I just got off the phone with my mom, after finally telling her about our hopes of getting pregnant and the stress I'm having over it. I share a lot with my mom usually--I've always gone to her when I'm distressed about something. These last few months of wanting to be pregnant and feeling so upset when I'm not have been so difficult to keep from her. I found myself snapping at her constantly and passing it off as general stress because I felt so burdened by my concealment of what was really troubling me.
So I'm really glad I talked to her about what's going on. She reassured me that there was nothing wrong and told me that it took over a year for her to get pregnant with me and with one of my sisters (though much less time with the other two). That after three months, it's absurd to think there could be a problem, and that I need to just (here's the dreaded word) relax.
Except she's right. I do need to relax, and I know that more than ever after last night. I'm putting so much pressure on my poor husband--unintentionally, but he feels the weight of my hopes and expectations nonetheless--that it's affecting his ability to "perform." Last night he couldn't finish. Nor could he this morning--the first time we've had a back-to-back like that.
I feel just terrible that he's psyching himself out like this, that he's absorbing the intensity of my desire to get pregnant and turning it into pressure on and recriminations against himself. He and I both need to learn how to deal with our anxiety and frustration around this issue.
We don't know when we'll get pregnant. We don't know if we'll get pregnant. All we know is that we will one day be parents-whether without help, through intervention, or through adoption. I have to keep reminding myself of that fact: this is not in my control. This is not something I can plan. This is something that comes as a gift, not a reward for effort, planning, and precision.