As a female in her later thirties, you think I would be used to getting my period by now. After all, it’s been happening for almost 25 years. Every fourth Wednesday at 3:30 pm it arrives. Clockwork.
When you’re trying to have a baby, however, feeling that first cramp is torment. It’s like an annoying game show host with flashing lights all around him giving you the double finger pistol saying, “you’re not pregnant” followed by the wha-wha sound-effect. Yesterday I was defeated. Again.
Hubs and I have been trying on and off for a few years. We have been pregnant – three times as a matter of fact. Unfortunately I haven’t carried to term. My last miscarriage was in September 2011, however, there was a silver lining. Yes, when you believe everything happens for a reason, pregnancy loss is included in that.
We were at the Ottawa Fertility Clinic for over a year. No concrete diagnosis. Just possibilities. So I jumped back on the horse cowboy err, well, you get the point. We tried again. And every fourth Wednesday at 3:30 that first cramp would hit. By September of last year I was completely deflated.
I needed a break. I needed control and to know what the outcome would be. So I pushed hubs way. Wouldn’t let him touch me. When his heavy arm would flop over me to spoon in the morning I would find some reason to move out of his embrace. Ahhhh, that may lead to something ya know! I couldn’t set myself up for another round of disappointment.
Fast forward a few months. I was ready to start trying. Again. The new year brought new beginnings. We had already booked a trip to Cuba and according to my mobile mom ovulation app we couldn’t have timed it better. But March came in like a lion and delivered its most ferocious roar on Wednesday at 3:30.
I am trying not to let this bring me down. I really, really, really am. I know the statistics: a woman my age has about a 15 – 20% chance of getting pregnant each month. When the hormones are raging it’s hard to remind yourself it’s only been a month…give it time. Maybe my body is just waiting to test Malcolm Gladwell’s iron law of Canadian hockey: in any elite group of hockey players – the very best of the best – 40 percent of the players will have been born between January and March. Cha-ching. Retirement plan.
As I write this post the new pooch looks at me through the glass and a smile crosses my face. I reflect on the day and am reminded how kickass my life is. Yes, even when I am sleep deprived because the same GD pooch only power naps and wants to play at all hours of the day and night I can recognize this. Like our neighbour Jamie, a stay-at-home furmom who comes over every day to let Lois out for a paw-date. And my mom who spent I don’t know how many hours this week editing some work I had rewritten 18 times when I couldn’t think clearly anymore. And my bestie who helped me find the way out of my head when I was lost in it. And hubs for doing more than his share trying to wear Lois out. And those are just today’s reminders.
It’s the little things that make my life so amazing. What makes yours amazing?