…because I’ve had nothing to say really.
As I mentioned in my last post, I’ve spent the last month at hen parties, weddings, birthday parties and trips away utterly unencumbered by thoughts of pregnancy. OK, that’s a total lie, I’m still not drinking so almost every time I’ve gone out it’s been on my mind in some way or other, but actually, you know what, it’s been fine. Suspiciously fine.
If you recall, last time I felt this fine, I did something totally fucking dumbass and realised I wasn’t as fine as I thought I was. (And big thanks to Continue reading
I just realised, in the same way that I’ve realised in real life, that up until this point I’ve been fine jabbering away about things, but now shit just got real. (I said that ironically, OK? In a pseudo-American accent. Don’t think I’m one of those people who say “shit just got real” in a deadpan way. I’m not.)
Anyway, what I mean by that is that this is all so timed, in that if you ovulate on this day, then your eggs and the sperm are defrosted Continue reading
I just realised you probably thought that this post was a reference to the fact that, as I’ve mentioned a few times before, this whole trying-to-get-preg-on-my-own type thing wasn’t exactly Plan A. Or maybe to the fact that what I’m doing is, as I’ve mentioned before, not exactly the norm within my group of predominantly hetero, predominantly married-with-children friends. But it’s not (well, it kind of is, because everything I write on this blog is basically about the same thing.) No, this is something I wanted to write before I’m actually mired in the depths of the treatment. As a marker, maybe, as a reminder of why I’m doing this. So here goes… Continue reading