Negative

I'm sure you will realise that, had I hit the jackpot, I would have posted straight away.  Unfortunately, it took me a few days to pick myself up off the floor so I could post. I waited, like a real patient person, until Day 14 and tested.  A BFN, that's what.  I cried, of course, and then I got myself dressed and out.  In anticipation I packed Friday to Monday full of activities and friends, as well as taking the day off on test day.  Thank God.  I was partly tricked by the progesterone again, but more cautious this time so I'd say less shocked at the result.  The temperature rise got to me in this round.  It was quite distinct and I began to be so convinced. Feel a bit of a fool, to be honest.

I did email the clinic straight away on Friday to ask if there was really any point trying one last time.  The doctors think that I can get pregnant, but it will take time because of my age and once every 2 months is probably not cutting it.  They're hopeful due to how regularly and well I ovulate and also how I respond to the Clomid.  I'm sure they're right, but the question is can I put my life on hold any further, living on sod all?  If I'm going to do that surely I'd be better throwing my money at donor eggs. Everyone around me seems to think so. I feel really old.  I may not be old in actual years, but I'm clearly Medusa in the fertility stakes.

I've already decided, I think,  that I will try to scrape enough together to do a final round in Copenhagen, as I said I would, and then it's saving for the donor package in Cyprus at Dogus Clinic.  It will take me four months to save half the money and, weirdly, I am going to ask my father to lend me the rest so I don't have to wait 8 months.  I can pay him back from the month I go.   Dogus Clinic guarantee you ten fresh eggs and transfer 3 embryos rather than two, freezing the rest.  So if it doesn't work the first time, you can try the rest of your frozen eggs twice more for very little financial outlay.  It's got to be better than one pop only.

So, it looks like I may devote almost another whole year to getting pregnant as my career slides into the mire.  Then there will be an end to it, one way or another.  There has to be a cut off point, as I keep saying.  And I am beginning to dream, nay hallucinate, of what it would be like to afford new clothes, a meal out or a trip away that isn't to Copenhagen. Or what it would be like to think about something else.  My choice though and at least no one, least of all me, can say I didn't do my best to achieve it.  If it doesn't work at all, I can slug champagne on a Mediterranean beach terrace and know I tried. Now I'm off to have a bloody glass of wine.