I spent 349 months before I got pregnant with Leila and 15 months after Leila was born not pregnant. Unfortunately they were completely worthless in terms of preparing me for these past 11 months. Now not pregnant has something attached to it. The more I’m not pregnant, the less I get used to it, the more I think about it.
I think about it when I eat or drink or go to the grocery store or limit my search for recipes to grain-averse, sugar-eschewing, paleo-friendly corners of the blogosphere. When I turn down a cup of coffee or a glass of wine or a cold beer because I might just maybe be pregnant, and I even start to forgo them when I know for sure I’m not because I want to do everything in my power to boost our future chances. I think about it when I eat that piece of chocolate Easter candy after my acupuncturist gave me some nutritional information, and sugar was most definitely on the avoid list. When I peruse the internet for how to prepare calf liver and try to decide whether I have the courage to buy it and prepare it and then actually eat it.
I think about it when I take Leila to classes, where it seems as if she is the only one without an older sibling at school or a younger sibling in a sling or a mama with a growing bump. I think about it at story time at the library when the theme is siblings, and I feel my face turn hot when I can’t prompt Leila to raise her hand when the librarian asks who has a brother or a sister.
I think about it every Wednesday morning since January 15th when I go to my acupuncturist or the 1st two minutes of my morning when I’m taking my temperature. When I go ahead and book appointments with fertility specialists because 11 months means we’re teetering on that line between “trying” and “infertile,” and I want to make sure we’ve got a net if we fall on the other side. And I’m wondering how far away we are from financing an adoption.
I think about it when people ask how old Leila is because that is often followed by “Do you want more?” and although I do not mind that question, I wince when it is followed by “Well, don’t wait too long.” When I answer by telling people “We’re trying” (shorthand for, “Yes, we are diligently having unprotected…”), or I start to try to preempt the question and end up oversharing and doing things like telling my yoga instructor we’re having trouble getting pregnant and I spent the class breathing into my uterus when all we were doing was talking about Leila.
And then I think about how much time I’m spending thinking about it.
But I am not alone is all this thinking. That is probably my favorite thing about blogs. It is always comforting to read the exact thing you were thinking written by someone you do not know all.