Our options widen…but not on the kids’ parties front

I had a great email today from our legal department.  They told us that the US government forsees no legal impediment based on our visa status for adopting in the US, either domestically or internationally. They are also aware of two other families from my organisation who have previously adopted successfully, however one family had a few complications over the legal issues.  However, it sounds like if you have money to burn, the legal issues will disappear.  I don’t mean in a corrupt way, but rather the more you pay the more you get in terms of service.

We asked our legal team to help us look into our visa status so we would know if it was actually possible for us as ‘legal aliens’ to adopt if we decide to stay in the US.  It took about three weeks for everything to be double checked, but it was worth the wait and now we know….we can adopt!

I also had a phone call from our IVF nurse co-ordinator today.  We have an appointment next week with her to go through the whole process in more depth than the doctor did – apparently it will take about 1.5hrs!!  She sounded very friendly and helpful (I guess you have to be do that job!)  She also informed me something the doctor forgot to tell us last week.

The Embryology lab is going through a refurbishment in late June/early July!

Fortunately it sounds like it won’t affect us as we would expect an egg retrieval in mid July.  I hope they don’t over run their re-furb or delay it because that would suck going through all that just to have our cycle cancelled because of some lazy painters!!! But I’m sure they wouldn’t let something like that happen.

I’m currently on Cycle Day 19 and I’m feeling great.  I have had the odd pain, but nothing like the sharp pains from the last two IUI cycles.  Fingers crossed they don’t come back that it was just a side effect of the progesterone and nothing else nasty causing them.  Our break from trying to conceive has been quite fun; next weekend we are planning a trip to our local beer festival and Bush Gardens to try out their new roller coaster ‘Tempesto’!

Physically the break is doing me good.  Mentally, I’ve still had a few odd moments.  This last weekend we didn’t go to our friend’s daughter’s 3rd birthday party at the petting zoo.  Now, I love animals. Love love love them, and who doesn’t love to pet animals!  But I freaked out at the last minute about going someplace where everyone else will have a kid with them and we would be the odd ones out.  I mean, why would anyone go to a petting zoo without a kid in tow?  If it had been a party at their house or somewhere more neutral in that sense I wouldn’t have had a problem. It was just the idea of feeling like we didn’t belong, with the potential for random strangers asking ‘oh which one is your kid’? Or, like the time a random granny noticed us at a Christmas tree lighting ceremony, told us ‘It’s OK that you don’t have a kid’. Yeah, I’ve been there before….and right now it is not for me.  I felt bad that I couldn’t pull myself together to go, I hope they can understand.  I’m sure they do.  I just wish I didn’t feel like this.

So to end this post on a positive note…here is a picture of a cheeky goat that we know.

Who wouldn't want to pet this cheeky goat? Oh that would be me, big chicken pants.

Who wouldn’t want to pet this cheeky goat? Oh that would be me, the big chicken pants.

The dreaded 2WW and being away from home

Beautiful Bavaria

Beautiful Bavaria

I’m almost halfway through my 2 Week Wait (2WW).  I am currently in another country across the other side of the pond for a work trip.  Despite the beautiful location in deep Bavaria and being kept busy with work all week, I am finding this a very different type of 2WW to any of the others.  Being away from home and the 6 hour time difference has made it hard – on both of us I think – just to talk about things and how each of us is doing.  A break from talking about Trying to Conceive, IUI and other baby making related stuff has been refreshing I will admit.  BUT as I continue to have random pains, and thoughts of what is to be this time next week, I really miss Chris.  Yes, of course, I miss him whenever I go away for work trips, but this time is harder.  This time it is make or break.

With this being our third IUI, this time next week we will either be preparing to be proud parents (and not knowing if it is twins yet!!!) or preparing for a long journey on some other new path that we haven’t talked much about yet.  Woah – scary stuff whatever happens.

As I am currently teaching 36 international students (mostly male, of varying age and backgrounds!) it is very difficult to hide any of the side effects I am having whilst I am ‘up on stage’ in front of everyone. Mostly trying to hide behind the lectern from the sharp pains I am experiencing!!  Ordinarily after my day at work I would talk to Chris about these kinds of things.  So I am talking to you all instead, sorry about that 😉

These pains suck, and I think that they may potentially be getting worse that I am going to have to ask the doctor about it next time.  I really hope I don’t get what happened in my last cycle where I was doubled over in the supermarket, people watching and wondering if I was OK, debating whether I should go to an emergency doctor or not!  I know that if anyone here sees me do that they would make a big fuss instantly, then I would have to explain it.  Fingers crossed that cycle was just a one off.

