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A Pattern Emerges

There must be a name for this.

The time when two really extraordinary forces come together and create a clusterfuck of stress and emotions. Those forces known as PMS and the two week wait.

It’s akin to the bridezilla, but scarier because you’ve come between momma bear and her baby, and momma bear hasn’t had her daily espresso shot for two weeks because she’s been trying to conceive.

I just realized something. 8 DPO is the climax of this clusterfucking. Darling Wife and I discussed that I should preemptively take this day off work as a “mental health day” in future cycles, because today, I had strong urges to tell the bright teenagers that I teach to fuck off.

This is shit I could get fired for.

Perhaps it’s safer for everyone if I plan ahead.

Still waiting for a missed period, but I’m not holding my breath. I really don’t feel pregnant.

Unless of course, my mood right now is a sneak peak of what the next 8 months might look like.

God help us all.

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