It was where we had left it

Day two of Medrohoojimaflipsterone, aka provera. Look at me, being all clever and delaying it a few days so I wouldn’t get my period while I spend next weekend with friends. Any bets on how badly that will backfire?

Clomid take 4 is officially over, thank Cripes and his little wingéd minions. Tether, end of, overtaken many weeks ago, I rather think.

*twiddles thumbs*

Meanwhile, H found the ladder to the hayloft, so I am a) sleeping better and b) offering to do laundry and make dinner, so well done him. I confess I burst into furious tears and told him I really resented people thinking it was me who had hidden the damn ladder, and I was trying to be nice and patient, especially with FIL’s surgery, dammit, but look! Miserable FAIL! Coming right atcha! Snivel snivel snarl! H, having, clearly, the oddest ideas about fore-play in the United Kingdom, promptly took me to bed.

I shall not dream of complaining. Even if the unwonted and vigorous exercise did my hip in and made me spend 24 hours limping about clutching at it. SMALL PRICE TO PAY, say I. My hip, by the way, is what I was clutching at. OK? OK. Stop smirking now, it’s undignified.

We are going back to see the Counsellor tomorrow evening. Dear God in Heaven, do you suppose we’ll have to talk about sex?


9 responses to “It was where we had left it

  • Nina

    YAAAAAAAYYYYY, May! Poor, poor H. Sooo mistreated. Ohh, the indignity. Tell him to start working out or just shagging you for stress relief, instead of moping. Kill 2 birds with one stone, per se. Bless his heart. Now, get out the welder and some nuts and bolts and permanently attach the ladder to the loft and tell him not to mess with it and no one gets hurt. Just a suggestion. And you really must stop clutching yourself in public. It just opens up ridicule. (Snicker, snicker)

  • Nina

    Oh, yeah, and the foreplay thing? Maybe he should read a book. Most of the time they have pictures.

  • womb for improvement

    “H found the ladder to the hayloft” – is that a euphemism?

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    I am so relieved to see the back of Clomid #4; you got so lost in that one that I thought you were never ever coming out. I had some FAIL! Clomid cycles, but nothing like #4. I have a feeling that we shall still be discussing the epic-ness of Clomid #4 in many years to come.

    I always, always, get cramp in my right thigh-flank muscle during sex. I’m so used to it these days that I generally power on through, but occasionally it’s bad enough to pause proceedings altogether. And cramp is just a little thing, really. Doing your hip in sounds like a big old painful thing, and yet you carried on like a trooper by the sound of it. God, the sacrifices we have to make. You sound like you were doing a fine impression of a hunchgroin, to use a lovely Pratchetism.

    I’ve never really talked about sex per se with counsellor (although you HAVE just reminded me to ring the bloody GP about my lady-bits dropping like a stone, because she will give me SUCH a look next time if I don’t DO something about it. She’s quite keen on me looking after myself, which is nice of her.) but I expect that she will have some sooth advice to offer. Random and assorted sexual issues cropping up during infertility treatment are pretty par for the course, I think, although I was sufficiently egotistical to never equate sexuality with fertility, which I think is the main emotional bearpit.

    John only ever came to one counselling session; I’m unsure if that was a good or bad thing for us. I feel some issues of mine regarding Fertility = Profitability may have been sorted out better if he had turned up more. But essentially, he just never wanted to be there. I think it’s fabulous that H has A) sorted this counsellor out and B) is going along too. But we all know H is a fabulous kind of chap.

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    In order to quell the indignant Hubby-squeals, I feel I should say that apparently he came to 2 sessions, not one.

    My bad.

  • Betty M

    Glad haylofts accessible again! I always found sex excellent for ridding me of migraines…

  • Nina

    Endorphins are better than aspirin. Hollering only makes a headache/heartsickness/irritation worse. Although the venting can be therapeutic.

  • Xbox4NappyRash

    I was curious about the euphemism myself!

    I fancy taking the wife up the hayloft myself this evening.

    Joking aside, I’m really curious about how the counseling goes.

  • Nina

    Well, May, I’m sorry for causing so much confusion. Yes, everyone, the hayloft is a euphemism, American in origin, apparently. The hayloft is where country/farm girls that are “not so stingy with their favors” take their farm boys (Oh, it just don’t get no better than a good lookin’ farm boy in Wranglers, boots, no shirt…….Honey?) who fancy a little action. The hayloft is an upper floor of the barn used for storing hay for feeding of livestock, for you city folk. Hence the term “roll in the hay.” Gotta go now. Day 12 and all. Won’t be seeing much of me this week. If you need me, I’ll be in the hayloft.

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