Count down to make or break T-8 days……scary.

Irritable Bowel Syndrome and Trying to Conceive

I have Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS).  It is a relatively common disorder of the gut.  The weird thing about IBS is that no one really quite knows what causes it exactly.  Symptoms are variable depending on the nature of the IBS.  For me, I suffer from abdominal pain and diarrheoa.  I’ve had it since I was a late teen.  But I don’t really remember when it truly started, but it got worse at university.  There is no cure for IBS, only treatment of the symptoms.  Approximately 1 in 5 people will suffer from IBS in their lives, some may never realise they have it.  Symptoms vary on scale and nature and is slightly more common in women than men.

I am writing about IBS because last night as I boarded the plane for my transatlantic flight and experienced an awkward situation.  As I sat down the family next to me asked if I could switch seats with their son (about 13yrs old) so they could all sit next to each other.  Sure I said, no problem, I don’t mind moving a row back!  But then they pointed to the dreaded in centre seat.  I had specifically booked an aisle seat because I go to the toilet a lot.  And as this was a red eye flight I would not do well sitting here, I would have asked the person next to me to move at least 10 times so I could go to the toilet.  I looked at the boy, realised he was 13 and thought he would be perfectly fine there, plus one of his parents could always sit on their own if they were worried about him.  So I politely declined to switch seats and told them of my predicament to be near the toilet.  But then the mother told me she couldn’t swap because she had a fear of flying.  Yes I felt guilty, but I was very willing to swap with anyone in an aisle seat.  Eventually a nice lady the other side of the plane volunteered to sit in the boys seat so I could sit in her aisle seat.  But it just reminded me of the hidden side of IBS, even though I told the family my reasoning, they seemed pretty pissed at me.  They didn’t understand.  I know of people with IBS who have disabled toilet keys because when it is bad, it is very bad!!  I don’t have this extreme requirement, but IBS is a hidden disability.

I self manage my symptoms.  I know that stress makes it worse, and eating certain foods such as potatoes and pineapple can give me killer cramps and half a night on the toilet.  I have simply learned to avoid certain foods or when I have a craving, give in and just expect it and manage it when it happens,  I prefer it that way rather than take drugs.  I tried a lot of things at university to relieve the symptoms, but ultimately cutting out the stress seemed to work the best.

In order to diagnose IBS the doctor will put you through a series of tests to rule out something more serious, like Chron’s disease, cancer of the ovaries or coeliac disease.  These are tested usually with blood and stool tests.  For me, the doctor said that there was a possibility of having endometriosis, which can only be detected through a laporoscopy.  But before doing this invasive procedure she wanted me to try an exclusion diet to see if there were certain foods that increased the symptoms.  After several weeks of hunger, cravings and a very large shopping bill, we figured that IBS was likely.  So I never had a laporoscopy to rule out endometriosis.  My current Reproductive Endocrinologist has suggested there is a chance I do have endo, but a laporoscopy can do more harm than good to my fertility if it is just a little bit of endo.  I find it strange that I have no definite diagnosis whether I have one, the other or both conditions.

As I get further into my two week wait and I get pains even a couple of days after IUI, I wonder are they IBS pains?  Or are they related to the IUI and the progesterone? What has IBS got to do with infertility?  Well I didn’t think there was much of a linkage, but as always google shows you something interesting.  There were two interesting conclusions that came out of my, albeit brief, search, in general the research is pretty thin on the ground.

There is no evidence to suggest IBS causes infertility.  A couple of sites discuss this and conclude that there is no evidence of a linkage.

IBS increases risk of miscarriage and ectopic pregnancy.  A research study* looked at 100 000 women who became pregnant during the period 1990 to 2008.  Of these 100 000 women 6% suffered a miscarriage, which is considered to be the ‘normal’ statistic.  Of these 100 000 women, 26 000 women were diagnosed with IBS.  Of these women diagnosed with IBS, 7.5% lost their babies.  That is a significant difference, increasing the risk of miscarriage for women with IBS by 30%.  It should be noted that IBS is linked with other disorders which are also potentially linked to miscarriage, for example chronic fatigue syndrome and fibromyalgia, therefore it is not wholly conclusive evidence.  The authors wanted to stress that the chance of miscarriage was still small, and that they wanted to highlight the need for more research into IBS and fertility.  I have not been able to find anything more up to date than this report from 2012.  Maybe they are still researching it…maybe no one carried it forward. But I think it definitely deserves some more attention.

