Now that my husband is home, I'm starting to think about the whole infertility/cycling/baby thing again. Not that I didn't think about it while he was gone, but it was rather pointless, as one can't have sex/IUI/IVF without him around. (Apparently this post is going to be rather heavy on the slash marks. It's just that kind of a day.)
So, I had anticipated that I would start my period about a week after he got home, having ovulated two weeks ago, which would allow us to try Clomid, have brilliant success, and have a bouncing baby girl next November, perfect for timing our move and not being too close to Christmas.
Naturally, this plan has completely gone to shit. My newfound talent for ovulating seems to have dried up, as it hasn't happened yet, and thus I'm not on the rag, and thus there has been no Clomid-eating/screwing/birthing-not-too-near-Christmas. (Well, okay, there has been screwing, but just for fun, not for conception.) Which is really pissing me the fuck off.
The King absolutely insists that any and all children we have not have birthdays in late December, which means if I don't start a new cycle soon, we'll have to wait another month at least to put the theoretical child's birthday past Christmas and into January. Grr.
Of course, it's pretty much pointless of me to obsess about this, because the Clomid won't work and I won't get pregnant anyway, but it would be a nice change to be able to obsess about an actual possibly-baby-producing two week wait for the first time ever, instead of obsessing about the fact that my period continues to insist on not appearing.