
December the first makes it one year and six months of this infertility. No babies, no babies, no babies. Just . . . tragedy.
Did you know that getting pregnant is like playing Russian Roulette? It's impossible to get pregnant! The likelihood of falling pregnant in a cycle is something absurd like twenty percent. I had no idea that couples struggled, that it could be possible to go three months . . . six months . . . eight months before finally getting something going. It just didn't occur to me! My mother had no trouble, my aunts had no trouble, my cousins had the very extreme end of no trouble . . .
Once I realized waht was happening I hunkered down. I prepared mysel not to get carried away in hopes. Where some people were expecting babies, I was expecting not-babies. But doesn't that just sound like a recipe for success?
Late last night as December crept slowly in I decided to honor the sadness properly. I rummaged through my drawer and brought out the journal I've kept on and off through this whole endeavor. And let me tell you, it was a sobering read. That journal, man. The pessimism in there nearly broke my heart. And what kills me is this - I am not a pessimistic person. What have I been doing to myself?
I think I have been confusing the Universe with my mixed messages. When I see babies it is like the bottom drops out from under me. When I see pregnant women I feel angry and alone, like I've been abandoned. When talk amongst my friends turns to mothering and labor stories and pregnancy complaints I struggle to hold back the tears. What am I saying to the Universe here?
Because, quite the contrary, I want babies! I want to carry a baby, give birth to a baby, nurse a baby, hold a baby, mother a baby. I have these instincts, and they are telling me that I will be good at it.
I want a baby the way some might want a sandwich. Hunger. That's the word.
I want a baby the way some might want a sandwich. Hunger. That's the word.
Maybe trying to protect my heart by expecting the worst wasn't my smartest idea. Fatalistic self-determinism? Well, forget that.
It is a somewhat frightening proposition, but I am adjusting my frequency. I am going to let my heart want this with everything it's got. The armor is down, the shields are put away. The hope is out and I'm not going to protect myself anymore.
I have always believed that even when we have no power, we still have control.
We control our lives by the choices we make.
I am making a choice.
I am choosing now to believe that it is possible.









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