*Increased Risk of Miscarriage and Ectopic Pregnancy Among Women With Irritable Bowel Syndrome, Khashan, Ali S. et al. Clinical Gastroenterology and Hepatology , Volume 10 , Issue 8 , 902 – 909

Reflections upon being pregnant in a war zone – what scares me

The big question: why did I write about something that happened way back in 2007?  Why did I open up some old wounds by writing and thinking about when I was pregnant in Iraq? For the most part, it’s because I drove for four hours on my own, so I had plenty of time to think.  Very dangerous, I know!  Thinking AND driving!  But actually, it is because I have a fear, a fear of being pregnant again.  It sounds rather silly writing it down on an infertility blog. But of course I want to be pregnant more than anything in the world, but this fear is about suffering the ‘side effects’ of severe morning sickness like I did before in 2007.

Hypermesis Education & Research Foundation

Hyperemesis Education & Research Foundation

Last time I was pregnant I suffered severe morning sickness (also known as Hyperemesis gravidarum) and horrific abdominal pains (compared to my normal Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) pains, these were what I considered to be horrific anyway!)  The worst of the symptoms lasted for over three weeks and the nausea continued until the end of my pregnancy of 10 weeks.  There was no way I could have worked during this period.  But to what extent were those symptoms as a result of the environment and conditions I was experiencing at the time – heat, exhaustion, stress, poor food quality and choice?

When Chris and I first met with our Reproductive Endocrinologist (RE), Chris asked her if my previous pregnancy could be a clue as to why we were not pregnant yet.  I didn’t think it would be so I hadn’t mentioned the severe morning sickness in my questionnaire.  The RE did confirm that it was not likely to be associated.  But, now that I think about it, perhaps it wasn’t such a silly question after all.  Because quite frankly, any explanation to our fertility troubles would be nice right now.  I’m quite bored of asking ‘Why me??’

Today I am 12 Days Past IUI number 2 (12DPIUI#2), and so far potential symptoms of pregnancy:

  • Short sharp cramps just around both sides of my ovaries
  • Sharp cramp like pains under the left side and right side of my ribs.
  • Sore boobs, but not tender to touch, just achey.
  • Today I have felt a little nauseous, but Chris has had a funny tummy today, so potentially we ate something funny.

And that is it, not much to go by, but the sharp pains reminded me of my previous pregnancy so I have been more positive about this cycle so far.  Just two more days to go til the big test.

I am afraid to be pregnant but want to be pregnant more than anything.

And that sums up my emotional roller coaster right now 🙂 /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/——

On Being Pregnant in a War Zone Pt 2

Spring 2007 continued

Finally, two days after discovering I was pregnant, I received my ‘Call Forward’ to fly to a US Military Hospital in Kuwait.  By this point, I had made my excuses to colleagues (An Ovarian Cyst that probably needed surgery), eaten just two crackers, hid under my bed from another five rocket attacks, slept a lot, caught up on several episodes of 24 and thoroughly read up on pregnancy and ectopic pregnancies.  I was exhausted and feeling weak.  I could barely pick up my daypack, body armour and rifle; the bag was packed for only 2 nights – that officially made me pathetically weak.

I waited for my ride to Kuwait in the helicopter departures lounge.  I was the only one there waiting.  A crew member called my name and asked me to follow him, he took my bag from me (he probably thought I was actually a real medevac patient).  My pre-deployment training was running through my head.  How to get on and off a helicopter, depending on the type of helicopter, depends on where you can and can’t load/unload.  This helicopter, a lynx, had its engine off anyway, so it didn’t matter.  There was no chance of getting my head chopped off or sucked into the intakes.  The crew member showed me to my seat, he was overly jolly considering it was 0130 AM.    It looked like I was getting the helicopter all to myself.  The crew member turned out to be the door gunner.  The two pilots arrived shortly after and introduced themselves.  They were HILARIOUS, typical Army Air Corps pilots.  I was given a headset so I could listen in to all their intercom chatter.

