I mentioned to Mike recently how we need to eventually do something about our washer that keeps on ruining our clothes (we think it has rust in it and it’s out of pure laziness that we do not get rid of it – we have an extra one that works perfectly fine sitting in the back room of our basement) and I mentioned that I’m going to have to go clothes shopping soon if any more of my clothes come out with stains all over them. A thought flitted across my mind of “you’re trying to get pregnant, why would you buy more clothes” before it was quickly replaced by “you might as well, it’s going to be awhile before you get pregnant.”
This reminded me of how much I have put portions of my life on hold when Mike and I first decided to try to get pregnant. Let’s see…I stopped eating fish, stopped drinking alcohol, cut back on coffee, and have had to convince myself to buy new clothes. The first couple of months I was pretty strict with myself keeping to the new regimen, then slowly, every month, I’ve relaxed more and more on these requirements. And now…I’ve given up on them.
In my attempt to look at the positive aspects of mine and Mike’s infertility ordeal, I’ve come to the realization that it’s almost liberating knowing that the months that we can actually try to get pregnant are going to be scheduled. I can eat and drink anything I want without being concerned that I’m going to get pregnant and hurt the baby by not staying away from these “taboo” items. I can have 4 or 5 or even 6 cups of coffee, and not have to think “oh, what if I’m pregnant?” (not to say that is healthy for me, but you know what I mean). I can go to Atlantic City for the weekend and get totally sloshed. Because I know that in order to get pregnant, a fucking miracle would have to occur without medical intervention. See, positive thinking…
A woman I work with showed me a scrapbook she had put together for her husband for father’s day. I thought it was so sweet, but I had to fight back tears. I hate this. I do not like being a dramatic person, and I feel like that is exactly what I am doing. I’ve read other people’s stories of infertility, and theirs is much more devastating than mine. I know there is still hope in my case. It’s not as if we’ve been trying for years to have a baby, and tried everything. We haven’t even begun trying (well, not medically anyway).
I feel hopeful, I feel frustrated, I feel sad all in one. Some days are better than others. My friend called me the other day and asked me if I am pregnant yet – I haven’t told her the news. She started making jokes about giving me her eggs. I just didn’t want to turn the conversation into this dreary thing…so I just laughed. She then told me that our friend Heather is pregnant – by accident. I jokingly said “that bitch”…but I was only half-joking. I’m just tired of hearing about all these women getting pregnant from one night stands, or because they forgot to use a condom that one time. It’s just too much. Why does it seem like the people who really want children have such a hard time, and the people who don’t even care are getting pregnant so easily? For as many infertility stories I’ve heard, I’ve heard just as many of the one-night stand stories. And if I were to say all of this to someone without infertility problems, guess what I would probably hear? “Just relax!”