Close your eyes and think of England

I seem to ovulate at the most inappropriate times. Last month, it was during the visit of my husband's best friend. During the nights Best Friend was there, we'd all be sitting on the couch, watching some awful action movie in HD, and I'd feign sleepiness and say, "I'm off to bed." About twenty minutes later my husband would follow. We'd turn on the air purifier to its loudest setting, and do the deed, trying to forget we were very much not alone in the house.

Well, it was even worse this time around. My mother-in-law was in town for Passover. My bodily fluids led me to believe I was about to ovulate, as did one of those horrible ovulation predictor kits. We had no choice. Once MIL decided it was time to hit the hay, we followed suit. Again, we turned the trusty air purifier to its loudest setting. I gave my husband the same sage advice Victorian women would give their daughters before their wedding nights: "Close your eyes and think of England."

The next morning, I saw that my temperature had risen. I don't know if that means I ovulated, or if there's another reason my body temp is up. I do know that my husband may have to fly to Norfolk, Virginia this weekend for work, and it's a $700 round trip so I can't accompany him. Looks like we may have another month of non-success. I can't look at it as failure, because of the adoption option. I want to be a mother, whether or not that includes a pregnancy.