Having the small-but-really-honestly-very-treatable-don't-worry tumour in my brain was the immediate cause of my non-pregnant life. But there had been something else getting in the way for the past few years:
A year ago today, I was going to stay with my aunt and sister. The anniversary of my dad’s death was approaching and we wanted to get together.
I remember packing my tiny bottle of tiny pills in my suitcase.
In November, I had sex with Jim. My period was due the next week, so I figured I had already ovulated and we had about zero chance of conceiving. Then my period was late. I can’t be pregnant, I said, I calculated this and I ovulated about two weeks ago.
Why don’t you do a pregnancy test? Jim suggested, pragmatic as ever.
I did a pregnancy test. It was negative. My period showed up two weeks later.
We kept having sex, and my period kept being late, and I kept getting excited and doing pregnancy tests and they kept coming out negative and I kept getting disappointed, and my period kept showing up late, and it was all a bit not really going to plan.
In January, I went to see my GP.