As the engines started, I began to feel nervous.  Last time I flew into Iraq, we got shot at and rocketed.  A nice welcome from the Insurgents.  But suddenly my nerves were overtaken by pain.  Pain in my shoulder.  I read about this in ectopic pregnancies.  Just as I started to worry and think the worst, the gunner handed me some night vision goggles.  He pointed out the window.  I looked through the goggles and I could see the shimmering lights of Basrah City, and the oil fields.  It was magical.  It was bitter-sweet.

As soon as we crossed the border into Kuwait, the gunner closed the door and removed his body armour, indicating to me I should do the same.  The comedy pilots debated where they should land in the US base.  Is this not something you would know before taking off??!  We flew over at least 25 parked up black hawks.  Do we even have this many helicopters in the British Forces??  After a few laps of the base we found somewhere to land.  No one was there to greet us. Well it was 0230AM, I wasn’t too surprised at this!  Whilst I received a comedy show, one of the pilots managed to call through to the hospital.  We were at the wrong helipad.  No shit Sherlock!  Of course, this base was big enough to have two helipads.  We were told to wait there and a nurse would come pick me up.  I could have been sleepwalking at this point, the next hour was a blur.

Somehow, I woke up lying down on a hospital bed, trying to answer the doctor’s questions.  I was immediately put on an IV drip as I was severely dehydrated.  Wow, I felt almost instantly better, but it was temporary.  Next was the vaginal ultrasound.  The whole reason I was in Kuwait.  I had no clue what to expect, no one really explained what was going to happen and that the nurse would be male.  The nurse told me I was about 6 weeks pregnant, and he printed out a picture of the ‘blob’.  Because that is all it was, I wasn’t really experienced in ultrasound photos at this stage of pregnancy.  He reassured me that everything looked just fine.  No ectopic pregnancy.  Phew!!!  So what now?

Well I had a few more hours with the IV drip, and I was ‘quizzed’ by one of the nurses – what was I going to call my baby?  Had I thought of names?  Would I name the baby after him?  Would I email him to let me know how the baby was? He was genuinely excited for me.  Bless him, because he seemed to be the only one.  I was given a prescription for the nausea (no idea what the drug was called), some folic acid and vitamin D and told I HAD to eat, for the sake of my baby.

I was taken to a temporary bunk where there was one other British female who was recovering from surgery from Appendicitis.  She was an Officer so I kept myself to myself.  The next day, I was driven to the ‘weekend spa resort’.  This is where battle weary soldiers were sent to from Iraq at least once in their 6 month tour to get a break.  It had a makeshift Jacuzzi (more like a paddling pool), sunbed loungers, massages, decent internet, volleyball, and computer games.  Lots of computer games.  Everyone was in civvies (civilian attire), I had not packed any civilian clothes, so I walked around in my pyjama shorts and a T-shirt.  I felt free!  No, body armour, rifle or rocket attacks.  I still felt nauseous so I didn’t even get to enjoy one of the ‘two cans of beer’ we were allowed.  I tried to eat, I really wanted to, so I took one of the tablets I was prescribed.  That seemed to do the job, and I managed to get half a plate of food down me.  The nurse would be proud of me.  Despite the ‘spa’ environment, it was lonely and I tried to get on the earliest flight back to Iraq, I missed my squadron, I missed my friends and I knew I was letting them down right now.  After one more night in Kuwait and I was back in Iraq, feeling a little better, but the pains were still coming.  This sucked.

Back in Basrah, I had an appointment at the medical center to discuss what next.  I had a completely different doctor, so had to start my story from the very beginning.  I think this doctor was the first to show any compassion.  He also told me that I was lucky to get the prescription for the nausea because it was not allowed in the UK, it was up to me if I wanted to keep taking it.  To date I still have no idea what this drug was because I threw it in the bin after the British Doctor told me this.  Of course the next step was to ‘medevac’ me back to the UK because I was not allowed to be in the theatre of operations anymore, it was too dangerous for my unborn baby.

