In my last post I talked about not putting off the things I enjoy for fear that they  might disrupt ovulation, conception, and/or implantation. I haven’t made it out to the barn yet, but I have been enjoying some AWESOME endorphin releasing 3-mile runs a few times a week. We’ll see if I have the courage to keep hitting the treadmill during the second half of my cycle next week.

This brings me to my fertile window, which starts tomorrow. Le sigh. I may not be putting off happiness and I have been enjoying a very vibrant F-it mentality for the last two weeks, but even I in my to-hell-with-it state can’t ignore the impending presence of ovulation. I don’t care how far I fall from the TTC wagon, there’s always a little voice in there that says, “what if?” So I’ve been tense this week, me being still partially on the go-cart-of-fun that’s trying naturally to make a baby with Stage IV endo and not ideal sperm. The closer I get to go time the more tense I become.

Here’s why:

1. It feels like I’ve been punished for some of my F-it ways. Said ways included having several drinks, THREE TIMES in one week, when I was alcohol free for many months (if alcohol is harmful for most, it’s literal poison for endo). This combined with finally watching the final season of Lost into the wee hours of the morning and crying my eyes out like someone died (seriously, I cried for like 2-days, that’s how attached I got to Jack, Sawyer, Kate and Hurley). Then the cherry on top of my emotional ice cream cone was finishing The Fault In Our Stars , which of course caused me to cry some more. I believe these factors lowered my immune system and led me to get an infection of the lady parts variety. I won’t get into details, but let’s just say I’ve been loading up on probiotics. We’re almost in the clear, but if things aren’t  symptom free by ovulation, I’m not sure I”ll force the issue. And you all know what that means: a wasted chance at procreation! OH THE HORROR.

2. To be honest, I have been at charting still, up until yesterday when my stupid basal thermometer broke. I’ve decided to take this as a sign from the F-it Gods to keep doing the F-it dance. My chart will be incomplete this month, but oh WELL.  It’s not like charting is some voodoo spell that can help me magically get pregnant anyway. So I won’t be able to confirm ovulation this month. Big woop (as I resist the urge to scour Amazon for 24-delivery of a new thermometer). Maybe I’ll let myself get serious again next month, maybe not.

Speaking of getting serious, that’s something that I’ve been thinking a lot about lately. I’ve been on hiatus from full-time employment for a little under 6-months to pursue my dream of being a fiction writer. The first draft should be done soon-ish, then I hope to have a completed manuscript by October. For some reason all sorts of job opportunities have been coming my way lately. One such opportunity involves regulatory compliance at my old company. There are pros and cons to going back to work, the biggest pro of all: more mullah.  Part-time just isn’t cutting it, especially when Hubby and I are saving for a house and possibly IVF, if that’s what it comes too and I suspect it might. Me working would obviously speed the saving up considerably, but would mean sacrificing my dream of being an author before I’ve finished what I started. For anyone who’s ever tried to write a made up book about made up people, doing so after work and on weekends isn’t impossible, but it’s far from ideal. So at this point I’m torn between starting a new career entirely, like real estate, or engaging full-time with the devil I know (old company), or waiting until the book is done. I hate feeling like it’s the book or a baby though. I also hate feeling like as soon as I start a new job I’ll either get pregnant with tons of complications or will have to start IVF amidst a horrendous Los Angeles commute. Double sigh. I guess I should feel lucky that anyone even wants to work with me in the first place, with unemployment still hovering above 8 percent.

BUT, you know what would really be awesome? This: The book turns out to be actually readable and I get an agent and people actually buy it so I don’t have to work at a job I hate. I get pregnant this month with twins, a girl and a boy, and go on to live happily ever after on a horse farm where I grow my own veggies and have like 10 avocado trees. And dogs, lots of dogs.

They might be pipe dreams, but they’re my dreams. That counts for something right?

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