Do you ever wonder what it is about certain times of the year, or even specific dates in your life time that always seem to have importance?  My English teacher in High School while discussing the topic of  Homer’s Odyssey (the poet, not Simpson) and explained the “Ides of March” during a lecture in class.  I was fascinated by this!

Mostly because she was as old as Methuselah, and her arms were going, and shaking her blouse with puffy sleeves everywhere, seriously ranting about so much that bobby pins actually came flying out of her hair.   So it got me wondering-I thought back over my life and March was never anything major for me.   No ides that I could think of.  Novembers-yes.  March-no.  It was then that I realized that the months of November seemed to be rather challenging for me year after year.  Some seriously bad or life altering things have happened during Novembers over my life-now it seems to that I can add in Decembers and Januarys too.

Now to me, it will always be “Beware of the Ides of November-January.”  And I too, am shaking my hands about in the air with as much vigor (but a tiny bit more youth) as the morning Mrs. Brown shook her bobbie pins to the linoleum floor.

I have a confession-my  IVF cycle back in October-I secretly thought this had to be it-and not only was it going to be it-it would be it and with 2 babies to give me back what was taken away.  Twins, I was sure of it.  What made me so sure of it-the IVF nurse on the date the morning of my egg retrieval told me what the due date would be if I our IVF was successful (and with a healthy baby). July 9.   Woah.  Chills.

me-“Seriously, your kidding?”

nurse-“No, 7 and a 9-sounds like lucky numbers to me!”

That was Ava’s estimated due date.  That was it, sitting there back in October-how could this not mean something incredible?  And then immediately-what’s with that date?  Geesh.    Maybe I was really supposed to have a baby in July, otherwise it is just too coincidental right?    WRONG.  That date will come and go this year with no baby in my arms (not mine at least), certainly not twins and given my constant  front row tickets to the shit show-I could very well still be NOT pregnant to boot.

That is why I was thrilled when I got the tentative date for my transfer last week-because it wasn’t 1.12.11.  The first thing I did Christmas morning when I awoke and found out that I was no longer pregnant-was pull open the calendar and count 17 days ahead (the clinic said my FET would be set for 4 days after ovulation) because I knew it was going to be close.  I breathed out an enormous sigh of relief when I saw the estimated FET would be on 1.10. or 1.11.  Most likely 1.11.1, which just seemed so clean-a bunch of 1’s.  A perfect start!  Everything logical starts at 1.  This is a good sign.

No it’s not.  Never is.

One year to the day-and what looks likely to be the exact same hour that Ava was taken out of Uohdee by a doctor, another doctor is scheduled to place embryo/s back into Uohdee, smack in the middle of a forcasted Nor’easter no less.

No really-I’m not kidding…this is the current prediction for Boston by Wednesday at 7pm.  Keep in mind I live 50 miles North of Boston and will only have a 2 hour heads up if any embryos made the thaw…

1.12.11 – Ava’s Day.  Nor’easter.  F.E.T

Fan-fucking-tastic!

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