Dear Fertile, but Clueless Friend:
For the record, “trying” is actually not fun. When you think of trying to make a baby, you think of that giddy time when you
first start trying to conceive—when each time you had sex you knew that maybe, just maybe, a new life had begun. You remember or imagine that time when the excitement of possibility ran through you adding extra passion to every touch.
Yeah, we remember that time too. But we’re past it–way way past it.
We’re into the next phase of trying. When lovemaking is scheduled around body temps, cervical mucus, and ovulation predictor tests. Yeah, it’s about a romantic as it sounds. Sometimes we don’t even remember what it was like to look forward to making love.
We’re into the phase where fear of failure has replaced the excitement of possibility. Where we do everything possible to not let our hopes get too high so the disappointment isn’t too great.
We’re into the phase where we have to take a break from making love when “it doesn’t count” (when there is no possibility of conception). Yes, imagine that—we have to stop doing something that used to be one of the greatest ways we connected because it is now weighted with sadness.
We’re into the phase where there are doctors, shots, and prodding and poking.
We’re into the phase where we sometimes cry into our pillow or each other’s shoulders after we make love.
So, for the record, trying isn’t all that much fun.
Best wishes, Your Infertile Friend
Image credit: Miguel Ariel Contreras Drake-McLaughlin