I'm not pregnant.
I feel compelled to start with that because the usual pattern when someone hasn't blogged for months and pops back is usually to make an announcement.
I have been doing all I can to get pregnant. Well, doing the husband anyway. (I totally love writing things like that because I know that it makes all the folk who read this and know me and him in real life wince.)
I did have a pregnancy "scare" back in November.
Can you see that second line? If you can't you haven't been infertile for nearly long enough.
It was on a test that had been negative and I fished out of the bin, as you do, an hour later just to double check.
I then spent hours googling "faint line one hour after testing" and "is it a second line or evaporation line" on my phone.
The next morning I tested again a couple of hours later, I started my period.
Then in December my period was three days late.
I tested, quietly, on the 22nd on December and in the three minutes I waited for the result I had visions of wrapping up the stick and giving it to the husband to open with his other presents on Christmas morning.
As much as the husband would like another child I suspect a little part of him is quite happy he didn't unwrap a piss-soaked stick along with his chocolate money and tangerine.
Once again no sooner had I used the expensive test my period started. I know there can't really be a correlation between using a pregnancy test and starting ones period but it has happened so often to me over the years I wonder if there isn't some period starting chemical released by the tests.
So here we are in January and despite being more regular than I've ever been in my life my infertility hasn't been magically cured. I'm waiting for this month's period and we prepare for a frozen embryo transplant.
Unless I get pregnant this month of course.
No one can say I'm not a ridiculous optimist.