Day 2035: In the uphill battling of trying to conceive that my poor
husband and I have been enduring for the last months of no success, I have to
say, nothing frustrates me more than when people say “It will happen when you
stop trying,” or “Try not to care so much…” Can you see me staring with horror,
jaw dropped to the ground?
I expected that baby making would be fun and easy. Why
wouldn’t it be? Our parent’s never had any trouble. And, yes, while I will
admit that the actual baby dancing action is fun, everything else that comes
with it is not. People give opinions on if you are trying to soon or not soon
enough, if you are trying too hard or not hard enough among the onslaught of
the two week waits and visits from Aunt Flow. But my question remains, how do
you care less, try less, or think less about it? If only I knew, my gosh, this
would be so much easier.
And to make things worse, Pinterest and Facebook are
crawling with pictures and ideas for the beautiful spawn of the world. Photo
sessions with teeny flower headbands, tiny classy suits, my imagination has an
endless stream of hopes and dreams for something that doesn’t even exist. And
my gosh! Don’t even get me started on all the shopping!
It seems that since we have walked the aisle of marriage
every banner advertisement I’ve seen has something that I can’t help but
picture using on or with our child. And the saver in me wants to start stocking
up when I see a good deal, or even WORSE, when that beautiful convertible
nursery set that I have been eyeing for months, each time hoping that this will
be it, this will be the month that I need a place for our beautiful baby to
sleep and grow, goes on sale, I feel like I cry a little inside. Because I can’t
buy it now, knowing that I will have to look at it every day, reminding myself
what we don’t have, but want so desperately bad.
I wish I could care less sometimes. It would make it easier
as each month passes unsuccessfully, brought up with the tears and sadness that
dashes away any hope that this time will be our chance. But we have been
waiting our whole lives for this, and I have to remember that in the end, all
the tears and chocolate donuts will be worth. And we probably won’t be able to
care less, try less, or think about it less, just like you wouldn’t expect a
child to care less and think less and just sleep the night before Christmas.
And I can bet, that once our time does come, once we get to witness those two
beautiful pink lines, all the waiting won’t matter anymore.
