You know, the plan, to get the third clomid cycle underway, and so forth, involving provera, what with own body flailing about in hormonal limbo? Yes. Well, no, I haven’t taken the provera yet. And why have I not done this? Well, everytime I leap up to retrieve the little white box from the top of the fridge, Satsuma also leaps up and grabs my wrist, crying: ‘No no no, I can do this, I know I can do this. Look! EWCM! Extremely low temperatures! Migraine! I’m ovulating any minute now, I promise!’ And I, like the tomfool banana-brain I am, give her the benefit of the doubt. Hey, I even pee on an OPK (always, astoundingly, amazingly, negative) to humour her. And then I have to wait three days to see if she means it or the OPKs change their little white minds, and nada, obviously, and I leap up again shouting ‘That’s really it! I am totally taking the provera RIGHT NOW!’, rinse, repeat.
So, following the two hottest nights of the year, my BBT has managed to drop to 35.72 C. Seriously. It was pretty much that in the bedroom. An I were not typing this at you now, I’d assume I was a corpse cooling to room temperature.
And then, this morning, my temperature was considerably higher than it has been for ten days. So, either I ovulated (ah hah hah hah hah), or I am coming down with something (hah. And, again, HAH), or the heat of the weather has finally penetrated my carefully constructed insulating blanket of lard and will now take another ten days to percolate back out again. I begin to see why the NHS ACU will have no truck at all with fertility charting.
So we’re waiting for another three days. And THEN we’ll take the provera. And I will not be fooled