1. I always wondered what Intimate Feminine Wipes were for. Now I know: there for effecting an emergency mop-down in the loos of Waitrose, while you heartily curse starting your period in the middle of a shopping centre 90 miles from home, an event which has just necessitated the emergency purchase of new knickers and trousers.
2. That despite this being a royal pain in the arse, I am delighted to note that I seem to be operating a 26-day cycle, which – whisper it – is almost normal.
[Goodness, this post is exactly what people fear, isn't it, when they say they don't use social media because it's full of people sharing way too much.]
3. Ovulation sticks are fun, I don’t care what anyone says. I realise I may not always feel this way about them, but I might as well enjoy the novelty while it lasts. There is a ten-second moment of excitement, after you’ve peed and while you’re waiting for the line(s) to appear, when you feel genuine suspense. Have I ovulated? Haven’t I? It’s so exciting.
I am delighted to report that I haven’t ovulated yet. This is quite appropriate, given that I’m only a few days into my cycle. Whether those two lines will ever appear remains to be seen.
4. Semen samples may require near-impossible feats of dexterity in order to be fresh enough to test, but the NHS will still make you wait over a week for the results.
5. It appears that nobody conceives a child without medical help anymore. We are far from alone.
6. Perhaps following on from point 6, people are extraordinarily kind and sympathetic when they find out you’re embarking on fertility treatment. Witness this lovely care package from my friend K, which arrived in the post this morning: