If there's one thing that really and truly puts me off having a family, it comes in the form of my older, bitter, grudge-bearing half "sister." After five blissful years without her in our lives, she has suddenly swanned back in out of nowhere, declaring that we are all terrible people and that we can all, quote "drop dead." Um, so, who invited you back into our lives again? Oh that's right, NOBODY!!

This parasite is a product of my dad's first marriage to a loony (who subsequently left him in order spawn other rotten kids with some other poor fool). My "sister" has done nothing but drift in and out of our lives, causing endless amounts of trouble over the years, until she finally declared she wanted nothing more to do with us (hoo-f***ing-ray, what took you so long!).

Then, out of the blue, she gets in touch recently, only to strop off a few weeks later, but not before sending us all the most viscous text message, calling us all the names under the sun (including the dropping dead comment).

Well, I'm nice and mild mannered normally (ish), but I snapped. I tracked the hag down on one of the more popular "social networking" sites, and sent her the harshest email I could muster (nothing about dropping dead, that's tacky) but I did include a lengthy section on how unfortunate it was that our poor dad lent a hand in her conception, therefore suffering a lifetime of misery at her hands.

I hope she stays away for good this time. It is situations like this that sometimes really puts me off having children. I couldn't bear to have a child that could be so cruel to their own family. Witch.

It's been a good week for us. There has been much more progress on the fertility treatment front. The clinic put me on oestrogen pills this cycle to improve my CM and re-test it via a post-coital test (PCT), and I finally passed the test! The sperm were happily swimming around the morning after. My cervix no longer resembles a war zone strewn with wounded soldiers. What that means is that the CM problem is not deeper rooted, and proves that, with a hormonal nudge, I can create good quality CM.

Stage 1 of the next plan of action comes in the form of a fertility drug called Clomid. I will take 2 a day on cycle days 2-6, and it should force my ovaries to chuck an egg or two out. Yes, that's right – the odds of conceiving twins doubles while on Clomid. "But don't worry," says doctor, "the chance of triplets is slimmer." That's reassuring!

Stage 2 involves a laparoscopy and dye hydrotubation, to check my plumbing. I have to go into hospital for a day and have surgery, where they make an incision in my tummy, pump it up with gas to lift it away from my uterus, then stick a camera in there to have a good look around. They also flush dye through the tubes to check the gangway is clear for the egg and sperm to be able to get to each other. I need to book in for it for a few months time. We want to give the Clomid a go for a couple of cycles first – give it a chance and avoid the surgery if necessary.

The doctor was hilarious yesterday when we went in for this review. Whenever we've met her the other times, she was so stiff and unresponsive. Yesterday, I think she'd had a glass of wine with lunch or something, because she was cracking jokes left, right and centre. She said that I may get a bit hormonal on the Clomid, and asked J if he had a shed. He said no. She looked at him and stage whispered "Get one, you'll need it to hide from her." Brilliant.

I rang Penny last week, and it was ok. I felt able to relax a bit and go with the flow of conversation without feeling too awkward. She told me all about the birth and being stitched back together, and all the other stuff that ought to put me right off having a baby. She seems happy enough, which is good. It's definitely a step in the right direction to get our friendship back on track, although she did ask outright if we were planning on trying for a baby, which I thought was a bit out of line, considering that's kind of why we drifted apart in the first place.

I suppose I should explain the background first before I launch straight into what I'm going to do this week. I have a very good friend – perhaps I should call her my best friend – Penny. We have been friends for 8 years now. J and I started TTC around the time of her wedding 2 years ago, and I excitedly confided in her that we were trying. Well, little did I know that my ovaries were on strike at that point. As the months went by and nothing happened, I began to get more and more concerned that something was wrong.

Penny and I would chat regularly on the phone (we don't live near each other any more) and she would ask me all the time how things were going with TTC, and I would tell her. I admitted we were very worried there was a problem, and that we would probably seek help soon. Strangely, she used to ask me questions about maternity leave etc. because, planning a pregnancy, I had already looked into things like that ready for my big event! She said she wanted to know for a work colleague who was trying for a baby. I asked her when she was planning a family, and she said she didn't know.

