[H is sitting on the sodding Ikea chair that keeps falling apart, having mended it With Extreme Prejudice. We are drinking whisky and ginger ale (ooh! This cocktail has a name! It’s called a MacDonald! Fancy!) and watching gloomy Scandinavian crime-dramas. All is well on Planet May&H].
So, where were we. Oh, yes. Cycle thirty-odd, day 11. By-and-large, I ovulate on day 18, 19, or 20 (Satsuma is lazy, but predictable. And now that I’ve written that, she will Commit Shenanigans), so by next weekend H and I need to be on best of terms, and then my period, given Satsuma sticking to schedule and eschewing curve-balls, will be due a day or two after our sixth wedding anniversary.
Best case scenario, take home baby pee-stick present for H. Worst case scenario, miscarriage, timing of which would be soul-destroyingly poor. You can see I’m no longer overly bothered by the idea of not getting pregnant at all. I look back on the May who used to worry about that with the mild, benevolent concern of a distant cousin. Anyway, at the moment, not getting pregnant is quite peaceful. I think I throw up less when I’m not actually dealing with stupid piddling amounts of HCG on top of all the other hormonal crashes menstruating entails. I hope I throw up less.
Not that this is enough to actively discourage me from trying this cycle. I have burnt right through crossed fingers, hope, trust in doctors, bitter hope, angry bitter hope, and am now running on bloody-mindedness alone, but I am still running.
But I am now officially ‘IVF’ weight, so I can only assume my lardiness is no longer so extreme that it is in itself solid embryo-poison (Caveat: I need to lose 35 lbs before I reach ‘normal’ BMI and The Professor is satisfied (35 lbs? Bloody buggering hell)). H bought fancy pre-conception vitamins for the both of us (admittedly, they were on a three-for-two offer). Dinner tonight involved broccoli in almost industrial quantities (and I cooked, for once. Yay for normality). I will be, I think, working shorter days for the next couple of weeks. So, yes, I am feeling very bloody-minded at the moment.
It could also be the daffodils. They’re just coming into flower, and the birds are courting and nest-building in the trees, and some few brave trees are blossoming. It’s so hard not to feel… bloody-minded. Sap rising, or some-such.