There’s a big dichotomy in my personality, on the one hand I’m a trained scientist, a thorough sceptic and completely anally retentive. On the other hand I kind of want to be a hippy. I admire the people who get through the whole nine months without asking what flavour their baby is (I never managed it). I admire the people who take a laid back “let’s see what happens” approach. The problem with knowledge is that once I learn something, I can’t unlearn it, I can forget huge chunks of it, but a nugget of it will remain.
I’ve talked before about how easily I’ve fallen pregnant in the past, but I need to be honest here, when we last decided that we were going to have a baby I got organised. I signed up for Fertility Friend membership, I ordered a bunch of ovulation tests from eBay and I picked up a fertility thermometer. There was a solid month where not a single day passed that I didn’t pee on something.
Last summer we started talking about having another baby and in anticipation of my fertility coming back I did all of the above again and drove myself completely nuts for 3 months before I gave up. I think I permanently damaged my eyesight in that time too squinting at tests trying to will a second line into existence.
I have some romantic notions about how I want to do it this time. I want my crunchy granola side to reign, and crunchy granola is not at home to graphs and statistics. I have idle fantasies about just relaxing, about not testing from about 7 DPO onwards, about having my husband there when I take the test and letting him tell me the result, and finally about staying resolutely team yellow.
Yet I found myself this morning waking up and sticking a BBT thermometer in my mouth AND then resurrecting my old Fertility Friend account (albeit the free version) to record the verdict.
I can’t fight the annotating lab coat wearing me.