How (Not) to Talk to a Woman Trying To Conceive

   So here's the thing. The thing that I have been avoiding writing about. Talking about. Even thinking about when possible, because if I don't it entirely takes over my mind for days, weeks... months. I haven't shared it with most people because, well, it's awkward. Or at least it is to me. But the fact of the matter is that we, my husband and I, are trying to get pregnant with a second child. I didn't want to announce it because I knew there would be interest, questions, inquiries as to "how it's going" and I really didn't think I could bear it. I still am not quite sure... but I do know that as a writer it is best to write what you know, and all my heart and mind know right now revolves around the raw emotions, hopes and fears relating to trying to conceive. Or TTC if you frequently Google possible pregnancy symptoms, which I do. On the regular.

   This whole endeavor is a wild rollercoaster ride of elation, nervousness, longing and despondency. Add to that the prospect of parents, in-laws and acquaintances asking innocent, well-meaning, but still somehow prodding personal questions about what ultimately is your sex life, and you can understand why the whole thing makes me want to vomit. Which in turn makes me wonder if my nausea could in fact be a symptom... a sign, that maybe, just maybe this is our month. All this melodrama is a bit much for me to take. And so I kept it as quiet as I could for as long as I could, but the thing is, these are the things I love to read about. People transparently opening up their hearts for others to read. Things that you know were painful to write. That and at this point it's about time I reached out for support. Step out of lurkerdom and joined the ranks of TTC women on the internet sharing their stories. Being a part of the community instead of just observing it from the sidelines. Use my keyboard for more than incessant search engine inquiries. 

   Where we're at is this; we spent three months "not trying not to" get pregnant. The first month I was disappointed when my most unwelcome monthly visitor (AF) knocked on my proverbial door, but mostly it was because the two week wait makes you crazy and I didn't look forward to another one. The next month same deal but this time my motivations shifted slightly more in favor of actually wanting a pregnancy for the sake of you know, having a child (not that I hadn't the month before, we were both just a tad gun-shy with the whole toddler tearing our house apart thing going on) but my main gripe was just hating the "Am I or Aren't I?" head trip. The third month I was tired of feeling like a lunatic for two weeks but I had finally come around to wholehearted excitement over the notion of a positive pregnancy test. No more trepidation, no more feeling like it was still a bit soon, just outright desire for the little pink plus sign (or BFP as it's referred to in this 'circle' which of course stands for Big Fat Positive... Duh). After all of that back and forth we had a discussion and agreed that we were on the same page. It was time to actually, you know, try.

   All signs were pointing to a positive until this morning when a new "symptom" appeared.... one that historically has always been an indicator that Aunt Flow's train had departed the station and would be at the arrival gate within a few days... so, ya, TMI I am sure, but how many euphemisms can I use before I start to get graphic here? Anyway... I had a good cry, one very large cup of hot chocolate, which if you follow me on Twitter unfortunately is not quite as good for you as water, yet, despite my deepest desires. Then I took the two year old up to bed for his nap, sat my butt down and began to type this. This appeal for understanding, grace and possibly even some prayers on our behalf if you would be so kind.

 Photo (from my 1st pregnancy) by A.J. Olson

   So if I refuse the coffee you offer  me or don't take you up on that really tasty looking beer please think back to this post and feel free to give me your best knowing look, even a gentle nudge, shoulder grab or hug if you feel so inclined... but if you can, kindly bite your tongue when those pesky questions inevitably try to make their way up your throat... because you just might have a mini recap of this morning's cryfest on your hands if you don't.

NOTE: I'm not always an emotional mess so if you're a fan of jumping through hoops for a little conversation or are just that curious you are welcome to ask if you can ask... I know tedious, but I am only recommending it for your own good. Promise.

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