Since the summer started, I have been exercising in the morning. I like to think—how ever productive or not I am that day—that I am accomplishing something right from the start. What better than that “something” to be exercise? My exercise
mostly involves running, and I have always ran with my iPod. In the early mornings, though, I like to allow for a quiet run. I feel as if music is somewhat exhausting during my morning runs. This leads me to miles and miles by myself with my own thoughts. It’s pretty therapeutic. It’s amazing actually—until my thoughts inevitably involve one topic. Lately, I have been trying to convince myself—through logic—that I will get pregnant, and it’ll happen with Clomid. I mean, it is logical to come up with such a conclusion, right? But, I am a woman, and when it comes to my emotions, logic doesn’t matter. That’s the battle, though! My mind only knows one thing: not pregnant; nope, not this time. I can’t monitor my body; I cannot see what is going on: “Oh! Look, there’s the little egg, and sperm #580,945 is winning the race. He’s almost there! He’s … almost … there … !!!” I just have to have FAITH!!!! I have to get over my control issues. Unfortunately, that is what it comes down to: control. I cannot control a darn thing. I can be faithful with the tools God has blessed me with and do my very best—give it 110 percent. But, I can’t control anything, and it sucks. I mean, I could: purchase ovulation predictor kits (even though my ovulation occurs on a fairly controlled schedule and OPKs would tell me what I already know); take my friggin’ temperature every single morning; drag my husband to the “sperm evaluation headquarters of baby-making” and worry about a nonexistent issue—just for the sake of worrying; hold my legs up for two hours afterward (slight exaggeration); not have a drink or two to wind down every once in a while; not exercise during ovulation, because … I’m drawing a blank; basically stop living. I could take control; I could calculate and evaluate the heck out of every single thing. But I cannot control the moment of conception. Nothing I do or don’t do can change what will happen. And that, ladies and gentlemen, drive me a-b-s-o-l-u-t-e-l-y insane. And all the while, do you know what really gets to me—what really just frustrates the heck out of me? Oh, just this nonchalant, beyond obvious statement: “Don’t stress about it. Stress only makes it worse. Don’t worry. Stress and anxiety aren’t healthy when you’re trying to get pregnant.” Huh. Really? Well, guess what? It’s all I ever think about!!!
Today is my ten-month marriage anniversary. Did we celebrate? We most certainly did … I mean it is day 16. 😉