Operation Chill the F Out

I made the call.
I called my obgyn and admitted to the receptionist that I need help.
It was a very depressing and humbling phone call to make, seeing as I have always been one to take the stubborn route and do things on my own.

I am trying to make the best of the situation but it's difficult.
It's scary to think how much worse it could really be and to what length I would go to to have a perfect little baby of my own.

I try to rationalize that so many other women out there have had it worse. 

They are struggling right now. 

Or have been for years. 

Or maybe don't have an option to have kids but desperately want to.
And their struggles make mine so much more insignificant.

But, see, sometimes it's okay to have my moment too.
Sometimes it's okay to have a pity party for one and get it all out.

And by "get it all out" I mean freak out on my husband because he didn't turn the lights off because it was the "straw that broke the camels back" because I have been trying to play it cool and not let all these emotions get the best of me.

I lost, by the way.

Big time, and by the time I was done throwing, HANDS DOWN, the biggest hissy fit of my life.....crumpled in a pile of tears and gave up. 

I can't do it anymore.

I can't act like it's okay that it's not working.

I need to be able to openly talk to Bayou because I honestly don't want answers.

Or a solution.

Or help.

I just need to vent.

Without judgement.

Or this happens.

And it's not fair to me and it's not fair to him.

And he told me something so blatantly honest, so simple, so ridiculously truthful that I couldn't help but be quiet.

And listen.

He told me that he is scared.

He doesn't know how we are going to do it.

Sometimes he doesn't want kids, but most of the time...he is all for it. He really is. 

I honestly never thought I would hear that before I was pregnant.

I always felt like I had to be pregnant before he thought it was real and he accepted it.

Or maybe it wouldn't be until the baby came.

But he told me it won't happen if I am stressing out all the time about making it happen.

And DUH....I seriously know that.

But hearing it from him made it so much more real.

 I have been diligently collecting as much data here and there to be able to relay as much information as I know about myself and our situation to, hopefully, take a lot of the guesswork out of our problems.

I feel like I need to be prepared.

I should probably just chalk up this next cycle as a miss and try, really really try, to relax.
It's hard when my life literally revolves around planning things and coordinating everything.
It's not like I don't know where I am at with my cycle.
Or when the last time was we had sex.
Or when I can expect my period.
I always know.

I really wish sometimes I could be aloof and not really know these things. Might make the whole trying to conceive process more enjoyable.

But here I am.
An eternity away from that first appointment.
Christmas marks one year of failing.
And a year and a half of coming to the realization that I actually want to have kids.
Every cycle I think about what seasons I would be pregnant for.
What I would wear.
How we could announce it to our families.
How we could celebrate the babies birthday.
What type of mom I might be.
(A really fucking sassy one. But you already knew that)

Now I just wonder what my doctor is going to tell me.

What new hurdles do we have to jump to make it work.
How much longer.

What I do have on my side this month is a packed schedule to keep me busy until that dreaded appointment.

And these types of situations to make sure it's never boring.

 

I'll keep you posted.

TBag. Out.