ll save you the details. The results however are worth sharing. My doctor said I have no scar tissue from my previous surgeries and my uterus looks great (flattery will get you everywhere). He was quick and I thanked him for his speed in ending my discomfort. He said, and I quote “I’m efficient and know your uterus well.” I told him that’s what all the guys say. We laughed, He gave me a hug. Told me to put on a pad as I might be “leaky” and we scheduled a date to make a baby. This. Is. Happening. I was led to a room where a nice nurse pulled out a box of needles and a vial of drugs and step-by-step walked me through the process. I will begin administering Leuprolide shots to myself nightly starting Monday. I hate needles, but love babies. And, although the money we will spend on this round could have been a solid down payment on a house, something else we would love someday, we’ve decided when we are old and gray we won’t be reminiscing about our fabulous house and the nice things we owned, but instead will be surrounded by loved ones. And if nothing comes from this round, at least we will know that we tried. For me, not knowing is the hardest part. So everyone: get ready. Get ready to laugh, get ready to cry, get ready to KNOW – this baby making train is leaving the station. Destination: Unknown. The train ticket costs more than my college education so let’s hope we end up somewhere nice. This metaphor has gone on way too long, but there is no turning back now… So here we gooooooooooooo! Ch