Yesterday marked three years of wedded bliss. Also, not entirely co-incidentally, it heralded three years of failing to get pregnant. (Little tip to anyone who found this site through googling "Special things to do on your wedding day," don't decide to lose the birth control on the same day you lose your maiden name - it slightly taints the whole anniversary celebration thing).
Anyway, three years in and we've made a pact. We give it two more years bringing the total to five and call it a day.
No, not our marriage. That whole trying for a baby thing.
That might sound a bit drastic, but hear me out.
One of the problems with trying to get pregnant without a specific 'problem' is that other than actually getting pregnant or hitting the menopause there is no moment when you can categorically, absolutely, unequivocally say the trying is over and move on.
For some people maybe this is a good thing, there is always hope. For me it isn't.
I keenly remember hearing a radio interview with a woman who used the phrase "I wasted my thirties trying to have a baby." This has haunted me. I don't want to live like that. I am in my prime. Other than the lack of child my life is pretty much text-book perfect. I should enjoy it.
Early next year we are likely to run out of NHS options. So we'll have just shy of two years to throw money, time and energy at the problems.
We'll do everything we can to have a baby.
But if nothing happens, after two years we stop. We'll move on (probably literally - somewhere where we don't have to worry about schools or being responsible grown-ups).
I know I'll only be thirty five and "lots of people have kids in their forties", but, if I haven't managed to get pregnant by then we can assume that age isn't the problem.
And yes, lots of people try far longer than five years and go on to conceive. I know, I know. But I also need to know that this isn't going to blight my life from now to menopause. I need to know there is a time when I can be me and not wee on sticks every morning, not count days between period and ovulation, ovulation and period, not obsess.
Obviously this comes with numerous caveats - not least it is a woman's prerogative to change her mind.
For some people the thought might seem depressing but to be honest it feels like a relief.
I hope I don't need it, but having an end in sight puts me, not my hormones, back in control.