So J and I have decided that since we are decent enough parents, we should have a second child. Why raise just one, and why deprive Magnus of a sibling that he can torture, manipulate and steal toys from? Why not go through another year of no sleep?
Conceiving Magnus was frighteningly easy. It was literally two attempts. Sadly, our efforts to replicate that record have been thwarted. Just when I think we've managed to achieve goal, Aunt Flo shows up. Which has caused me to completely freak out, start drinking flax seed oil and ban poor J from the jacuzzi.
Mother Nature is an odd thing. Once we declared we'd like to have a second child, my cycle became highly unpredictable. Now I don't have a good handle on when Aunt Flo comes each month. My doctor, who is probably now sick of seeing me and my insides every other month, doesn't want to take any drastic measures because he is not convinced there's a problem.
Trying to convince me of that, well, that's a whole other story.
Now, after attempting conception for four months, I am distracted all the time. In meetings, my mind starts to wander and I end up thinking about my uterus. In traffic, I think about the drug Clomid (in bad traffic, I spell it out.) After we put Mags to bed, J and I sit on the couch and I tell him about all the fertility statistics I looked up earlier that day.
Patience is not something I am known for. With every period that comes, my impatience only grows. I wish I could remember the great lesson life taught me when my first marriage fell apart and the world seemed like it was ending: everything is for a reason, everything has its own timing, and you are in charge of none of it.
Blaaarh!!
Conceiving Magnus was frighteningly easy. It was literally two attempts. Sadly, our efforts to replicate that record have been thwarted. Just when I think we've managed to achieve goal, Aunt Flo shows up. Which has caused me to completely freak out, start drinking flax seed oil and ban poor J from the jacuzzi.
Mother Nature is an odd thing. Once we declared we'd like to have a second child, my cycle became highly unpredictable. Now I don't have a good handle on when Aunt Flo comes each month. My doctor, who is probably now sick of seeing me and my insides every other month, doesn't want to take any drastic measures because he is not convinced there's a problem.
Trying to convince me of that, well, that's a whole other story.
Now, after attempting conception for four months, I am distracted all the time. In meetings, my mind starts to wander and I end up thinking about my uterus. In traffic, I think about the drug Clomid (in bad traffic, I spell it out.) After we put Mags to bed, J and I sit on the couch and I tell him about all the fertility statistics I looked up earlier that day.
Patience is not something I am known for. With every period that comes, my impatience only grows. I wish I could remember the great lesson life taught me when my first marriage fell apart and the world seemed like it was ending: everything is for a reason, everything has its own timing, and you are in charge of none of it.
Blaaarh!!
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