When I switched the cooker on last night, there was a loud bang from inside the oven... and then nothing. The hob and the grill still appear to be working, but now the oven will not heat up.
And so we decided to go out for dinner. As we settled into our seats in our local Italian restaurant and ordered a bottle of Chianti, we suddenly felt carefree and childfree, rather than gloomily childless.
But, over the course of the meal, our conversation inevitably turned to the topic of our infertility - in particular, what we might do should the FET be unsuccessful. I said that I thought that there was still an outside chance that we might conceive spontaneously; we managed it once before, after all. "I think we're about as likely to spontaneously combust," retorted Mr H.
As he himself is fond of telling me, one of the main reasons I married my husband is for his excellent sense of humour!
4 comments:
DH is still on the side of hope and that this might happen on our own, even though we've never had two lines. I think I gave up on that idea six months ago, so I feel like I take every cycle better because I'm not living in hope, then dying in despair.
It stinks for your oven to be on the fritz, but awesome that you had "a nice Chianti."
I hope you enjoyed your dinner. your dh sounds quite funny.
we have taken the reverse roles here -- my hub thinks maybe it could happen for us, even though it seems next to impossible. I might have to steal your dh's line... I'll credit him, so thanks in advance.
Good man! I'd rather have a funny quip like that than the pained denial my poor guy usually expresses.
I also envy you the Chianti. Sigh.
I believe I've mentioned this before: I'm in love with your husband.
Sounds like a nice "grownup" night, at least for awhile.
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