Chapter 98: Operation McSciutos
And like a year and some earlier when Abby went on Depo in
the first place, going off of it isn’t just something that happens quick and
easy. It’s not like a light switch that you just flick off.
Granted this time she was only eight days away from her next
shot, so they didn’t have to wait that long to get into the “no birth control”
part of life.
But, well, there’s no easy way to tell when it stops
working. Obviously, there’s a really visible sign that’ll show up eventually,
but, if you’re trying to get pregnant as soon as possible, and if you succeed,
that sign doesn’t show up, and if you don’t want to be taking a pregnancy test
every morning, then you need to have an idea if you even had a target to shoot
at, let alone hit it.
So, even before her last appointment should have been, Tim
and Abby swung into research mode.
And they’re good at research. They’re in bed, each with their own computer, learning the intricacies of ovulation.
He’s reading away, and looks up, “You know, this really
should have been part of the Sex Ed stuff in health class.”
Abby nods. “Yeah. That would have been useful.”
“I mean, who knew the cervix moves around depending on where
you are in your cycle, let alone opens and closes?” Honestly, Tim’s finding all
of this pretty cool. The idea that her body does all of this stuff and they can
pay attention, record data, and use it to make a baby faster and easier makes
his inner science wonk really happy.
“I didn’t. I knew about the temperature thing, but not the
cervix thing.”
They read some more.
“Think they have an ap for this?” Tim asks.
“Huh?” She looks up from her computer screen to him.
“Just seems like a waste of time to have to print out a
chart, take your temperature, write it down, and keep track of it manually.”
He’s googling. “Huh… Yeah. Not seeing anything. I mean, sure you can’t make a
device to check the other stuff, but how hard can it be to make a thermometer
that’ll keep track of your temperatures, and then upload it to your phone on its
own?”
Abby shrugs. “You’d be better at answering that than I’d
be.”
“You know, it really shouldn’t be that hard to make.” He’s
grinning.
“You’ve got a project for this weekend, don’t you?”
“I think I do.”
Three digital thermometers, a selection of chips, the
internals of a few old phones, a soldering iron, some duct tape, and a few
hours on Saturday took care of the having to manually record temperature
information aspect of this. Sure, it wasn’t the prettiest thermometer ever, but
unlike the ones at the drugstore, this one would automatically upload Abby’s information
to the program he wrote anytime it was less than twenty feet away from her
phone.
And that was pretty cool.
And unlike the rest of this, it was part he could actually
help with, so that was cool, too. (Apparently being turned on messes with getting
good baselines for cervical position and vaginal fluids, so though he was more
than willing to help with keeping track of that, his involvement would have
been counter-productive.)
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