Cycle 9, CD5

I’ve had a lot of breakthroughs over the past couple of days. All the anguish over trying to get pregnant is draining my already-low emotional reserves, and something has to change.

I asked my aunt how my cousins’ pregnant wives are doing the other day. It was hard for me to do it, but I did. One is due January 30 and having a boy (she has two girls already), the other is due March 5. Once again, they’re having children within a few weeks of each other. Of course, once I heard the dates, all I could think was “And I was due in April.” It would have been so perfect. Three little cousins, right in a row, just a few weeks apart. My heart hurt, I wanted to cry. I swallowed it and smiled and pretended I was happy.

That night, when I couldn’t sleep (as usual), it finally hit me. IT DOESN’T MATTER if my child is close in age to theirs. My nieces and nephew are 5, 4, 3, 3, 3, and almost 2. They ALL play together. Even my 9-year-old cousin plays with them. They’re KIDS. They love each other. No matter when I have a child, he or she will play with them. It’s how families work. And yes, most of my friends have had their babies, but some may have more, or I’ll make new friends with babies the same age as mine. I’m not on a time limit. It would have been nice, yes, but it doesn’t MATTER.

And suddenly the weight on my chest lifted, and I was relieved. I had been holding myself to this timeline without even meaning to, while even telling myself that I wasn’t, and it was crushing me. We will have a child. It will have cousins of varying ages. My sister will have a baby or two down the line that will be younger than my child. IT’S OKAY. It’s okay to have an only child that has older cousins. It will have younger ones too.

Also this weekend, hubby and I went shopping and I happened upon an adorable Pagan shop. I went inside and bought a fertility candle. Why not? It can’t hurt. I haven’t practiced religion in years, but the thought of lighting that candle made me so happy. Yesterday, I decided to set up an altar again. I dragged a table up two flights of stairs, I dug out all my old ritual supplies that have been packed for years, and I set up an altar in the corner of our bedroom. I lit some candles and incense, turned on my fertility meditation MP3, and sat there for half an hour. It felt so good to do something so familiar and comforting. I realized I’d been yearning for this kind of comfort again. I plan on meditating once a day at my altar if I can. I don’t need to do specific rituals or worship certain gods. I hate organized religion. I just want to feel spiritual and safe.


With these weights lifted, I hope our baby will come to us. I’m finally ready to move past the grief and anger and let our child come to us. And if it takes a little longer, that’s okay. I love our life. I love our lazy weekend mornings and shopping trips and movies and going out to eat. We have so much fun together. We have a good life. I’m not suffering while I wait for the last piece of our family to join us. I’m not going to suffer any more.

I told all of this to my therapist today and she was so proud of me. I didn’t cry once. I had only good things to say. I’m going to get through this. I have all the tools I need. I can do this.


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