As you all know, when you're TTC your entire life is divided into two week segments. Two weeks waiting to ovulate, two weeks waiting to see if whatever you did worked--be it treatment or plain old fashioned s-e-x.
I remember my sister telling me about this strange new way to count time when we first started trying--of course she endured that for all of three months with each of her pregnancies.
The other day I knew I was ovulating. It's pretty obvious. And I had an 'interest' in the mister (trying to stay polite here). 'Cuz that's biology for you--must keep on the path to procreate--the species must survive!
But no, no, and no.
I told him "Gee I'd really like to have sex with you but no. I'm ovulating and no matter what I refuse to live my life in two week segments anymore. Despite our stopping of treatment, despite our moving on to other options, I know me. My stupid little feeble brain will start playing the 'what if' game, and I don't want to live the next two weeks with that thought rattling around in the background, and then wind up disappointed even though I know our chances of natural conception are somewhere on the order of 0.000001%."
I'm not ready for a hysterectomy yet, but really? IF is still has the power to muck up my s-e-x life.
And why, then, am I surprised when I overhear a pregnant coworker making an announcement which was then followed by four women around the lunch table comparing pregnancy stories, comparing how fertile they were (apparently one merely had to wash her underwear with her husband's and BOOM, pregnant!), and talking about their cravings and what it meant for their now school-age children and their food preferences--why am I surprised that I felt tears well up in my eyes for a brief minute?
I just sat there and stared into my salad. I think I cut my lettuce somewhat angrily.
When the topic turned to how fertile their own mothers were--the implication being that it is somewhat genetic--I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying "My mother was incredibly fertile, as was my sister, and I am 100% barren."
But I kept it inside. I didn't want to spoil my coworker's happy moment.
But I realized--when you adopt you don't get those bonding moments. It's rare I meet anyone who is adopting or has adopted. OK--less than rare. I don't know anyone in real life. It just isn't a shared experience for most women.
So I just sat there, cutting my lettuce, willing the conversation to hurry up and END already. And so, so happy I wasn't in the middle of some damned two-week wait.
2 years ago