I've never liked the idea of submarines.
Having limited oxygen, sitting in a confined space and being underwater when I can't even swim, does not a good combination of circumstances make.
What I do like about submarines are periscopes.
Today I got to play with one, of sorts. Unfortunately I didn't get to steer it myself, and it wasn't the deep blue ocean I got to peer into, but rather ET's pink bits.
Ironically enough, the 'pink' bits turned out to be 'varying shades of grey' bits. It wasn't too unlike watching a nature program on the old black & white telly we have in the shed.
Up the tunnel of love it went, before popping out into the oasis of her abdominal motel, with stunning views of her empty bladder and uterine opening.
Prime reproductive real estate, and there are vacancies.
There are passing customers, in the form of big juicy follicles, they just don't seem to want to stay the night for some reason.
Now the interesting bit!
The size of the big juicy follicle staring back at us from the left ovary, measured 16mm. This lead the specialist to predict ovulation on CD12 or 13. We have NEVER had a positive from an OPK before CD15.
To keep a good eye on this, we get to go back for another scan on Sunday, CD12, to check it's progress.
The specialist seems to think that ovulation will be imminent then.
If this is the case, we may very well have been getting incorrect LH surge readings & positive results from the various ovulation prediction kits we've been using. (Anyone else ever heard of this, a positive OPK result 3-5 days after actual ovulation?)
Annoying to think we may have wasted so much time on this, but if it's true, then a slight change in Spencer's deployment schedule could have us hitting the bullseye. That would be a huge boost for our optimism.
So mini me will be getting a couple of earlier than predicted outings (and innings, and outings, and innings, and outings...) this weekend, just in case.
I'm very optimistic now again, not only because we 'might' (touching my wood) have found a problem we can do something about, but more so because the clinic will give us a scan on a Sunday!
Getting treatment on a Sunday here in Holland, means there has been a shift in the cosmos, the gates of hell have been blown to the four corners of existence and the horsemen of the apocalypse have turned on their demonic ways and taken up gardening instead. Surely all signs that the spawn of Spencer is about to be unleashed on the world.
It's all 'maybe', 'perhaps', and 'possibly' until Sunday, so, in the meantime, if you'll excuse me, I have a left fallopian tube to aim for...