About 12/14 months ago we decided to actively start trying in earnest to get pregnant. Mum got the mobile apps to know when her fertile window was – we quite literally stopped recognizing the Roman Calendar widely accepted all around the world and reverted to the ‘fertile calendar’. The one where days of the month mean nothing, weekdays and weekends are irrelevant but days 10-18 of the fertile calendar are ferociously blocked out and under protection from all outside influences for baby making. To help in this process I was also on supplements which are basically anabolic steroids to sperm while Mum was taking a cocktail of pharmaceutically recognised supplementation as well as some Eastern medicine concoction that I’m pretty sure contained bark dust, pickled deer penis, unicorn horn shavings and dragons’ breath.

Me: ‘I need to pay Du by the 17th… What’s the date today Susie?’

Mum: ‘Day 9!’

Me: ‘Cheers. But what’s the other date?’

This went on for some time. And it got seriously stressful… like pressure was mounting. I would start to have internal panic attacks as day 10 was approaching. How did I know day 10 was approaching?Because I was told, that’s how. Without going into too much detail there was frustration under the pressure of making sure I finished. There was a lot of lube being thrown around as foreplay was a bit too much under these pressured conditions. ‘Foreplay?’ Fuck that, just get in to it boy. There was sweat.There was blood. Holy shit… there were even high 5’s when we’d strung a few consecutive days together in the fertile period. A far cry from what both your Mum and I were expecting this moment to be.

A moment of sanity came when we agreed to just chill the fuck out! We both went off our respective supplement regimes and just enjoyed being in each other’s company whilst paying more attention to the Roman Calendar and less on the other, although there was one eye firmly on the fertility schedule for certain.

The result was we started to enjoy the process (the sex!) more and the last few months have been great. Mum changed doctors and we’re far more comfortable with her than the last one. Jesus Christ, I could only understand every third bloody word from the last one.

Not so long ago Mum made an unscheduled visit.