This morning’s Tesco peestick also said no. It continued saying no even when H also glared at it, and then we left it on the window-sill for 20 minutes, and then glared at it again. Nope.
So I went to work. With tampons, sanitary towels, pain-killers etc. all stuffed into my handbag. Which was wise, as I started spotting and feeling crampy by lunch-time.
Full-on bleedathon tomorrow, then.
I do feel I’ve rather let the side down by not being at all pregnant after all, what with the excitement last night. Sorry.
[Pause, while I run outside, shake my fists at the sky, and scream every single swear-word I know in English, French, German, Spanish, Italian and Yiddish.]
You know, I didn’t actually feel pregnant, as such. Previous times I have been, however briefly, knocked up, I did sort of know I was pregnant. Not in a ‘this symptom, I put my finger on it’ way. More in a ‘mystic interconnectedness with my uterus yada yada’ way. Anyway, whatever it is, I didn’t feel it.
However, I do (did! Still do!) feel very much startled by the fact my period is only just heralding its imminence 14 dpo. This is, ladies and gentlemen (any gentlemen? Yes? Well done you), a normal luteal phase. A healthy one. A good strong ovulation with a probably-not-crapped-up egg.
So, if I can actually ovulate healthily (wheeeeee!) and H and I are having VAST quantities of well-timed sex (and we are) and H’s semen analyses have been normal and good, well, then. I should be able to get pregnant, unless the One-and-Only Fallopian Tube is blocked, or stuck fast and unable to reach my ovary, or Satsuma is laminated with scar tissue, or other endo/fibroidy/adenomysosis-related horrors. Roll on surgery. I have an initial weigh-and-check-list appointment next week, with surgery to follow anything between a month and three months afterwards. And then we wait.
I’m allowed to keep trying to get pregnant while I wait for surgery. I’m just utterly banned from trying the month I do have surgery, obviously. So I can vary the fretful pacing with *cough* taking my mind of things *cough*.
Meanwhile, I am a tad ouchy, so I am off to get shit-faced on painkillers and watch the Great British Bake-Off. Thanks for all the support, Gentle Readers. I’m sorry it was all a bit of a non-event.