These have been the strangest couple of weeks yet.
The simple fact is, we have had our best chance to conceive this month, and are probably just a few days away from knowing if we have or not.
We've busied ourselves with smaller superficial things, and not allowed ourselves to think about it, but the feeling of being in limbo is greater than ever.
The true side effect of the Clomid reared its ugly head and was very cruel to ET. As irritating as it may be for me to be faced with it, it's a hundred times harder on her to relinquish control over her own emotions.
One of the small mercies of all this was always the ability to last until you have the relative comfort of your own closed doors before succumbing to sadness, but it appears Clomid has the ability to rob you of that too. I, again, remain useless.
That, it must be said, does not equate to just relaxing, anything but.
I could have written a thousand words every day for the past two weeks, but (much like this) none of it would have made any sense, such was the mental to and fro-ing. Every day convinced me this would be the time, while simultaneously mocking me for being so naive.
Will it, or won't it? I really don't know, and in an odd way I don't care, or at least I haven't brought myself to this time, just yet anyway.
We should know by now, that the more you think you know, the less you can be certain of. If that wasn't so, we wouldn't be here.
Either way, regardless of what I think, regardless of the positive temperature pattern, regardless of the drugs, regardless of not wanting to think about it, this week has started and the last days of our biggest chance ever are right in front of us.
Regardless of everything, they will still come, and they still will go.
We are waiting, but we don't know what for.