I'm trying to put it out of my head, since it's obviously not meant for us yet, but it's hard when we've got to a point in which we want to get pregnant, we're ready to start our family and we're excited for that time, to just have to keep waiting.
Pretending to still be optimistic. Pretending not to be disappointed every 4 weeks. Pretending like I'm not secretly worried there's some physical issue. Pretending like I'm fully happy for all the people who announce their pregnancy (I swear with Facebook it's like one a week). Pretending like one more month will really be utilized as another month longer to save, or to get more in shape, or to just really enjoy it being just us two. Pretending I'm not jealous when I see people with kids. Pretending it's not discouraging when people ask when we're having kids.
How do people keep doing this? I get that it's only been six months and a few weeks, or seven attempts, but it feels like such a long time. I know they say the average healthy couple or like 85% of couples get pregnant in 6-12 months but it's still discouraging. And I don't have many people to talk to. Friends have either had their first, and not so recently, or had theirs recently but didn't have any wait time, or not even in the place where they're ready for children yet. And my mom tries to be comforting but she's "accidentally" conceived me over 30 years ago then had virtually no wait with Joe's conception. The only comfort has been to meet one new friend who has been trying with her husband for 25 months! That's forever to me. But she's also several years younger so maybe she still feels like she has plenty of time to keep trying.
Which it's not that I think 30 is old but in a sense, it is. I realize that my ability to get pregnant is so much less than it was when I was 15 but for crying out loud, who would've wanted me pregnant at 15 anyhow? Or 25? Frankly I was never ready to be a parent before now. And it's strange in a way to think of my period in the complete opposite way than I used to. Every cramp is now like an extra kick in the ovaries to rub it in that I'm not pregnant.
And although last month I took it like a champ, reasonable and practical and calm, every other month it's all I can do not to burst into tears every few minutes for at least the rest of the first day. I like to blame that on the rush of PMS/menstrual hormones that are also conveniently present when I realize another month was a bust. It feels terrible. I suddenly feel so depressed, so defeated and frustrated and disappointed and just sad. Then it brings Matt down because he thinks I'm mad at him and he can't cheer me up. Or worse, he thinks I'm just so unhappy with life of just the two of us.
Which isn't true. I am happy. And almost every other day of the month, I'm able to say in my head "okay, this is just more time to really appreciate having all Matt's attention, and him having all mine. To still be able to go out to breakfast without hassle. To still be able to go wherever I want without carting a child around. To still be sexual wherever we want. To sleep in to whatever hours, all through the night..." But the problem is that in my heart, I don't care about that. I'm already ready for sleepless nights and crying babies and poo'y diapers and feeling stressed and overburdened and overworked and underappreciated and... loved as a mother.
It's like realizing you're finally ready to be in a serious relationship then just waiting for that perfect guy to find his way into your life, not knowing when it'll happen and starting to half doubt that it will. Or realizing you're ready to marry that person, and then you're so excited that you just wish the wedding day was tomorrow so you could enjoy it and enjoy the ever-after, even as you know you should be appreciating the engagement.
It's terrifying to think how my life will change when we are finally pregnant. There's a little amount of fear in me. How could there not be (when I'm ominously told that my life will completely change forever in ways I can neither anticipate nor prepare for)? But the excitement that it might be time keeps me overanalyzing every body feeling for some early indication to put my mind at ease one way or another.
I'm too overanalytical for my own good. How can I not think about it so much?
Maybe baby wants a birthday right before mom & dad... guess we'll see if February brings us any luck...
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