Lessons Learned from TTC

If there’s one thing that I’ve learned so far from trying to conceive, it’s that I’m not as strong or invincible as I thought.  I’m not able to handle things as well as I thought I could.  This fact was mostly strongly impressed upon me last Sunday as I sat on our living room floor amidst still-unpacked moving boxes and bags, looking out the patio door and sobbing over the spotting that indicated the imminent arrival of my period.  I felt like crap that day, and I figured I was falling apart over this whole trying-to-have-a-baby thing.  Not only was I an emotional mess, but I had been having skipped heartbeats for the past five days and was starting to feel weak and lightheaded all the time.  This had happened to me in the past, but never for more than a day or less, and I always attributed it to fatigue or stress.  This must be stressing me out more than I realized, I thought, for it to be causing somatic symptoms to such a degree!

I think at that moment I kind of made peace with the fact that all my best intentions for being calm and cool during the most trying events are only wishful thinking.  I’m not handling trying to conceive with all the grace and beauty that I’d envisioned.  That probably means that I won’t handle giving birth at home without routine medical interventions or pain medications in a way that one could call graceful either.  And that’s ok.  I’m able to remove myself from my situation and analyze my feelings and actions so well that I sometimes forget that all my emotions are still raging intensely under the surface somewhere.  I may be able to envision the perfect reactions or the perfect mind/body rationale, but it doesn’t mean I will always be able to enact it that way.  I may fall apart as a new mom when the responsibilities overwhelm me.  I may make some big parenting screw-ups.  I may do some of the very things that I see in others now and, with my neatly compartmentalized mind, condemn as unnecessary, wrong, or foolish.  I should probably just go ahead and accept that reality now so that I won’t add self-condemnation to the mess when that day comes.

For now, I at least have broken the news to myself that I get stressed about trying to have a baby.  I get sad when it doesn’t happen that month.  But then I move on, and I’m ok.  Well, mostly.  Read the rest of the story about my skipped heartbeats here.  It’s been an ordeal, and it unfortunately isn’t over.

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