It has been a busy week, so Tuesday I did not have the opportunity to write. Tuesday, 9/28, was the second anniversary of my first day off birth control. We had officially started trying to conceive.
Growing up and thinking about when I would start a family I never thought that it would have turned out like this. When we started ttc in 2008, part of me just knew it wasn't going to happen right away. I'd learned a bit more about the process, my cycle was really off, I was spending entirely too much time on BOTB. Part of me just knew. Did I think I would be sitting here two years later without the least bit of success? No. That I could not have anticipated.
I am such a different person now than I was two years ago. Whether that has prepared me more, or less, for parenthood I guess we'll never know. I've written previously about missing my naivety and this week that is especially true. I distinctly remember sitting on the couch with J and talking about deciding to try. We'd just been married in July and said then that we would wait until the new year and see how it went. But, we were ready. 'What good will waiting 3 more months do?' So our journey began. We were so very excited. Giddy even. I was going to bake a blond haired, blue eyed baby. Mine. His. The excitement was in the air. It was difficult to go to baby showers (there were a lot of them that year) and not shout 'We're trying too!!' Boy am I glad I didn't...
Fast forward two years and we're on our first real break. Not just a 'I'm taking this month off for a deep breath', but the I want nothing to do with baby-talk for the next few months. I need to find me again. J and I are just as strong as ever. We still hold hands in the grocery store and snuggle as we fall asleep at night. We're good, really good in fact. It's me that is off.
I talked to J last night and I've decided to start seeing a therapist. Mrs.S has some issues (like all of a sudden talking in 3rd person) and they need to be worked through. Dealing with infertility is a huge part of that. Stress at work (I now do 2.5 peoples jobs with little to no support). My weight (I hate you PCOS) is another. If I am super careful about what I eat I can maintain, but the second I step out of line, I gain. To the tune of 10lbs this summer, most of which was gained the later part of August and September - after I stopped taking meds. When I get home in the evenings I can barely leave the couch. I have no motivation to do much of anything. I get these random burst of energy, but that still leaves my house a disaster. It's time I take my own advice and seek the guidance of a professional. We'll see how that goes, I'll report back.
Two years later and I'm a little more grown up, a lot more jaded, and I'm ready to look for help. I just can't do it all on my own.