I have gone back and forth on whether I was going to post about today about a dozen times this morning…but I think I am ready to start being more open about this. It is cycle day one, and for those not familiar with the terminology, means I am not pregnant because my period just started. Probably too much information for some people, I know, but get ready for a whole lot more of it because month nine of trying to conceive our first has just started.
Last month, cycle number eight was a bust, because Logan was out of town the entire month, so this visit from AF (“Aunt Flo” aka period) was totally expected. I think having no hope that last cycle might lead to positive pregnancy test was exactly what I needed. After months and months of negative tests I was starting to feel really defeated, but no more of that. I know some day I will be a mother, some how, and right now I just need to have faith that it will happen exactly when God wants it to happen.
I wasn’t sure I was up for trying this month. But after not charting last cycle and not knowing when to expect my period, I realized that I like knowing what is going on with my body. So I will be using my clear blue easy fertility monitor to track my cycle this month and I will obviously be “baby dancing” with my husband because we are newlyweds after all and if that leads to a positive pregnancy test in a month, I will be thrilled. And if not, well then, maybe next month..
Positive outlook only.
My Freshman English class in high school had a textbook with more pages than some versions of The Bible. It was the heaviest book I have ever had the privilege of lugging around, period. Everyone hated it. The ironic part was that we were responsible for bringing it to class every day, but we hardly read out of the thing. I believe it was three short stories in total that we read, which amounts to having cracked its’ cover three times in class and none at home. Flipping through the pages one day while half-listening to people giving their Macbeth speeches, I found the second piece of literature that has stuck with me since high school. It was titled, “The Universe,” by May Swenson.
My favorite line from the short poem goes like this: “And what if the universe is not about us? Then what? What is it about? And what about us?“ I suppose it resonated with me because I read it during a time in my life when there wasn’t much to hold on to. High school was just beginning and I never really fit in anywhere those four years. My junior high friends had all but gone their separate ways and I was struggling to find a meaning to life beyond the four walls of my classroom. I was lost in a way I used to think only fifteen-year olds could be; but have since welcomed that lost feeling as something familiar. I remember thinking to myself that I would have it all figured out by the time I was my age now… That certainly seven to ten years later I would have a better grip on life in general.
I don’t. A good third of my blog posts prove I have no idea what I am doing, and another third show that I am far too impatient. I still wonder sometimes, when I stumble across news articles of shaken babies and college students being tear-gased for protesting, what about us? It is a question I asked “The Universe” when I was younger, one which I ask God on a fairly regular business now. Why do things have to be this way, and why does it feel every time I try to get ahead I get smacked back down again?
The unfortunate part of asking God is that I know, just as if i were talking to the air, or to the universe at large, I probably won’t ever get an answer… but that doesn’t stop me from asking.
My plans don’t seem to match up well with God’s idea of how my life is going to go lately.
I say that because almost everything I pray for doesn’t work out how I pray it will, and even the things I pray about that do happen, tend to happen in such unusual ways.
It feels too obvious to say that we must not be on the same level; that we are not seeing the same big picture. We do not have the same goals in sight.
I feel like I need to drastically overhaul where I thought I was headed, towards puppy land and mommyhood. If I am not getting anywhere headed in this direction, maybe I am going the wrong way.
Maybe a string of small disappointments can change everything. I don’t know yet. I am still processing, still writing just to have these thoughts written down somewhere. I need time to think about what my next move will be, because the more I think about, the more I feel like I was headed down another dead end.