Today Violet and I walked around the yard, peeking at the beginnings of green. She gripped my right ring finger, tugging me gently from one mound of sprouting green to another.
"What is dis, mommy?"
"That will be a tulip. It's a flower."
"Oh, my like it! What color will it be?"
"I don't know yet -- it's too early to see."
"My think it will be ownge, or wed, or lellow, mommy!"
"You're probably right, sweet pea."
She stooped close to the tulip bud, he nose hovering a bout an inch above it.
"My can't see the color yet, mommy. My want pink!"
We moved into this house in the doldrums of November, everything was dry and brown by then, so we do not yet know the treasures of our perennial landscaping yet. I cannot guarantee that the tulip will be an acceptable pink any more than I can guarantee just about anything right now.
The lab results from our initial fertility testing have been returned. All of my labs are within the normal range, a little on the low side of normal, but normal yet the same. The results of my pelvic ultrasound were normal. I am ovulating. Unfortunately, though Scott apparently produces a prodigious number of sperm, only about 40% of them are moving. The ones that do move are in great shape, so that's good. I'll start Clomid tomorrow. We'll schedule an IUI the next time I detect a hormone surge. The nurse will rinse and spin the spermies, then thread a delicate catheter into my uterus, depositing the sperm there in hopes that the sleepy swimmers can get that much closer to my eggy goodness.
Looking at the lush green all around us, who knew that fertility could be so fragile?