Cooking the books of infertility

Coping with infertility involves being continuously slapped in the face by reality, which is why it is so great to suspend real life for one reassuring, self-deluded moment.  Someone clever once described the body as the perfect accountant, what goes in comes out and nothing goes unnoticed.  If the body is the perfect accountant then my husband and I are, well, the exact opposite.

In moments of bounding optimism, we egg each other on to cook the books of infertility, and it goes something like this:

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