To all men who read here: warning, there is going to be period talk and if you don't want to read it, you may want to go elsewhere for a while.
Since my weird health mystery started last February/March, my periods have been very irregular; mostly short. So short that some cycles were 19 days long. And take it from me, that really sucks. That isn't even three weeks between the start of one period and the start of the next. And so, I started tracking the length of each cycle just so I could see if there was any consistency.
There wasn't. Some cycles were 26 days, most were around 22 or 21 days. Sometimes I ovulated and sometimes I didn't. This was weird for me because I was always a consistent ovulator. A few pap tests and a pelvic ultrasound or two only resulted in doctors scratching their heads and shrugging their shoulders. "I dunno. People have irregular periods, you know." Very helpful.
And then we moved to Waterloo and I don't know if there is something in the water but all of a sudden I had two cycles that were 27 days long. Bliss! And a big money savings on tampons.
I figured things had changed, I was back to "normal" or as normal as I can be with still no diagnosis and nothing on the horizon that would lead me to believe I'll be getting one anytime soon.
And then it was Day 30 and I told John that it was Day 30.
And then I peed on a stick.
Surprise! Yup, we're having another baby. We're going to be parents of THREE children. THREE!
Yes, we're excited. But, wow, we're still getting used to the idea two weeks later (almost), revelling in the joy of it but also the whoa-ness of it and all the stuff we have to do/consider/think about when we are away from home, our midwives, our normal stomping grounds.