Resistance is futile

I have always been a little controlling. See, I can admit it. I like to be in control of my life. I don't try to be controlling of anything or anyone else, but my life is broad-reaching so whatever gets in the way sometimes is at risk of falling victim to this tendency of mine. And it's kind of a neurotic tendency because if I'm unable to be in control of my circumstances, I freak out. I stress out. It has even gotten to the point where it interferes with my health. There are times that I have a meltdown, or at least a panic attack. I have actually had a full blown, lying on the floor, can't breathe, feel like I'm having a heart attack, panic attack. It was my first week of law school. But I digress.

My angst over The Wait is borne, I think, of my determination to control my own destiny. I am resisting The Wait in every way possible. I am resisting trusting my doctors because I know that they can't be perfectly sure of anything. I mean look what a fuss I made over one or two months! Clearly I made such a small issue into such a monumental one just to justify to myself doing things how I want to do them and not how I was told by someone else to do them. I am resisting my friends becoming mothers, sometimes twice, while I wait (and wait) to have a new start. I am resisting not having a child, right now(!) because I can't understand why it should be this difficult and painful and unfair. So I resist it. And resistance is causing me to have random bouts of tears and a lot of anxiety and to not show enough appreciation for DH and to distance myself from friends and to waste this time that I've been given on the earth. I should enjoy The Wait. I'm sure there will come a time in motherhood when I would give almost anything to just take a 6 month break. Actually that's not true. I would probably never want that. But maybe a month... And there is plenty I can do with the time. And yet I continue to worry and stew and hem and haw and justify and argue with myself and my doctors because I want to be able to control what has happened. I want to be all-knowing so I do research. And I demand answers that no one has. And I keep looking. But no amount of this will enable me to control anything. And that is what I need to learn to accept. And maybe that is what this experience was meant to do. To teach me to let go. I'm not religious, but if I were (and I do wish I were), I'd be convinced of this. As it happens, feeling like it's just dumb luck frustrates me all the more. Let it go.

Ok, maybe this will help...

Good things about The Wait:

• I always said I didn't want to be pregnant during the holidays.....so I can drink.
  
  
• I NEED to make a dentist appointment, with x-rays, and will probably need fillings, with novocain, so this is a golden opportunity.



• I can use these months to determine, probably to an exact science, on which cycle day I ovulate.



• I can use these months to become healthy enough to support a healthy pregnancy



• I need to finish the billable year strong and right now, not being pg and not being in beta hell, there are minimal other worries.



• We can still start trying (knock on wood) before our one year wedding anniversary, so we're not so far behind where we 'should' be in life.
  

I got a pocket calendar in the mail yesterday from a nonprofit I sometimes donate to. The first thing I did was to check the dates it covered because I wanted it SO badly to be a 2010 calendar. I was SO hoping to get a third party opinion that 2010 was just around the corner. It would have made me feel so much better. And it was 2009-2010. So that was close. But then I hated myself for wishing away all this time. Every day is a gift. And I have so much to be happy about. I don't want to wake up in ten years, and have nothing but pain and anger and jealousy and wanting for memories.

So I have more resolve than I did a couple days ago. Query whether this will last through the holiday weekend. DH and I are going to my parents'. And our friends - with their 11 month old - will be joining us. These are the friends that offered me their pregnancy books last time we got together. But they are relatively safe for me to be around. They got married two years before me and DH, they're older than us by a couple years, and it took them a while to conceive. And they started trying WAY before us. So somehow, in my twisted jealous bitter mind, they deserve their happiness. I am happy for them. I am not so worried about hanging out with their baby. I don't want their baby (though he's endless fun). I want my own. What I am bracing for is the running commentary about babies from this couple and my parents, everyone feeding off of each other. And the questions and implications about when are DH and I going to have a baby. They've already proven they're not above suggesting pregnancy literature to us. So I can't wait to see what's next. But almost sadder than that is the realization that one day the prodding will stop. One day people might conclude on their own that we're having trouble, whether we tell them or not. And they might stop asking and joking and implying. And then it will be so official. I will feel like I'm branded - infertile. Unhealthy. Unfit. Genetically unsound. And that might be worse than the sting I feel when they do suggest that DH and I should get to making babies. The idea that they've given up. That they know. The pity. That might be worse.