You wouldn't necessarily expect an infertile, such as myself, to be delighted when her period arrives. But when your cycle has notched up an impressive 59 days quite frankly it is just a relief to get a sign that you aren't dead from the waist down (no sex gags Liz, bite your tongue).
I was starting to get worried, as it had been a week since my last Provera pill. Last time I took Provera it didn't work and I was put on birth control for six months. And nobody wants that (and when I say nobody, I specifically mean *I* don't want that).
But with its trade mark punch-in-the-guts entry, combined with a dose of inexplicable melancholy my period has arrived. I have reset the P tracker and am on course for a nice clear womb for next week's hysteroscopy.
In other news I am expecting a kick-back from the German and Ghanaian an team for my sterling work in ensuring that neither England or US progressed any further in the World Cup. Thank fuck this blog is anonymous or I'd be unable to leave the house without protection.