A total of seven days had passed since I discovered I was pregnant.  The only person who knew I was pregnant was my boyfriend (and of course the doctors and nurses I had met).  As I sat in the hospital’s morale, welfare and recreational area waiting for my pre-flight checkup, I read many letters from random people wishing our soldiers well.  It’s amazing so many people care to take time out of their day to write to ‘unknown soldiers’.  Although the letters were clearly not aimed at pregnant female soldiers, their words were comforting.  But this comfort slowly turned back to guilt.  And the biggest guilt was yet to come.  As I boarded the C-17 aircraft to fly home with the other 20 ‘Medevacs’, I sat down amongst people who had broken arms, missing legs, wounds and scars to their face.  Then there were the two bed patients, one of whom was in a controlled coma so that he could fly back and be with his family.  He was probably not going to live for much longer.

I hadn’t told anyone I was flying back to the UK, I couldn’t; I was shamed, confused and exhausted.  I just needed some time on my own to figure out what was going on.  My life was never going to be the same again.

On Being Pregnant in a War Zone Pt 1

On being pregnant in a war zone Pt 1

Spring 2007

I winced as the doctor examined my stomach.  The pain was excruciating.  As he prodded, he said “feel here…see?”  I felt my own stomach where he indicated – it was hard, not squishy like normal.  I continued to wince as he poked around my tummy.  “This is your poo.  You are constipated.  We will get you some laxatives and you should be better in a few……”.  The piercing alarm sounded.  We both looked at each other and quickly dived on to the floor.  My body armour and helmet were in the waiting room, no chance of me grabbing hold of it in time.  I leopard crawled under the table, it probably wouldn’t offer me much protection. The doctor grabbed his own body armour and helmet just as there was a loud thud and the ground shaked.  As he put his body armour on and quickly threw on his helmet, he mumbled “Here we go again!”  I wasn’t sure if he was trying to make conversation or if he had genuine grievance by the incoming rockets.  The way I was feeling about these rockets I felt it was probably the latter.  After a few minutes of what was probably the last rocket (usually 2-3 at a time), the doctor quickly stood up and said, “I’ve got to go, I’m on call for the crash emergency team.  Wait here until the all clear, someone will be with you soon.”  And he ran out of his office.

As I lay there on the dusty floor waiting for the all clear siren to sound, I felt stupid.  I felt stupid and embarrassed that all I had was constipation. I wondered how it had happened.  For the last 8 days I had hardly eaten a thing, I felt nauseous and I had horrific stomach pains.  These pains were sharp and short, sort of like my IBS pains, but twice as painful as usual. But this didn’t seem like IBS.  I promised myself I would go to the doctor after 7 days of feeling like this.

The all clear siren sounded. I got up and left the office to speak to the corporal at the reception desk. I explained what had happened, she told me to take a seat in the waiting room and another Doctor would see me shortly. I waited for half an hour. All I could think about was that someone must have been injured by the rocket attack, otherwise my doctor would be back by now. This made me very sad.

I was called into the very same office I had been in just 30 minutes ago, but this doctor was different. I explained that the previous doctor was just about to prescribe me something for constipation. He asked me to tell him from the beginning what the problem was and the symptoms I was suffering. He wasn’t going to sign anything until he made his own diagnosis.

He asked me all sorts of questions about my IBS, what I had been eating, how often etc…it all made sense to me. New environment, crappy food, stress from rockets. Usually my IBS presents with horrific diarrhea, but now my IBS was giving me constipation. Not uncommon, right? But this doctor asked me (like the other doctor) “Is there a chance you could be pregnant?” I laughed and said “No, very unlikely!”, he said, “Well let’s be sure, I want you to take a pregnancy test before I prescribe you anything”. “Sure….” I said, but muttered to myself “…if you want to waste our time”. The doctor called in the nurse and explained I was to take a pregnancy test. I dutifully peed in the cup and together we sat down and waited for the results. The nurse tried to make small talk about the recent rocket attack. She proceeded to tell me that a lot of girls try to get pregnant on purpose to avoid deploying or wanting to be sent home. But then her words slowly slurred to a halt, she paused and exclaimed with a look of unexpected shock “errrr you are………pregnant! Ummm, congratulations?!?”.

I could feel the blood drain from my face in disbelief. I haven’t had a period in years after my depo provera issues, how was this possible? What is going to happen now? I’m not ready for this. I’m not one of these girls who purposefully gets pregnant just to be sent home. I volunteered to deploy to Iraq! I volunteered to be with the rest of my unit. Despite the shit getting real with the rockets, I wanted to be there, to do my job, to serve my country.

