When I woke up in the morning, I took my temperature and realised that it had dipped to 36.6 (look at the graph from the smart app "Fertility Friend"), I felt disappointment creeping into my otherwise, well rested body. Dipping around Day 30 always means an impending period. Yesterday night, by 10pm, my body shut down and I slumped my body on my bed. I realised that it is not the number of hours that matters but the time that you sleep. If I sleep at 12 and wake up at 8, it is not as refreshing as sleeping at 10 and waking up at 6. I brushed my teeth and drank water. I sat down on the sofa, still thumping the disappointment down. "Hey, 36.6 is not that bad. Don't think so much," I consoled myself. I switched on the fan and the cold wind blew. I took my phone and checked Facebook as if it was my morning devotional material. "Ah another friend is expecting and is hinting online," I whispered in my head. I didn't bother to wri
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