Lately, I haven’t talked about health issues much around here. I don’t like to say too much, because the future is still unknown. Basically, there isn’t much to report. I’m still experiencing some ups and downs. For the most part, my energy is up, and I have been exercising regularly with L for about a month now. Naturally, L looks like a different person as he has shed a layer of fat off of him. I, on the other hand, have filled out a little. I got more junk in my trunk. Not complaining, but I am quite certain that men have it easier than women when it comes to weight loss, child bearing, oh, just about EVERYTHING. That’s bullshit.
Anyway, before my health issues took a nose dive, L and I were kinda sorta…trying to conceive. Remember my surgeon told me I should get knocked up? We were just following his advice. We weren’t using any birth control, and were playing it by ear. You tell yourself it’s no big deal, but when the pee stick doesn’t show positive (even though you have told every voice in your head not to get their hopes up) it is disappointing.
So we whizzed through about three or four cycles of TTC (trying to conceive, if you will). Time flies when you are having sex like a robot. (i.e. Am I ovulating? I’m ovulating! Assume the position.)
Then I had that crazy birth control month where I practically bled out, and things started to get pretty grim after that. Let’s just say, no sexy time for awhile…AND…not an opportune time for my body to get pregnant anyway. I was white as a ghost from iron deficiency, and I could barely walk from my bed to the bathroom to change my elephant-sized pad.
It’s been about two months since the bleed out scenario. I am taking my supplements, and feeling stronger. We might be ready to start trying again. I always say “might” because I am a weirdo and superstitious and don’t like to jinx things. If it were up to me, there would never be such a phrase as “trying to conceive”. I’m not good when it comes to trying at things. Before you roll your eyes and unsubscribe from this blog, it’s not as obnoxious as it sounds.
I feel like if I say it out loud that makes it real. And if it’s real, and I don’t get the results I am hoping for, I’m a total loser. This medical stuff already makes me feel like I am always a step behind. It’s all out of my control. And although I don’t need to be in control of everything in my life, it would be nice to be friends with my body and get it to do favors for me…like get pregnant when I want it to. Is that such a big favor to ask? 🙂
So I sit around and pretend like it doesn’t matter that much to me. I play these little head games with myself. When L’s cousin announced her pregnancy, I smiled through it, even though it chipped away a little at my heart. Or when I see the baby section at Macy’s, I don’t avoid it. I walk through it with my head held high. I tell myself that it’s okay, because these things take time. Then I read a dozen or so stories online about couples that get pregnant on the first try. I’m back to feeling like a failure.
I try to look so strong on the outside, so put together and unfazed, but the reality is that I feel it just as deeply as the woman who is telling everyone that will listen,
I don’t even know if this post makes any sense. I am still trying to figure out how I feel about “trying to conceive”. I’d love to share more about it, but due to my own denial issues, I haven’t been able to make heads or tails of this new-ish journey in my life. (And to clarify, I am happy for women that get pregnant and/or conceived easily. This is my personal issue that I dare not place on others. However, I do understand feeling blue when you hear others are experiencing what you want to experience. It’s only natural. )
Maybe I should be posting this on the boards of an online (in) fertility community. To be honest, I don’t know much about them. I won’t knock it until I’ve tried it, but, as an outsider, those ladies kinda scare me.