At my work Christmas party, on the day it finally sank in that my final round of Clomid had failed, a colleague of mine confided in me: she had been trying for a baby for three months. Nothing was working. She’d started tracking her ovulation.
‘Diddums,’ I thought. Then I told her my story. We both cried. We both got extremely drunk.
Today I found out, through another colleague, that she is pregnant. It’s the first pregnancy announcement since I received my diagnosis.
I wish, more than anything, that I could be happy for her.