This struck me a while back when Chris and I were at yet another appointment.
I noticed after I got "undressed from the waist down, please" that my husband tucked my underwear in my pants so that they were out of sight. For whatever reason, and I know I'm not alone in this, having my underwear in full view of the doctor is too intimate and they need to be hidden. Considering what is at the doctor's eye level, I do realize how absurd that sounds, but it's a ritual I've taken part in since my first ob/gyn visit many, many moons ago. I also must wear socks. But that's another story.
Back to the fact that Chris knows to hide my underwear. He shouldn't know this. That should be part of the mystery of gyn appointments men know nothing about. He shouldn't be so familiar with a gynecological exam room. He's seen the stirrups more than most women will in their lifetime. Most men have no idea the stirrups are normally clothed in pot holders. Chris does. Dealing with infertility you quickly learn to accept the absurd and abnormal as your new normal, and more often than not you're going through the motions and not really reflecting on how different your life is than others in terms of getting pregnant. But sometimes, like today, it hits you.
After Chris hid my underwear, we got started with the ultrasound and things are progressing really nicely. I don't have exact numbers, but there were a lot of active follies, good sized, smiling for the camera. Even the dud ovary is producing follicles, which is amazing. So far my response is great and it looks like the retrieval will be Sunday. Which, if my math is correct, means we may find out before Christmas what the results are. I don't want to sound bratty, but Santa really does owe us.