It seems unnecessarily cruel to have to spend part of Father's Day weekend at the fertility clinic.
Not a big part (just long enough to have an ultrasound and wait God knows how long to been seen by a doctor afterwards) but still, cruel just the same. Particularly since this visit signals the failure of another cycle and the start of more poking, prodding and general torment.
But then again, there's nothing particularly kind about infertility, so I shouldn't be the least bit surprised by this.
Nothing much surprises me these days.
Good times, my friends. Good times.
And I've just remembered that I forgot to go get a lottery ticket. Someone else is going to win my $14 million.
Clearly I'm going to need some chocolate tonight.