We're not trying to fall pregnant anymore. That's the technical bit.
.
The schmecknical bit is that we are still... um... what's a word I can use on my blog that won't offend certain readers who think nobody on the planet has ever ... CONSUMMATED! That's the word.
.
Back to my point. Infertility has a way of killing it. The fun part, I mean. It's all business in that department. It's all "ok we can't do it tonight, cos we must save the swimmers for tomorrow night, when I might actually be producing one un-scrambled egg, if we're lucky." And then, when it happens to fit the schedule and the basal body temperature is just right and all of the conditions are perfect and we actually get to... um... well... you know... well, then after the um... afterwards, I get to lie there, flat on my back for at least twenty minutes to give the buggers a chance to swim in the right direction. Problem is - those buggers could swim the midmar mile and still not find a good egg. See how much fun trying is? Soooo much fun.
.
So now we've given up trying. What a relief! But oh so hard to "stop trying".
.
Because, even though now it's all only about the fun again, and not about it being a procreation production line, there's still this teeny weeny leetle voice lurking at the back of my head that always whispers, wonders, no matter what mufflers and silencers I strap to it... Could this be the month?
.
The schmecknical bit is that we are still... um... what's a word I can use on my blog that won't offend certain readers who think nobody on the planet has ever ... CONSUMMATED! That's the word.
.
Back to my point. Infertility has a way of killing it. The fun part, I mean. It's all business in that department. It's all "ok we can't do it tonight, cos we must save the swimmers for tomorrow night, when I might actually be producing one un-scrambled egg, if we're lucky." And then, when it happens to fit the schedule and the basal body temperature is just right and all of the conditions are perfect and we actually get to... um... well... you know... well, then after the um... afterwards, I get to lie there, flat on my back for at least twenty minutes to give the buggers a chance to swim in the right direction. Problem is - those buggers could swim the midmar mile and still not find a good egg. See how much fun trying is? Soooo much fun.
.
So now we've given up trying. What a relief! But oh so hard to "stop trying".
.
Because, even though now it's all only about the fun again, and not about it being a procreation production line, there's still this teeny weeny leetle voice lurking at the back of my head that always whispers, wonders, no matter what mufflers and silencers I strap to it... Could this be the month?
3 comments:
Hi Char, I read some of the comments on background colour etc. I beg to differ - I love it! Firstly, to me, the eyes (stunning by the way) say "this is Char talking to you". The black background together with your eyes add depth. The touch of blue softens the mood..My eyes aren't sore. More importantly, letting it all 'hang out' is brave. Thank you for allowing us to 'see into your soul'. All the best to you and Rob. Love you lots - Kim
Hi Tjommie, it's hard to give up on a dream. Don't be to hard on yourself and the 'little voice'. Lots of love, Hanlie
I almost fell of my chair laughing when you said "gooi-ing" - I haven't heard that in years!
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