Hippychick, thank you for the clarification.
Goth, I'm sorry your period turned up 
Italian, your excitement is palpable! I wish you much happiness.
Crunchies, Hopeful is spot on about information overload being stressful - and that sex is the answer! For me, personally, the stress I feel each month is entirely self-inflicted. By this, I mean that temping & charting on fertilityfriend; using this thread to learn and share; putting the dream of having a baby at the very top of my list of priorities; almost weeping over babies in Tesco; dreading my birthday on the 30th; all these things are punishing me and actually spoiling my day-to-day life - I have no interest in anything else going on around me. Life is going on for everyone else around me whereas I feel permanently stuck in fortnightly segments of 'awaiting ovulation' and 'the two-week wait'.
The reason I have ended up like this is that my MMC in March was painful and unexpected (despite the statistics for miscarriage in over-40s I refused to consider myself as 'one of them'). I am now a statistic. I was told I would fall pregnant easily after the miscarriage. I haven't. Not even a sniff. This is despite having plentiful, well-timed sex. Also, the due date for my lost baby is coming up and I'm dreading it - I so wanted to be pregnant again by then. I can't believe I am actually following the pregnancy thread I used to belong to even though I ache with envy and misery reading about their accelerating excitement. Lucky, lucky ladies. I'm insane for doing this, right?
In an earlier post on here the other day I said I was convinced the universe holds great things for those of us who yearn to feel 'complete', but yesterday I found that the universes also conspires against us. Listen to this: my DP contacted an 'old acquaintance' yesterday for a supply of cheap Viagra (it costs £30 for four from the doctor). He travelled a long way to meet him and was told to wait on the street corner whilst he went into a dodgy-looking house with DPs (substantial enough amount of) money. DP waited 40 minutes and knocked on the door. Nobody answered. Ever. They had scarpered out the back with my poor DPs cash. Now, we are not well-off, but aside from the financial disaster it absolutely floored my DP in terms of embarrassment at his naivety and 'foolishness'. He came all the way home (public transport - we don't own a car) and all I could do was pat his head and make him a 
. Actually, I was far more sympathetic than this but you get my drift. DPs pride was wounded and I could tell that it had thrown up the whole issue of his 'inadequacy' once again ie. needing help with his erectile dysfunction.
Now here's the point [sighs of relief all round]: DPs 'issues' were entirely not an issue and quite rare until recently, when getting pregnant has become more and more an obsession as I believe less and less that it is going to happen. Learning to become un-obsessed is counter-productive: I can't unlearn the statistics surrounding fertility for the over-forties.
Oh dear. I didn't mean for this post to end up being negative. I was trying to echo hopeful's sentiments about stress.
It should help the fact that DPs ex (the mother of his son) got pregnant with Oliver at 45. However, the way she speaks (which is pretty unintelligible as she is Spanish & her rapid, shrieking Spanglish is like nails down a chalkboard) is not helpful: "Ohhhhhhhh!! Issa issy-pissy haffing babby when fotty-wan! Eye fotty-fife and smocking all-a the days when eye wassa pregnant weeth Ollyfair! Smocking fotty ciggies a day!! Ohhhhh, YES! And me and [DPs name] haff sex very not many times!! Issy-pissy eye thinks!"