Fast forward a few weeks. I'm at home cooking dinner. I receive a phone call from Penny, announcing she is pregnant. I am stunned. This is the friend that had asked me personal questions about planning a family, and my fertility troubles, and who I had confided in. I felt absolutely gutted that, having revealed so many personal details about my life, she kept this from me. The questions she asked about TTC and maternity leave weren't for her 'work colleague', they were for her. I kept asking myself, how could she keep this from me? She asked me all those questions when all along she was planning on becoming pregnant herself. I felt like a fool.

When the phone call ended, I dissolved into floods of tears in J's arms. I didn't stop for an hour. I felt so betrayed. She had her child in December and during the time she announced the pregnancy to the time of the birth, I have spoken to her twice. Both times were strained. It still feels so raw, I feel like I can't tell her anything now, even though so much has happened with the fertility investigations. During one of the phones calls, she had the cheek to ask me how our TTC was going. I lied and told her we weren't trying any more. What else could I say? I said that there was better things to do in life than to reproduce. A cruel thing to say to a pregnant woman, but I was hurt.

Out of the blue yesterday, I got a text from her, asking me to call her to catch up. She gave me specific times to call (after the baby is in bed) so it seems that she is keen to talk. And I will call. I have to try and get over this and forgive her, and patch up what was a fantastic friendship. It is too late to tell her why she hurt me so much, so I have to make an effort to swallow my pride and get on with it. It's going to be difficult – I'm a stubborn bitch!

The worst thing about our sub-fertility is having friends and family announcing babies left, right and centre. Sometimes I ache with the longing to carry a child. I'm waiting for my brother and his wife to announce a pregnancy any time now, as they have admitted it is something they are thinking about doing soon. I just hope I can take the news like a rational person!

I went to a job interview on Tuesday, which went very well considering I look like I've been in a fight thanks to the burst blood vessel in my eye. They liked me and I am going back for interview number two on Monday. Fingers, toes, eyes, everything crossed (but not legs, that won't help with the baby-making). I really want this job. My current job blows for many reasons of which I won't go into, but one is that 90% of my colleagues are all morons.

After the interview, I went to the supermarket to pick up stuff for pancakes, and the nurse at the clinic rang to arrange the next PCT now a new cycle has started. It was a private number ringing, and I answered it expecting to speak to the agency who sent me to the interview. The nurse and the recruitment consultant have very similar names, and for a moment I was alarmed as the why the agency was ringing to arrange a PCT for me!

We're going in on Tuesday morning. I think the oestrogen pills are working with regard to increasing the CM as there seems to be more of it the last few days, so hopefully they will get enough of a sample on this one visit and I won't have to keeping going back for more tests. It is very unpleasant for me, and I am guessing it is no picnic for the nurses either. Imagine having to rummage through someone's cervix after they've had a night of passion?

I had quite a scary start to the week on Sunday, but all seems to be well now. After being rudely awakened at 3am by a very painful period, I took my first oestrogen pill at 11am Sunday morning, to be taken in preparation for my next post-coital test on Day 10. Before I was prescribed them, the clinic interrogated me on the history of any blood clots/deep vein thrombosis etc. in my immediate family. I replied, "Erm, I don't think so." However, I did recall after the conversation that my dad's mother died from a brain haemorrhage, but thought nothing more of it.

Fast forward to Sunday afternoon. J and I had spent an hour mooching around the supermarket, debating what to eat for the upcoming week. We drove home, sat at some traffic lights for a minute and debated whether to have cheese and tomato toasties when we got home, or cheese and ham. I glanced over to my beloved in the drivers seat and watched his face drop. "Oh my god, what's wrong with your eye?!" he exclaimed. "Eh?" I replied. I pulled the visor down and looked in the mirror and there it was. A great big glob of blood on my eyeball. Shit.

Needless to say, the conversation with the doctor came flooding back to me… blood clots… haemorrhage… I won't deny it, I was crapping myself! Monday morning I was straight on the phone to the fertility clinic and the eye hospital to find out what the hell was going on. The eye hospital confirmed it was probably a burst blood vessel. The clinic said it wasn't the pills that caused it, but to get myself down to my GP immediately and have my blood pressure taken.

Blood pressure is fine. I am guessing it could well have been caused by a sneeze I was trying to stifle in the middle of the busy chilled department in the supermarket. That's the very last time I try and be polite in public.