I could hear in the distant background, the nurse asking me all sorts of questions about if this is what I wanted? Was I excited? Did I need anything? But I was in too much shock to answer her questions other than mumble a no.

The doctor who made me take the test called me back into his office and said “Well, now we can explain the constipation and nausea. But this doesn’t explain your pain. We need to make sure you are not having an ectopic pregnancy. Let’s get you to the Emergency Hospital for a checkup by the specialist. I was hurried out of the doctor’s office, into the back of an ambulance to drive the half mile to the emergency hospital. This was the most embarrassing thing of it all. Being driven into the ER entrance. Pregnant. Not shot, wounded or even sick. Just pregnant.

I had no idea what an ectopic pregnancy really meant. I was prodded and poked all over again by several nurses and doctors. They even checked my constipation and try to help it along, but there was nothing in there. There was no poo. After all, I had barely eaten for the last 7 days. I hadn’t pooed in 4 days.

Finally, my boyfriend arrived at the hospital (yes we were deployed together, we got it together during pre-deployment training). He had no idea why I was in the hospital, he had left me at the doctors only 2 hours ago! He looked panicked. I looked at him and tried to get the words out, but I just started crying. It was the first time I cried since finding out my news. Eventually he got it out of me, and we both cried. We cried conspicuously together as we were not really sure how else to do it, this crying thing.

The hospital facilities on our camp did not have a vaginal ultrasound machine. The closest one was in another country – Kuwait at a US Airforce base. They wanted to check if the pregnancy was ectopic as the symptoms matched. I was put on the medevac waiting list and told to go back to my room and rest until I was called to fly.

I went back to my room, cried a lot, read up on ectopic pregnancy, and asked myself a lot of questions. How will I explain this to my unit, to my boss? Will my boss know already? What are the rules on medical confidentiality? Will they send me home? Will I be discharged from the Army? What if I have an ectopic pregnancy? Should I tell my family? When will I be able to eat again? When will this pain go away? So many questions as I lay in my room, sometimes in bed, sometimes on the floor under my bed as the rockets kept coming throughout the day and night. Get some rest? Ha. No rest for me….

TBC.

Letrozole all gone – waiting for the Ultrasound CD11

I took my last two Letrozole tablets today.  I haven’t had tiredness today like I had last week, but I do have some abdominal pains so I am sat here with a hot water bottle.  Maybe its a psychological thing, but I think the hot water bottle helps.  I don’t really know if it is my Irritable Bowel Syndrome or a side effect of the Letrozole that is causing it.  Either way, it sucks and wish it would go away.

The abdominal pains started today after lunch, just as I was about to lead a workshop for the afternoon.  I thought about all the possible excuses I could come up with as people arrived.  I looked around the room filled with men all over the age of forty five I decided that I would only end up embarrassing one of them with the truth.  So I stuck it out.  But as soon as I got into the workshop I forgot about the pain.  It was only when I stopped thinking and took a breather for a minute that I realised the pain was still there.

I’ll start my ovulation predictor tests tomorrow, a couple of days sooner than when the nurse suggested.  But I have paranoia that I will have a short cycle this month and miss out on IUI!  I’m not sure the nurse was aware that I sometimes have short cycles of 22 days.  It was only after I got home and read the information pack I thought perhaps I should start the tests a bit sooner.  Yey! Holding my pee in the mornings to pee in a cup time.  Trying to do it in the dark can be fun when I don’t want to wake Chris up too early.

Chris took this photo yesterday - It says so much more about him than a blog post possibly could

Chris took this photo yesterday – It says so much more about him than a blog post possibly could

I asked Chris to guest blog for me this week.  He wants to, he is just not sure what to write.  He is a good writer.  He has a published book already and has been writing a novel in his spare time over the last few years, so he knows how to write well.  Unlike me!  He has some ideas what to write about, but is nervous sharing his thoughts.  I said he should read some of the blogs from other men, perhaps it will help him see from a different perspective how blogging can be a bit of therapy for the mind.  I hope he does write something, but I am not going to pressure him or make him feel bad.  Blogging is not everyone’s cup of tea and I am certainly still learning – so far it tastes pretty good and I can see it fitting into my daily routine.  Let’s see how addictive it can get 🙂