Today is the day we go to see the doctor about Clomid and I’m beginning to feel very nervous. Worried that he’ll tell me he doesn’t think it’s a good idea for one reason or another. That some how I’ll be rejected, denied the opportunity to be a mother and left with one more obstacle in my way.

I realize how ridiculous this sounds, but it’s how I feel; please don’t try to convince me otherwise. The fact is, I’ll know his response in about two hours, if at that point my worries are confirmed, then you can feel free to try and comfort me. However, I already know that he is not the end-all, be-all, with regards to baby-making so even if he does say “no”, I’m well aware that he is A) not my only option and B) not the one controlling my ovaries and uterus. So, there!

So I’m off! Off to the doctor, wearing my teenage-angst panties, feeling a bit defensive and armed with pessimism, prepared for disappointment. Yay!

Oh and trust me, even if we walk out with a prescription today, my next blog will not be anymore optimistic than this one. I’m okay with that, and you should be too, no one likes to be vulnerable.

I wonder what Brett is thinking?