DH and I are really looking forward to Monday when we go in for our first visit to the IVF clinic. I’ve not seen him this excited since we got married (he's ADHD and every day is full-on excitement).

AF was 2 weeks late and DH was getting a bit hopeful that a “miracle” had happened and that we were pregnant, even though he had the snip over 3 years ago.

He actually looked heartbroken when I told him last nite that AF had come for a visit.

I’m almost thinking that any unsuccessful attempts are going to affect him more than they will me, I’m going to try to be of the philosophy that with every embryo that didn’t take, that it is one that wasn’t supposed to be our child, and that my mother has one (or two) especially marked out for us. I had this philosophy when I miscarried 10 years ago (not that Mum was picking one out - she was still alive then, but that the pregnancy wasn't meant to be).

I also have this philosophy when it comes to death, that it was their time to go, that they had done what they needed to do, learnt what they needed to learn and taught those that needed to learn lessons from them. Basically that is the only thing that has got me through the loss of my father, grandmother and mother (in that order).

Oh well, Monday at 1.30pm we sit down with the consultant at the clinic and discuss our treatment, we should also be booking in when DH has his extraction.

S