OK. I definitely ovulated on Sunday. Everyone and everything agrees. Even the charting software.
We had quite a lot of really rather well-timed sex this month, as H reacted to my Great Big Public Freak-Out by *ahem* rising to the occasion. Bless him. I should bellow and humiliate him public more often.
Sweetheart? I said I was kidding. You can come back now. Sweetheart?
Anyway. I was discussing budgets with a colleague, and thence how long it’d be until the new Academic year and the new budget, and I thought to myself, ooh, nine months! That means… AUGH! And hope had bitten me on the arse again.
Fuck. I was being all cool and cynical and treating this as a cycle that had to be got out of the way before we could do the next three Clomid goes and try ovulating before my period would be due were I normal. This? This is just a rehearsal. Not actually a cycle. No. Especially what with NO FREAKING CONTACT WITH MISS BUSY-PANTS CONSULTANT WHO IS CLEARLY TOO FREAKING WONDERFUL TO TALK TO HER FREAKING PATIENTS. (*cough* – sorry about that).
Anyway. The cool blase attitude. Scuppered. Not cool about this at all. Will be menstruating over Christmas in a state of abject pissed-offness. And DRINKING.
But I’m still taking the expensive pre-natal vitamins until proven useless.