It felt like a huge decision to stop taking the pill last February after just 6 months of marriage. Before I did, I devoured statistics about what the odds were, when it would be likely to happen. What to expect.
Overwhelmingly, the internet told me that at my age I had a 90% chance of conceiving within a year, and a 25% chance of conceiving in 3 months.
3 months??!! I didn't feel ready. We'd decided weeks ago I would stop taking them. In a moment of stress, I brought my pills along anyway when we went away for the weekend.
After a few days of thinking about it, I took a deep breath and threw them away at the hotel. I still didn't feel completely ready, but I don't think anyone ever does.
It didn't happen the first 3 months. Every month, the week before my period was a roller coaster of emotions. Nerves, fear, and the excitement of not knowing what would happen. Were our lives about to change forever?
Gradually, the nerves and fear lessened. The excitement increased. I got more used to the idea. Slight relief at the arrival of my period slowly morphed into slight disappointment.
It's next to impossible to not read too much into "symptoms." Some of it might have been in my head, but mostly it's just that symptoms the week before your period are the same as the most common "early pregnancy symptoms" according to my good friend Google.
Not every month, but probably more often than not I've felt that annoying little ray of hope that I felt different and it was possible.
I would find myself daydreaming about how and when we would tell our families, about names, about having a baby around for the holidays.
After a few days of hope, it wouldn't happen and life would go back to normal until next month's emotional roller coaster.
After 6 months, the nerves returned, but for a different reason. Was there something wrong with me? I brushed off that feeling, because statistically we were still normal. It had only been a few months. We continued to enjoy our carefree newlywed life of constant traveling.
In September, I was 2 days late. That is very rare for me. I let myself hope. I thought about the perfect timing of it being our first anniversary, of being able to break the news to everyone on Christmas. Google let me know that if it was true, the due date would be the 4th of July- my husband's favorite holiday.
That hope and those thoughts came to an end the next day.
3 months and 3 periods later, I finally told my mom in tears. I hadn't wanted her to know because I didn't want her to worry. She struggled with infertility herself and has always been afraid that my sister or I would too.
I started taking vitamins. We made plans to see a doctor and get tests done a few months from now when we make the move back to America. It feels good to have a plan, but it's scary that we need one.
I don't know yet if there is a problem. This week we hit the one year mark of not preventing a baby. We are officially in the 10% and not the 90%.
There could be absolutely nothing wrong. There could be something wrong with one or both of us. It could be something easily fixable or not so much. We could have a long struggle ahead of us, or who knows... I could be pregnant now.
It has started to hurt a little when other people get pregnant. The story in the State of the Union about the pregnant homeless heroin addict hit me. Why someone like her and not me?
It's hard to not know the future. I really like our life right now, but eventually I think life would feel empty and even pointless without children.
I don't like the unknown.
Overwhelmingly, the internet told me that at my age I had a 90% chance of conceiving within a year, and a 25% chance of conceiving in 3 months.
3 months??!! I didn't feel ready. We'd decided weeks ago I would stop taking them. In a moment of stress, I brought my pills along anyway when we went away for the weekend.
After a few days of thinking about it, I took a deep breath and threw them away at the hotel. I still didn't feel completely ready, but I don't think anyone ever does.
It didn't happen the first 3 months. Every month, the week before my period was a roller coaster of emotions. Nerves, fear, and the excitement of not knowing what would happen. Were our lives about to change forever?
Gradually, the nerves and fear lessened. The excitement increased. I got more used to the idea. Slight relief at the arrival of my period slowly morphed into slight disappointment.
It's next to impossible to not read too much into "symptoms." Some of it might have been in my head, but mostly it's just that symptoms the week before your period are the same as the most common "early pregnancy symptoms" according to my good friend Google.
Not every month, but probably more often than not I've felt that annoying little ray of hope that I felt different and it was possible.
I would find myself daydreaming about how and when we would tell our families, about names, about having a baby around for the holidays.
After a few days of hope, it wouldn't happen and life would go back to normal until next month's emotional roller coaster.
After 6 months, the nerves returned, but for a different reason. Was there something wrong with me? I brushed off that feeling, because statistically we were still normal. It had only been a few months. We continued to enjoy our carefree newlywed life of constant traveling.
In September, I was 2 days late. That is very rare for me. I let myself hope. I thought about the perfect timing of it being our first anniversary, of being able to break the news to everyone on Christmas. Google let me know that if it was true, the due date would be the 4th of July- my husband's favorite holiday.
That hope and those thoughts came to an end the next day.
3 months and 3 periods later, I finally told my mom in tears. I hadn't wanted her to know because I didn't want her to worry. She struggled with infertility herself and has always been afraid that my sister or I would too.
I started taking vitamins. We made plans to see a doctor and get tests done a few months from now when we make the move back to America. It feels good to have a plan, but it's scary that we need one.
I don't know yet if there is a problem. This week we hit the one year mark of not preventing a baby. We are officially in the 10% and not the 90%.
There could be absolutely nothing wrong. There could be something wrong with one or both of us. It could be something easily fixable or not so much. We could have a long struggle ahead of us, or who knows... I could be pregnant now.
It has started to hurt a little when other people get pregnant. The story in the State of the Union about the pregnant homeless heroin addict hit me. Why someone like her and not me?
It's hard to not know the future. I really like our life right now, but eventually I think life would feel empty and even pointless without children.
I don't like the unknown.
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