By: Lex Jacobson
We have moved onto our second-choice donor, who thankfully has become our first choice. I will know in a week whether I’m pregnant or not. I’ve managed to hold onto the vacation vibe, and I’m blissfully nonchalant about the whole thing. So far.
It’s the wonderful moments when I open a beer and suddenly realize that I can’t drink it, or when I almost buy a bridesmaid dress online for my best friend’s wedding that I may not be able to fit in once the time comes. I love this feeling far more than the constant questioning of imaginary symptoms and daydreaming about big bellies and nurseries.
Whether I feel good about my chances, I don’t know. I am a strong believer in positive thinking, but my last negative pregnancy test result made me realize that no matter how much I believe, there is another plan for me.
One of my fellow bloggers/readers from my personal blog started trying to conceive at the exact same time that we started. We actually had our first inseminations just a few days apart. She is in her late 30s and is now entering her second trimester. And yet another blogger friend, who is in her 20s and has just given birth to a beautiful child, did so after three years of trying to conceive. There is no rhyme or reason.
It is going to happen when it is going to happen.
That’s a mantra that I keep having to remind myself of, and it is not an easy one to always believe in. Sometimes the phrase feels condescending and makes me feel a little bit resentful. Angry, sometimes. It can sound like a cop-out. And seriously, what does it actually mean?
Of course it’s going to happen when it is going to happen. When else would it happen?
The English language has always been a love of mine, but it often falls short.