First, I do have a post in the works regarding the completely UNBELIEVABLE fact that Sweetness turned 1 last week. But that’s not what I want to blog about today.
Here’s my confession. Since my period returned in the end of June (right when I went to nursing only morning and night), I’ve been unable to NOT notice when I might be ovulating and unable to NOT try to time things. It’s a sickness really, a disease. And of course, I haven’t been shocked my period does arrive, right on schedule. Why would I set myself up for this? After 2+ years of unprotected, perfectly timed sex resulted in nothing, you think I would have figured out not to get my hopes up.
What really gets me is that we found a GREAT house the other day. Liked it so much that we went to the open house today. It is almost my dream house. Front porch, nice back yard, tons of storage in the basement, eat in kitchen, etc, etc. And I’m tired of our house. I feel like it is getting smaller by the minute but mostly I’m tired of townhouse living, of hearing my neighbors sneeze. On one side this 60 year old guy plays his war video games so loud, I worry Sweetness is going to grow up thinking she’s in a war zone. I’d like to not have the police at my pothead, juvenile delinquent’s house on a weekly basis (especially since that does not stop him from dealing all day long). I want a drive way…and a back yard with a playset…and a front porch with rocking chairs where I can have a glass of wine at the end of the day.
We could swing it, it’d be tight because I don’t think we’d get as much for our current house as we’d like. But we could make the payments. What is stopping us then?? Our Player To Be Named Later. We’re starting to think about another baby. Not seriously because sleeping through the night has become a precious commodity. But we’re at the point where we are now thinking about it. And we don’t know what it will cost us. We could get lucky and only need to spend about 4000 like we did with Sweetness or we could be looking at 20000 or more. And that makes me mad, down right angry even. And then I get all “It’s not fair, woe is me, my life sucks”. And I know that’s pathetic and my life is wonderful but it still isn’t fair. Because IF has taken the whole “white picket fence, house in the burbs with 2.2 kids” and slashed it. It’s almost like I can have one or the other.
I know others have said it as well but I want to have a bottle of wine with my hubby and then be surprised 2 weeks later when I’m pregnant. I want to not worry if, with each passing cycle, my eggs are turning more and more to shit. I want to not think about insurance, referrals, HSG, ultrasounds, nurses, blood draws, medication, injections, hot flashes, and failure. God, the failure. Part of me doesn’t know if I’ll ever be ready to deal with all that again. It was such a dark, dark time where I hated myself. And I don’t buy the “you’re so young line’ anymore. First off, being young didn’t help me too much in the beginning. I was 28 when we started trying, 31 when Sweetness was born. If we do decide to head back to the doctor’s this spring, I’ll be 32 almost 33. Times awasting.
I guess I just want it all…is that so bad???