The beginning is always the hardest.  How do you start something?  As a teacher, I get kids to draw a picture before they begin their writing to try to get the ideas flowing.  This is my verbal picture, I guess.

So officially or unofficially, we started “trying” in December.  I never understood that baby-making could be a conscious thing until this stage of my life.  I thought everyone was a mistake (some happier mistakes than others), and couldn’t wrap my head around the idea of planning for a baby.  That didn’t make any sense.  I get it now.

I also get the idea of a biological clock.  For me, it was like something just switched on.  I went from living a very normal baby-free existence to suddenly being aware of everything involved in tiny people.  I noticed sales in our weekly flyers on baby stuff, I noticed pregnant people on TV and in the street, I started actually listening to people when they talked about their kids.  The biggest change, though, was that I felt ready (or as ready as one can feel, I guess).  Nothing significant in my life had changed, yet suddenly my whole mindset changed.  Babies seemed good, and I wanted one.

I don’t know what it was like for others, but the first time we “tried” was like this momentous occasion, and I remember making an effort to try to keep every moment in a safe part of my memory for posterity.  Had I known it wasn’t quite as simple as “Aaaaaaaaaaand…now you’re pregnant”, I’m not sure the whole experience would have seemed quite so monumental.  I had heard from lots of people that “it takes a while”, “start soon, because it doesn’t happen right away”, and “it took us almost a year”.  I didn’t believe that would be me, though.  I’ve got birthing hips.  What kind of a sick joke would it be if they didn’t actually serve a purpose?  I figured that years of ill-fitting pants would surely have to warrant some crazy super fertility power or something…right?

Well, I can tell you now that we’re nearly into month 4, and while I know that’s not a long time by most people’s standards, I feel kind of cheated.  All those years of being so freaked out by the possibility of being pregnant in my youth…if I had only known actually creating a baby is a truly miraculous thing, maybe I could have chilled out a bit.  We’re not hardcore into it yet, and by that I mean no one is taking any temperatures or becoming skilled in the fine art of mucous analysis.  I used an ovulation calculator on line the other day.  That’s a step in the right direction, and a sign of more serious “trying” than before.  Part of me thought taking the relaxed “if it happens, it happens” route would just lead us into babyhood, but I should have known.  I am a researcher.  I like to know about things, and I like to know what I’m supposed to be doing before I do it.  My body knows that before I undergo any major changes, I have to feel like I’ve prepared somehow.

So I bought a book.  “Body, Soul, and Baby”.  My first baby book.  And I don’t even have a baby.  The funny part is that I bought it during my period.  How much more non-baby could I have been?  I felt weird bringing it up to the counter, feeling a bit like an impostor.  I wondered what the reaction of the salesperson would be.  Would they ask me questions about “the baby”?  Would they smile a little bit, like we were sharing a secret?  I was nervous.  How would I explain I wasn’t actually with child, I just needed to know what to do before it happened?

Welcome to my mind.  It is an incredibly egocentric place where I truly believe people pay this much attention to me.

The salesperson was a guy.  He seemed more interested in the sudoku puzzle book I was also purchasing.  I was being ridiculous.

I left the book in my bag during my subway ride home, deciding instead to spend my time with the aforementioned sudoku book.  Once I got home, I started to read.  I had purposely chosen a book that would carry me through the 3 stages of pregnancy: pre-pregnancy, pregnancy, and post-pregnancy.  The intro to the book celebrated the amazing adventure upon which I was embarking, and the opportunity that lay before me.  While reading it, I felt anxious–what if carrying a baby wasn’t in the cards for me?  Maybe the fact that I wasn’t pregnant already was a sign that I wold never be?  I tried not to bend the spine of the book too much, in case I had to bring it back due to rotten eggs or an inhospitable womb.  I imagined trying to explain that to my indifferent salesperson without weeping like a lunatic.

I threw the book on the bed and carried on with my day.  I kept thinking about it sitting up there, and wondered if I should move it.  I imagined J coming home to see it and thinking I was pregnant.  He seemed disappointed enough when our first try “didn’t take”, as he put it.  He was half-joking, but I could sense some genuine sadness.

He came home, life went on, as it continues to go on today.  My active steps are as follows:

  • calculated fertile days for March, April, and May
  • added these days as “*” events in Blackberry (all-day events, fyi)
  • researched fertility diets
  • printed sample menu plans, wrote out some recipes
  • including fruits and veg at every meal (should have been doing this before, but that’s beside the point)
  • bought a book
  • oh, and the big one…”trying”…frequently…

The last active step is sort of key.  I’ll keep you posted on how things progress.

-Regular Van.