The glory days
My first three months of ttcing 'properly' were filled with a joyful glee. I'd wee on my little stick every morning, wait for the results, drink my coffee and announce to my husband what was going on. We'd try once in the morning and time it over the next few days, surrounded in a bubble of excitement and hope. I'd shower my nieces and nephews with affection when I'd see them and coo at strangers babies. I'd immediately get tips from my pregnant Mum friends and listen delighted. If it didn't work, oh well it never does this quickly for anyone, there's always next month. Then we'd maybe catch a late night show on TV or go out to our fave spot for dinner. I vowed never to be one of those people who were envious of pregnant people or Mums, they're all miracles and my time would come. Six months in, I'm yelling at my husband "Come on it says it's a peak day we need to do it now or it won't happen I can't do that again. My ...