living on hope street

So perhaps it was a little silly for me to think that I would get pregnant the very first month we tried. A girl can hope right? After a two negative pregnancy tests I finally got my period, which was actually a welcome relief after playing the "am I? am I not?" game for about a week and a half. The stupid thing was, that a later period happened to coincide with a bout of the flu that was going around, so what was I to think? I had a good cry or two and moved on.

Peter said that it would have been easier to take if I hadn't already figured out that I would be due about the middle of May, or that I would be finished my first trimester before we went to Wyoming to see his parents in November. Or that I would probably have the Gabe or Bella question answered just in time for Christmas. So if I processed things like a boy, I'd have been fine, and not quite as disappointed as I was. Fantastic. Since that's not going to happen without me getting a sex change and making the whole pregnancy question moot anyway, I guess I'd better try something else.

How can you hope without imagining all the things you hope for? If I hope one day we go on an all-inclusive trip to Mexico, I instantly start thinking of the beach. Of a swim up bar, and a pina colada and looking hot in a swimsuit, and then dieting to look hot in a swimsuit, and then what I have in the fridge to make for dinner that is diet friendly. Then I think of making Thai salad wraps and then how much easier it is to go for Thai food, and how much I love Thai food. Then I think that I have to eat at home because I want to save my money for Mexico, and then I smile thinking about the beach, and it all starts again. You see? It's a slippery slope, hope is.

So when I hope that Peter and I get pregnant this month, I think that I would find out for sure just in time to tell Robyn on her birthday, and that having a baby in late June sounds lovely, and that I love having my birthday exactly six months after Christmas, and wouldn't little Gabe or Bella like it too? Never having to wait too long for presents. Then I think of Christmas, and having a six month old baby in my arms, with a glass of egg nog in my hand, sitting in front of the Christmas tree, and Peter with his arms around us as we all watch a Sunday night football game. I think of finding out just in time that we could keep it a secret from Peter's family until we could tell them in person, instead of over the phone, which would mean the world to me. I think of it being close enough to my friend Joy's baby that we could maybe have a joint baby shower. You see? I can't help myself.

I'm trying though. I'm trying not to think about it. I'm trying to think about work and cleaning my house, and learning to bake this winter and that Thanksgiving is coming and so starts the fights with Robyn as to whether to put marshmallows on my Thanksgiving yams (that should take up a fair bit of time). I've taken out a million library books and am going to study for my upcoming work exam. I will distract myself and not worry about getting pregnant. But at the same time, you have to think about it. For all our talk of "not trying" I can't help but count the days and try to figure out if I'm ovulating, and if I am, well, "we really should be going, but thanks so much for dinner!" Nobody tells you how to do this. Not the make a baby part, we're good with that, thanks. Nobody tells you how to not think about it all the time. How to not feel loss when you find out you aren't, and how to not worry about it. They just tell you not to worry. Relax, try again, it'll happen. I'm trying. For the next three and a half weeks though, we're living in limbo again. Am I? Aren't I? If I'm not, man, I'd love a glass of wine and a scalding hot bath. If I am, then...oh man. Here I go again.