Confession time: last month’s grand plan didn’t go quite as …. planned. I did not achieve the ambitious #cycelgoals that I set for myself (shocking!). Not even close. I still drank too much caffeine and a lot of fake sugar. Despite my sternest directives of you will ignore those delicious bottles of wine staring at you as you get dressed*, I still indulged in more glasses than I probably should have.
I’ve just wrapped up another round of hormones and am waiting for my period to arrive. (Fun fact! Even though I am 99.999999999% sure that I did not even ovulate this month, today my brain took slight cramping, added that with my fatigue and a tiny bit of nausea, sprinkled in a dash of crashing hormones and VOILA! YOU MIGHT BE PREGNANT!!!11! OH EM GEE!!! U should totally pee on a stick tonight.) This is really and truly my last chance to ovulate on my own before I’m placed on ovulation inducing meds. Now, more than ever before, I have that nagging, special type of guilt: TTC guilt.
What is TTC guilt, you ask? It’s that annoying whisper, in the back of my head, that tells me if you really wanted a baby, you would be able to go a month without diet soda or if you truly wanted to give Luffy a child, it would be an easy choice to drop alcohol for a month. So many small chastisements that ultimately boil down to: if you really want a baby, you should try harder and this past failed year is completely your own fault.
Some days, it’s easier to sweep that guilt out the window. As discussed before, I’m a very healthy person and two of my only vices are diet sodas and wine. I doubt very much that cutting out diet soda and wine would suddenly snap my body out of whatever anti-ovulation funk it’s in currently and produce a healthy, viable egg this month. I take a lot of steps to ensure that my body is healthy and ready for a baby, including supplements, vitamins, whole fat dairy, and plenty of water, rest, and exercise. Sodas and wine are not agents for the devil.
And other days, it’s a little harder. Why shouldn’t I be willing to drop my vices cold turkey? I really want a baby right? Why is it so hard to quit the bad habits that might be keeping that delectable baby out of my arms? I mean, I say that I’m making all of these sacrifices to keep up a “fertile” body, but honestly most of these things are stuff I already do. I’m not really trying that hard. Surely I could try harder. Be better.
I think a lot of this stems from something I touched on when discussing Belle Neurosis #2: I impose a lot of pressure on myself to be perfect. I’ve always naturally excelled at classes or hobbies. Those that I didn’t excel in, I dropped or I worked my ass off to turn my performance around. (A slightly braggy, yet on-topic example: in my first undergrad finance class, the professor very clearly said the test would be completely covered by his practice handout. I took this to mean exactly like the handout and was positively mortified as I sat through the first test and realized that I was woefully under-prepared. In tears, I announced to my mom that I had failed the test as soon as I got out. I ended up with a 68 (which, to me, was failing). So for the next test, I buckled down, studied until I could literally study no more, and came out with a fucking 104. I got every single question right, including the two bonus questions. drops mic. spikes football. does victory dance complete with pom poms and outfit. attempts celebratory cartwheel. injures self on celebratory cartwheel. puts cartwheels on list of things-to-never-attempt-again-OMG) In other words, I’m not used to not doing well and I’m especially not used to not being able to fix things I’m not doing well.
With most things in life, there are steps you can take to sort out a problem. No electricity at the house – call the utility company and then an electrician. Car not working – have it towed to the shop. Brother stops talking to you after fight – buy tickets to a baseball game and apologize profusely. If you want to get to C, you can start at A and travel through B. Or, perhaps, if B is blocked, you can reverse course and travel through Z and Y and X and W… you get my point. There are things you can do. And there are not any things I can do right now, nothing more than I’m already doing. Nothing more except waiting and hoping and waiting some more. And trying to hush the guilt.
*There is wine in my closet because you are supposed to store it in a cool, dark place and that was the only place that I could think of when I got my shipment in. So now it taunts me every evening when I take off my work clothes – all delicious and pretty.