The best laid plans...

Between my consultation and my period I was stressing out watching the cost of easyjet flights go up and up.  For the last 6 months my digital ovulation tests had shown that, no matter what, I ovulated on Day 10 of my cycle.  As my cycle was between 24-27 days each month, I thought this would be a piece of cake. However,  watching the pennies meant I couldn't risk buying flights only to ovulate on a later or earlier date or worse, not ovulate at all.  Equally my budget wasn't going to stretch to stupidly priced last minute flights.  What to do?  I gambled.  The night before I was expecting to ovulate, I booked a flight and a night's accommodation ( remarkably good, chic and cheap - Wakeup Copenhagen at £60 a night). I'd already booked the time off work. I figured I'd give myself a two day chance and also a proper chance to find everything and see a bit of Copenhagen.  However, the voice of doom began to whisper at 6am the next day - no ovulation and a flight to catch.  Once I arrived I tried again, with two pee sticks for good measure.  Nothing.  I calculated I still had that night and the next morning before the game was up and I'd wasted my money on flights.  I could feel the usual crampy tugs and knew I was ovulating, but the stick said no.  I wandered round a really rather beautiful city, took in an exhibition at the Museum, ate great food, but went to bed disappointed.  This was not looking good.  The next morning at 6am my body was not cooperating, so I had a good cry and hit the sack for a couple of more hours, trying my best to think of it as a 'learning curve'.  Mmm.  Like I needed more of those.  Two hours later, I half heartedly tried again and there it was, a little smiley face in the window.  Cue sobs of relief.  Appointment booked, off I trotted to sight-see, this time with a smile on my face. 

At 2pm, Danish time, I arrived at the clinic fluttering with nerves.  The clinic is a stone's throw from the city centre metro station Kongens Nytorv, a 35K and 15 minute ride from the airport.  A lovely midwife ushered me into a swish room and we sat and had a chat.  I poured out my tale of stress and she smiled knowingly.  Apparently this is all too common and some women don't ovulate at all until they're back home after wasting flights, especially the first time.  So I was lucky.  The learning curve?  Don't bloody book your flights until the smiley face appears.  You then have 24-36 hours. 

The whole process took 15 minutes, plus a 30 minute chill-out lie down afterwards.  It didn't hurt, was remarkably easy and very well explained.  She also told me everything 'looked good', which was so nice to hear after constant sharp intakes of breathe about my age over here.  All I have to do now is wait 14 days and I can test.  Flying back I felt a bit crampy, but this is perfectly normal.  As I flew I considered what I'd just done.  It has to be the weirdest thing I will ever do, but I don't regret it for a minute.  I'm hopeful, excited and restrained all at the same time.  I have been pregnant before, but now for me the issue is whether or not my endometrium - after a second trimester miscarriage and an abdominal myomectomy to remove large fibroids -  is thick enough to welcome any fortunate fertilised egg.  We will see.

The next time I blog, we'll all know..