[I found trying to get pregnant felt even more isolating and frustrating than the secrecy and fear that came with the first trimester of pregnancy. There is so little out there on trying to get pregnant. There are apps, and some forums, but there’s very little writing online from real people on how long or how hard it was for them to get pregnant. As much as the first trimester feels like a time of secrecy, trying for baby felt at times, even worse. Here are some of my thoughts and feelings during our journey in a series I’m calling, Trying for Baby.]
I finally cracked. I thought for sure it might have happened. The early tests said it was hopeless, but a certain visitor still hadn’t showed. The anticipation and hope felt too much to carry with me day after day. How in the world was I supposed to get through tasks at work when this news refused to reveal itself to me?
And then the answer. A strong, decisive, NO. This will not be happening. After four months of this roller coaster it isn’t happening, again. I felt like an absolute failure. How could we do all the right things, track all the right things, time all the right things, and keep striking out while others on my app recorded their positives? I was so over feeling like we were broken.
Sitting on the couch I broached the subject of a break. In two months we’d be headed to Myrtle Beach for a vacation seven years in the making and the selfish part of me kicked in. I didn’t want to feel sick on this trip. I didn’t want to watch what I ate. I didn’t want to spend my entire six night trip without a glass of wine. My emotions were shot after these past four months, and I wanted to just look forward to my vacation, and nothing more.
And so we stopped. No more ovulation sticks. No more logging the app. No more fertile weeks or two week waits or any of the nonsense that had plagued our lives the last four months. People joked this is when it would work. When we weren’t trying.
But it still didn’t.
And instead of feeling two more cycles of disappointment and failure, I felt NOTHING. Blissful, wonderful, NOTHING.
For two months my mind took a break. I celebrated another friend who had recently found out she was pregnant, sending a box filled with tiny clothes, baby mobiles and toys. I threw a mini gender reveal party for another expecting friend. Ladies at work announced they were expecting, and instead of wanting to murder them and steal their unborn children, I smiled. I worked out. I ate well. I enjoyed wine and didn’t wonder if this cycle I should think about giving it up for the two week wait. It was the best thing we ever did.
For two months my nerves repaired. My emotions tampered. And by the time we got on the plane to head to Myrtle Beach where my fertile week timed perfectly with our vacation I was excited to try again. I didn’t know if it would work or not, but for a change it felt like the beginning of the adventure instead of the end of a battle.