Well, today has been quite a day. Actually it’s been quite a week. Good and bad. I’ll start with the good!
Husband and I went to the doctor’s office today and received my prescriptions for Clomid and Provera. Our season of baby making has begun! The Provera will cause menstruation—if my body refuses to do so within a certain number of days—and the Clomid will cause me to ovulate! Yay! The doctor is hopeful that this medication will work, and I’m hanging on to everyone’s assuredness. I’m excited! I’m scared. I’m ready, impatient … let’s have a baby already!
Bad news: we got into a pretty bad argument this week. An argument mostly involving my resentful feelings toward waiting to physically birth a child until after the Bar exam. We had agreed on this—four months ago—but upon calculating (again) possible due dates based on possible menstruation, ovulation, conception (bluh), it came to my attention that we needed to wait longer …. for the stupid Bar exam.
Can you tell I’m suffering 3L-itis, and I ain’t even the one in LAW SCHOOL. Just a spouse—an increasingly impatient, resentful spouse.
But then the doctor said, “Okay. First: Stop calculating. You’ll drive yourself crazy.” Oh, let me tell you: I’ve already done that. So, no more calculating—which means we get to start this month … which means I get what I want. But, I don’t feel good about that. I am remorseful for the things I said, remorseful for my attitude. I know he forgives me, but—wow—crappy last couple of days.
I have come to realize that you cannot anticipate a special day for months and months … and months … and … (you get the idea) and expect it to be what you have been anticipating. No more waiting! No more planning! If I have to take Provera for five days beginning on day 30 of my cycle (upon the failure of my menstruation’s arrival), then take Clomid for five days beginning on day 5 of my new cycle, and then get busy on days 10, 12 and 14 … I am no longer making plans, arrangements, schedules … for anything. I’m just going to do my best with every day God gives me.
Next week I cross off an item on my nonofficial bucket list: 26.2 miles.
Thank you, Heavenly Father, for running.
Trials of Miles. Miles of Trials.
I feel like a new woman … I’m going to be a mama.