You know. Easter.
Let me help you out here. I'm guessing there were chocolate eggs. You probably saw quite a lot of fluffy chicks around. I know what'll jog your memory, your aunt sent you a cross stitch card featuring a bouncing lamb and daffodils. Oh! And you had The Friday and Monday off work (probably).
Yes, that Easter.
To be fair it was a little while ago.
Now what about the 18 of March, the Tuesday before Easter? It was my mate E's birthday I sent her a card.
I remember it pretty well, not cause of the birthday, but I had a doctors appointment that day. my first specialist appointment to talk about why the hell I wasn't pregnant. I came along clutching my list of my cycle dates.
I had been regular for 5 months. I know five months!!! (Believe me the exclamation marks are entirely necessary). For the first time in my life, notwithstanding when I was on the pill which was the majority of my adult life, I was regular.
The doctor told me not to worry come back in a few months if nothing had happened and the husband and I trotted off happy, if not a little shamefaced, that we'd got into such a flap about everything when clearly there was nothing wrong. We just needed a little more time.
And on that very day I had one of those smiley faces on the mega expensive digital ovulation predictor kits. I had ovulated. We, you know, did the deed.
That was six months ago tomorrow.
That was a couple of months before I started this blog.
That was the last time I got a positive ovulation test.
That was a few days before I found out my sister was pregnant. I went round tonight, she is enormous (in the right places). She's due in 2 months.
That was a week (or so) before I found out one of my best mates was pregnant, she is booked in for a cesarean at the end of next month.
I have done nothing since, two periods, one after that ovulation, one brought on by drugs (medical, not fun ones).
Waiting, waiting, waiting.