No New Tale to Tell

Chances are we'll be inseminating within the next 48-72 hours. You'd never know it from my emotional state. I'm not excited, worried, frantic, obsessing about timing and logistics, or frankly even particularly interested. Ho hum, time to do an OPK. Oh, I drank too much water? No big deal. I'll do it anyway. Compared to last month's circus, this cycle seems boring. All we have to do is pick up the phone, call the doctor* and schedule an IUI after I get a positive OPK. I'll get spermed in the warm**, sterile, well-equipped doctor's office far, far away from any family members other than Cait. There's no drama, there's no pressure, there's ... nothing. It's just another thing on the to do list for the week, along with "pick up dry cleaning" and "clean out the study". I still desperately, achingly, consumingly want a baby as fast as possible, but I may have reached that half-Zen, half-numb place where I can mechanically go through the motions of inseminating, waiting, and finding out.***

After the second cycle we attempted last year, I was an emotional wreck and could not contemplate months or years of trying unsuccessfully. I kept asking my friends who had endured difficulty conceiving how they kept going, month after month. They all assured me that in a way, it becomes easier with time. You don't spend every living second obsessing. You just go on with your life. But that didn't happen for us. Each cycle of trying was as overwhelming and all-consuming as the first. The endless enforced months of not trying were different, but filled with grief and frustration.

When we started up again last month, I was upset to discover that I hadn't made any progress towards "just living" while TTCing. After the reality of the failed cycle hit home last weekend and I was wallowing in despair, I thought, "I'll never get to that place. How can I keep doing this if it dominates my whole existence like this?" However, over the course of this week, the emotional storm that has surrounded all of our attempts to get pregnant has slowly but surely been downgraded from a hurricane to a languid summer breeze. Suddenly, it seems, I am in "that place". I may be able to try to get pregnant and live my life, all at the same time.

It's also possible that last month's Spermtacular was so overwhelmingly complicated, dramatic, confusing, and emotional that we have no reserves available this month. But it feels like something really has changed. Since I've vowed not to chart temperatures or test during the TWW, I may be able to maintain some level of calm. I hope so. If I can stay in this drama-free zone, it will be a much more peaceful way to approach TTCing. My only fear is that if I get too detached, it could reduce our chances of success, both karmically and practically. Karmically because the powers that be might think I don't care or want it badly enough; practically because (as with the OPK example) I might get so laid back that I screw up the timing or do something stupid that reduces the possibility of conception.

If I have gotten to a semi-stable, detached, Zen-like approach to this roller coaster, I fear it will have negative implications for the blog. I mean, how many times can you write "Maybe I'm pregnant; maybe not. Leftovers for dinner again," and make it interesting or funny. (Zero, I think.) On the other hand, I may look back at this post from the vantage point of next Sunday night and laugh my ass off. Who knows? Only time will tell....

*Oh yes, there's a new doctor in town. Dr. Easygoing is willing to do an IUI as long as we sign a waiver saying we understand the risks of attempting to conceive before 6 months of successive negative betas.
**Yes, doctor's offices are often cold. But they're warmer than 50-some degrees in an unheated garage, to be sure!
***Of course, that's easy to say on this side of the syringe. Ask me at the end of the week and we'll find out the true answer.