I have this whole politically themed post in my head, but it’s going to have to wait until the weekend.
I’m off to meet with an RE in two weeks. On top of that, I’m going to start acupuncture and massage. It’s time. I kept saying I was going to wait until I was tested once more during the next Day 21-23 of my cycle, but since I stopped paying attention, and thought I was nearing to that, I missed the window and I don’t want to wait another month for something we can test at the RE’s.
I’m ready to move along. I’m ready to know better, know more. So is my husband.
I’ve been waking up every morning at 4:30, every day, for boot camp classes. For an hour I work my ass off at a studio near my house. I don’t know what has happened, but a light turned on. I attribute this mostly to adrenaline and the charm that comes from a new experience, but it’s helping. My energy levels are insane, even on those days when I’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep. I don’t know if I’ve lost any weight, but I feel amazing.
I think it’s giving me the courage to try, to take the leap.
I’ll be honest: when I had some conclusive evidence as to why I wasn’t getting pregnant, evidence that made it clear that it was unlikely we’d get pregnant without some medical intervention, I felt pretty freed. And while I didn’t not want to be pregnant, it did make the act of getting pregnant, and all the surrounds it, less dire. I ate sushi. Drank an extra glass of wine. I didn’t notice every pregnant woman who walked down the street. You get the drill.
It was nice to take a break from the business of birth and live a little.
But a comment was made – I don’t think directly about me and this whole fertility business – by someone in my life in reference to Mother’s Day that made it clear that I was not an integral part of Mother’s Day, despite me being a daughter. This person is a mother herself, and I think the suggestion was that it was her day, not mine.
I felt my gut go through my throat. My husband got quiet, and had that look of stoicism he usually reserves for when he’s really pissed. I knew this wasn’t about us, but the whole “Someone else is a parent, not you” sentiment is getting old, especially when you’re just standing still and not really doing anything about it.
We have no one to blame but ourselves, and I’m officially tired of being actively passive about it.
I re-read some parts of Eat, Pray, Love recently, and there is a bit at the end where Elizabeth Gilbert comments on happiness, and how so many think it’s a result of luck, when actually it’s hard work. And, once you find happiness, it’s your duty to hold on to it, to continue to work for it. We are so, so happy. I am a bit boggled by the thread of happiness that’s weaved continuously in our life. No, our life isn’t perfect, but it’s joyful.
Again, this might be all that damn adrenaline, but in recent weeks I feel like I’ve woken up from a deep, deep sleep, and now I’m rested and ready to get to the work of being happy. When I think of the clutter and toxicity I’ve removed from my life in the past five months, it’s easier to see how that’s possible.
