This guest poster speaks the blunt and honest truth for a lot of us ladies out there…I hope she keeps writing for us. Without further ado, Victoria =^D
It’s a whole other universe out there, when you’re trying to conceive. Your body aches, longs and pines for a life to be growing inside you. You dream about those little pink lines at night. You religiously track your cycle and analyze every. Little. Thing your body does!
From burping to headaches, you convince yourself, this is it! This is my month. And then you wait for the big O. Now, I’m not talking about an orgasm, though naturally, that all adds to the fun of conceiving. No, I am referring to ovulation. One of those weird, taboo words we’re not supposed to say…ovulate. It’s up there with cervical mucus and cervix firmness.
But for the ladies that are actively trying to get knocked up, it’s their everyday vocabulary. Abbreviations begin floating into conversations with friends. “Yeah, I’m like 8 DPO and in my 2WW. It’s so difficult. I’m pretty sure AF is circling though. But, the EWCM was so promising this cycle!”
Roughly translated… “Yeah, I’m like 8 days past ovulation and in my 2 week wait. It’s so difficult and I’m pretty sure Aunt Flow is circling though. But, the egg white cervical mucus was so promising this cycle.”
All of these terms probably seem alien to you unless you too have experienced the emotional process of TTC (Trying to conceive) See, when you’re a kid, you kind of just assume you’ll grow up, meet someone, fall in love, get married and have babies. Right? WRONG!
And not to mention all the sex! There is nothing as unbelievably unsexy than planned, regimented, scheduled sex every two days! I begin to look at my husband as less than human and more like a sperm bank. “It’s Friday. Time for a deposit, lover!”
And even when the deed is done and the little swimmers are making their way to the (hopefully) ripe and ready egg…it’s still not over. In fact, now the real heart wrenching, body aching and vomit inducing anxiety starts!
You talk about it constantly. Every day Aunt Flow stays away you’re that much closer to your baby dreams! Your husband tries to hide his excitement. You begin gazing at baby clothes, furniture, wallpaper etc. You even stopped hating your neighbor who is knocked up, again, with her fourth! Because apparently the woman can’t look at a guy without getting pregnant!
But you’ll make idle chit chat with her because soon, you’ll be in her club too! Your heart swells with excited joy and you begin to plan your little darling’s whole life!
And then, AF is late! It’s late! She’s not here!
So you rush to the bathroom, pregnancy test in hand and lovingly gaze at the tiny little window; praying for just one more little line. A hint of a line and…nothing. Zilch. Nada. You toss the damn thing in the trash and hate yourself for thinking you were even close.
You go out, get a cup of coffee from Starbucks and wallow for three hours, hating your uterus. And then, just as you stand to leave…Aunt Flow shows up with more baggage than ever! She’s ready to settle in for a week-long visit.
And you loath her. Hate her. Fuck you, Aunt Flow!
Shut up, Aunt Flow!