I’m really regular.  I know my cycle like the days of the week.  Wednesday comes after Tuesday and Sunday is at the end of the week.  And I ovulate on the 24th and there’s a week of irritation and all the other bleeding stuff is right.  on. schedule.  Give or take a day.  Except the time I used the morning after pill and that made my period come a whole 2 weeks early, which was a totally welcome surprise, given that I was so not ready to have a baby.

Last night, over a glass of wine, Seth and I were doing our disgustingly loving daily check in, in our cozy booth at Dusty’s when Seth said, “Hey, it’s the 10th, no period?”  And I replied, “No.  No sign.”

“So, you’re pregnant?”

And I replied that I was 90% sure I wasn’t pregnant, 10% unsure with a side of sort of hopeful that I had accidentally mistaken my normal PMS for pre-pregnancy irritation and I was unintentionally knocked up.  And he hugged me and said all the perfect things about the possibility that I might be pregnant and we walked home and I started my period.

Just. like. clockwork.

So, to be clear, we aren’t trying to have a baby.  But we aren’t trying not to.  And this was the first month in my entire life that I was actually a little sad to get my period right on schedule.  But I have to say, when Seth said I’m the most regular woman he’s ever been with (and then he clarified by saying,”You know, ‘period-wise’ because you aren’t ‘regular…’”), I got a little proud.  Which is crazy, because who gets proud about their period being regular, like I somehow have control over it?  I do, that’s who.