Something has changed.
Last year, when Luffy and I tossed the birth control pills, I was excited. Luffy wanted children. I did too, don’t get me wrong, but mainly I think I looked forward to something new and different. I looked forward to being pregnant and special (I know, I roll my eyes at me too, but I’m just being honest with you guys). Much in the same way that an excited bride-to-be looks forward to her wedding without really thinking about the whole marriage part afterwards, I looked forward to babies.
When I thought about us trying to conceive, I thought about hazy pictures of my pregnant belly or giving birth or holding a squalling newborn. I thought about positive pregnancy tests and ultrasounds and baby showers. Whenever I thought about our label of “trying to conceive,” I always thought about it in terms of the pregnancy.
But not anymore. Something has been changing over the past few weeks and culminated over the weekend. I’m not really sure what triggered it. We were in Mexico, but we saw plenty of vacationing Asian families, many with adorable babies and toddlers in tow. Perhaps it was being with several of our friends who are still primarily concerned with partying and realizing that I’m mostly over that. Perhaps it was just some internal clock that finally struck the fabled stroke of midnight.
Whatever happened, something’s changed. Now, whenever I peer into our future, it’s not the pregnancy I’m focused on, it’s the child. The adorable little half-Caucasian, half-Chinese baby that will be ours. The precious toddler and brilliant child. I’m impatient to hold our baby and am irrationally upset that, even if we were to get pregnant TODAY, I would still have to wait 40 weeks to meet our little dumpling.
As we thought, I’ll have to rely on progesterone again this cycle. I was scheduled to begin this round on Saturday, while we were in Cancun. I figured I’d start it Sunday when we got back, only a day behind, not bad. I (unfortunately) decided to pick up my medication on Sunday, rather than picking it up before we left town. The pharmacy closed earlier than I thought it did and I missed the deadline. I was upset, but Luffy talked me down, pointing out that I could pick it up the next day. Only two days behind now. Of course, the next day was Labor Day and even though I thought pharmacies hardly ever closed (I mean, it’s medication people! kind of important), the pharmacy that I use was closed. I had to push back starting my medication to Tuesday, which meant that I was a full three days behind schedule. Obviously, three days isn’t a lot in the grand scheme of things, but with my new-found impatience, it’s agonizing.
Even more surprisingly, I’m impatient with work. I’ve always thought that I would ideally like to be a mom who works part-time, a sort of best-of-both-worlds approach. Stay home with our children most of the time, work from home (or even from an office) part time. That’s been my plan for a while. And yet, with this flip of the switch, I’m not even sure I want that; it seems like a distraction from my true goals. I looked around the conference table during a meeting this morning and was overcome with the feeling that I don’t belong here. I belong at home with our babies. My purpose in life is to raise our children, not sit here listening to partners talk about the decline of equity markets and when the next bubble might pop.
Impatience. I’m ready for the next phase of our life to begin, even if my body isn’t quite cooperating yet. Cheers to another round of hormones; maybe we’ll have better luck next cycle.