I obviously don’t want my old life back. I don’t want to give up trying to get something I really want. Hell, I’ll scale mountains if I have to, swim seas if I need to, commit crimes (excluding anything that causes harm, offence or nicking other people’s kids) if it brings me closer to getting the baby I so desire.

And today’s mountain cost me fifty quid in cab fares, two hours out of work and a little of slice of reputation.

How? Well it all began on Monday morning when I detected my LH surge. I had always assumed, from reading the leaflet in the ovulation test packet, that this meant my monthly egg would be on its way out for a bit of sun in the next 24 hours. Factoring in the 24 hour life of an egg I therefore assumed that our fertile window would be well and truly closed by Wednesday morning.

Cut to, this morning – Thursday. I was browsing around Top Shop, trying to delay the moment I set foot in the office, when I experienced some abdominal cramping that felt suspiciously like ovulation pain. I brushed it off, who ever heard of ovulation occurring three whole days after an LH surge? Unless of course, I was hormonally imbalanced, but I couldn’t really concentrate on that and a pair of lace leggings at the same time. I ignored the cramps and went about choosing some cheap, colourful and frilly Summer tops to keep me going through the cold winter months.

When I arrived at the office, the cramping still hadn’t abated. Then things got curiouser and curiouser when I visited the ladies and found myself gazing down at rather a lot of cervical mucus. How could I ignore what my body was telling me? I was clearly in the market for some fertilisation and I needed to get home! But I’d only just arrived at work and had a day packed with meetings…
I ummed and arrhed, paced a bit, then e-mailed my work-at -home-husband for his thoughts. Maybe we could meet half way, say, Kings Cross, and hire a hotel room for half an hour? Scrap that, I couldn’t look anyone in the face and ask for a hotel room in Kings Cross for half an hour, without them thinking I was going to main-line heroine or service a client with my trusty rucksack of bondage gear. And anyway, if you’re going to stay in a hotel for any length of time you really need time to appreciate the free biscuits, shower gel, mini kettles and range of films on offer.

No, I needed to get home and quick. I told my assistant to call off all my meetings (including one that started in half an hour) citing medical issues, she could make something up, I just needed to get home quickly, I’d call her later…

I was at home for all of twenty minutes, including the getting undressed and dressed again, calling and waiting for a cab back to the office.

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