And they’re off!


Ovulation. Check. Healthy Rufus sperm. Check. Baby?

I don’t knooooooooooow. And I won’t know for another two weeks.

Every month I tell myself not to get excited, or too hopeful. And every month I do. I can’t help it. An ultrasound this morning confirmed I ovulated sometime in the past 12 hours, and so now it’s all about waiting. I keep trying to imagine my innards and will my egg along: “C’mon, you can do it! I know you’re in there.”

And I know I will spend the next two weeks imagining the multiplication of cells, or wondering about the baby’s star sign (Gemini or Cancer – we don’t have any of those in our family!), or fantasising that the pain in my side is “implantation pain” which can indicate the burrowing of an embryo into the uterus wall.

It’s lunacy.

I will dutifully take walks, read the latest Janet Evanovich, work hard, call friends, cook delicious meals, take yoga classes, read the NYT, the Sydney Morning Herald, the Economist, enjoy sunsets, listen to Manu Chao, Aretha Franklin, Nina Simone, Sia, Amy Winehouse, the White Stripes, Kings of Leon, Arcade Fire, Fleet Foxes, Yo Yo Ma…. whatever.

It will all be clutching at straws because while I am doing all of that, I will be thinking about nothing more than the miracle that could be happening inside me.

So wish me luck. or good vibes, or all the best, and  if you pray, please say a little prayer for me.  

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