Well today brings to a close month 8 of our fruitless attempts at babymaking. I knew last night that Aunt Flo would be here today and for the first time in months I didn't cry. Oh I came close, and I pouted a lot, by nary a tear fell. Which I like to think is progress. It helps that my hubs has this steadily sanguine attitude, that when I whine about wanting a baby he simply says, "I want one too." And when in my pessimism I tell Atticus (our cat) that if I don't have a baby we're getting another kitten and then he'll be second banana, the hubs goes a step further to say we'll also travel, have nice things, and keep our bodies looking hot longer. All while gently encouraging me to believe it will happen someday.
I think something else has helped me too - I've been spending the last couple weeks trying to be more positive. Not telling myself "this is gonna be the month" or anything (that would really set me up for disappointment), but rather thinking (and sometimes saying aloud) that my body is healthy, my organs aren't malfunctioning or broken, and that I can get pregnant. Being constantly pessimistic was really starting to bring me down, ya know? This morning I read someone's comment that if you stress over trying to get pregnant, your body will protect you from the added stress of actually getting pregnant and keep it from happening. I don't know whether that's true, but I like it. And it kind of hit home for me.
Anyway, onward and upward into next month!
