TTC

I have gone back and forth on this post. Common knowledge says that you don't tell anyone when you're trying to conceive. Apparently it will force them to picture you having sex. Which, I've been living with my husband for over five years now. The only thing that really changed is that I stopped taking a pill every day and started taking my temperature instead. And then there's the chance that it will take a really long time to conceive, or that you won't be able to at all, and that the grief that comes with that really ought to be a private grief.

Which is not something I really believe, as you can see by the fact that I've decided to go ahead and post this. Part of it is that I'm definitely a member of the Facebook generation. Does life even happen if you don't post about it online? But a bigger part is that I feel like all this secrecy leads to a culture of ignorance and misinformation. No one will talk about it, so you end up having to do a whole lot of research on your own. And then try to sift out the bad information from the good information, which can be hard even if that is a skill you have. It all feels a little lonely and backwards - cutting off your support network in case you need them.

Not to mention the wealth of dietary and lifestyle changes that come into play when you start trying to conceive. Changes that you're supposed to hide along with the fact that you're trying to make a baby, even though that's impossible when it comes to the people who know you well. I can come up with an excuse to skip the odd happy hour with coworkers, but my close friends will notice when I'm opting for tea instead of wine at a party.

More than any of that, though, is that a lot of this is weird. And it sucks to not be able to talk about that. It's weird to suddenly flip the brain switch from "no pregnancy" to "please pregnancy". You react to your periods in a completely different way. The two weeks before your period become this intensely stressful time when all you can do is wait and you can't even have a damn beer to help you through it.

You start taking your temperature first thing every morning, because that's what everyone says to do. And there are apps built around this, that help you chart your temperature and determine your ovulation day and scan for early signs of pregnancy. And you wonder if this is maybe driving you a little crazy. Do you really need to take your temperature first thing every day? (YES YOU DO!) It's worst when you really have to pee, but you can't get out of bed until the thermometer beeps because you'll mess up your data. I got so paranoid that I wouldn't even let myself go to the bathroom if I woke up in the middle of the night, in case it messed up with my data, and I just lay there for hours trying not to think about how badly I had to pee until the clock ticked over to a reasonable time for me to take my temperature. It's supposed to happen at the same time every day, but I was really working with a 3-hour window. And twice so far I've just said screw it and threw out the data for that day.

And at the end of all that you end up with a chart that must be interpreted by experts. Is that temperature drop an "implantation dip", indicative of pregnancy, or does it mean the luteal phase is over? Did your temperature increase again because you're pregnant or because you slept in this morning. The truth is that all of this data is essentially useless without that one key piece of information - the pregnancy test. But it's another week before you can take one. In the meantime you've got the kind of cramps that you don't usually associate with PMS. Is it pregnancy, or did you eat some cheese and forget? Should you be paying closer attention to your cervical mucus. How?

Throughout all of this, you're alternating between scouring the internet for more information/reassurance, and avoiding it completely because people are crazy. And because some of the stories get to be too much. This woman has been trying unsuccessfully for a year now. This one has miscarried four times. This lesbian couple is on their third round of IVF, and how many more can they afford? Oh god, could it really take five years to have a kid? How much are you actually willing to invest in this?

You try to maintain an attitude of tempered hope. This will work, but it's okay if it doesn't. It's not the end of the world. There are options. So many options. Still, this will definitely work. And it won't take forever. And there won't be any complications. But if there are it's normal, and it doesn't necessarily mean anything. Until it does. But it's far too early in the process to be going this crazy over it all. Then again, obsessive planning is your default response, and more information is good. All knowledge is worth having, right? Except maybe knowledge about cervical mucus.

At the end of the day, writing is what gives me perspective. So I chose to write about this whole process and share it with all of you. If you don't want to read about it, you don't necessarily have to. But maybe someone will recognize themselves and know they aren't alone. Maybe one day I'll look back on this post and laugh at how obsessive I got. Maybe I will, somehow, become even more obsessive in the months to come. Who knows?

For now, I will just go with my gut and overshare. And if it takes forever to get pregnant, or if I miscarry the first one, well, I'll probably talk about that, too. I have a really hard time keeping my mouth shut when there's something I want to talk about. And this is the easiest place to spill.