April 26, 2005
If there is one good thing about full-blown, crampy, undeniable menstruation, it's knowing that you're not pregnant. It's seeing that your temps have dropped, your boobs have lost all tenderness, and whatever was in your uterus has bid farewell.
You read that right.
I spent weeks wondering, "Will I ovulate? Have I ovulated? Did we do the deed at the right time? Did we conceive? Are my boobs sore because I'm pregnant? Is that why I'm so tired? What will my temp be tomorrow?"
Now I don't have to wonder. I know. I have a full week to rest from the anxieties of babymaking.
Back to My Old Self
I even have a new perspective on this whole babymaking thing. While waiting to conceive, my big concern was the emotional turmoil I'd have if it didn't happen right away. Well, I haven't cried once since my period came. Worry about the failed cycle was much worse than the reality.
I know that I've got his month to try again. And next month. And maybe making a poop-machine will take longer than I thought but, somehow, it's okay.
In fact, while shopping in Target a few days ago, I heard an infant crying. Lately, that sound has ignited my maternal instinct, overwhelming me with a need to nurture and comfort said baby. Well, when I heard it yesterday, it just got on my nerves.
Feeling more like myself here.
Life Goes On
While at Target, I bought some normal non-maternity clothing for the first time in over six months. I've spent all this time holding back, determined that I'd get little wear out of anything before getting pregnant. Besides, I wanted to moolah for some of those adorable maternity ensembles.
In the meantime, I actually have needed new clothes. Ever since my thigh explosion (seriously, I woke up one morning to find my hips two sizes larger than the rest of my body), I've been unable to wear much of what's in my closet.
Well, I've got to move on with my life. How I loved my shopping spree! I'd almost forgotten the joy of prancing around in spanking new britches.
Maybe I'll give myself a consolation prize each month we don't conceive: a new outfit.
Penny-pinching hasn't been my only restraint in preparing to conceive. Since reading that alcohol can impair fertility, I've all but joined the temperance movement.
But a funny thing happened during my two-week wait. While taking a walk with Tom, I saw a Purple Haze beer bottle on the ground. All indignation at littering was lost in longing for my favorite beer. I decided then and there that should Aunt Flo arrive, I'd grant myself a night of beer and pizza.
A few nights later, I sat down to pizza, substituting my usual salad for three Purple Hazes. There's another monthly consolation prize.
The next night, my in-laws kept filling my wine glass, which I deemed acceptable to soothe my muscles after a long day of horseback riding.
Two nights in a row, I feel like a lush! A happy lush.