Panicking

I was so knackered yesterday afternoon that instead of climbing into the shower when I got back from the gym, I climbed into bed and slept for nearly 2 hours until H came up to wake me up. The sun was setting as we laid in bed together for a while, chatting about this and that.

We talked about the coming week, with the HSG on Thursday, and discussed if we would be able to try this month given that the HSG is on CD12. With H's issue, I really hate that we have yet another month where the first time we try to have sex will be a critical day (because we have to have 'safe sex' until the day of the HSG).

I said I wanted to schedule an IUI for the next cycle if it doesn't work this cycle, and started to figure out when the baby would be due if the IUI worked (I know, I know). It turns out the due date would be end Jan which is slap bang in the middle of almost all the other birthdays in H's family: His nephew on 5 jan, mine on 13 Jan, his mother on 18 Jan, my father on 24 Jan, his father on 4 Feb, his sister-in-law on 21 Feb. We laughed that his family will give us a really hard time for introducing another birthday into that mess.

Then I did something really stupid. I started to think about the next baby, and realised that there is no way it would arrive before I'm 40. In fact we'd have to start trying just 5-6 months after number one if we wanted to get pregnant before I'm 40, let alone have a baby. I started to get really panicky about the likelihood we'll just have one child, when I've always had real concerns about only children after some experiences in my early 20s (another post I think). H managed to calm me down with his mantra of: "I believe everything will be ok," but I was in a bit of a funk for the rest of the evening.

Yes I know this is utterly ridiculous. I'm thinking back to what my friend K said a few weeks ago: "T., you've always been a worrier". I hadn't thought about it that way, but she's right. So if stress is a problem in conception (and yes I know the argument about crack whores but it still might be one of many contributing factors), I'm toast. Got to get back to meditating, which I'm actively resisting right now for some reason.

Although I'm also getting better at setting boundaries. I'm in Copenhagen tomorrow for an internal meeting, which is set up such that I'd have to fly the night before to be there on time, and I've just told them that I'll be there late - taking the first flight Monday morning instead of screwing up my Sunday. Tough.

Now I have to go and work. What was that about boundaries again?

Comments

[wessel]

I got married at age 39. We knew we wanted 3 children. I had always gotten pregnant easily so thought, ok, I am going to have to have my babies back to back in order to get 3 in before age 42 (which was, in my silly mind, the magical age at which everyone's ovaries switch to "off" Little did I know mine had burned out their battery long ago). It'll be tough, I told myself, but I'll just have to do it . . . .

Here I am 43 and still waiting for one miracle. But you know what, I haven't given up entirely on my original dream of three -- I've just decided that I'm pretty much powerless to control fate.