I think I lied.

Remember when I said that I'd stopped expecting to be expecting, and that I'd be SURPRISED if I was pregnant this month? I think I lied.

Last Saturday, I started my period. I had said that I was expecting my period to start, but when it did, I proceeded to drink way more wine than I should have, and still I grieved my empty womb. Then on Sunday, as my husband and I were headed to church, we rescued a loose dog that was trying to commit suicide by running in the MIDDLE OF THE STREET. Yes, right between the cars and all. We called the owner and returned the dog, but not before Sami (the name of said dog) had left hair all over our backseat and put a hole in my shirt when she tried to jump in my lap. Oh, and the owner? She was pregnant.

We never made it to church. Instead, we went back home, curled up in bed, and my husband held me as I cried. And that night, he left a card for me in the bottom of the basket of laundry I was folding. In so many words, he wrote that he loved me and and that he's waiting with me. And I cried some more.

I knew that my husband wanted to have kiddos too, but I've felt the majority of the burden of this journey until now. And I'm not talking about whether we're dealing with male or female factor infertility. I mean that I'm the one who has been researching and charting and testing. I'm the one analyzing every pain, cramp, sensation and body function. I know when my period is supposed to show, and I deal with the hormonal effects when she does. I'm the one who is buying baby clothes and picking out baby names and blogging about my obsession with having a child. And I thought my husband was just along for the ride.

But now I realize that he is on this ride with me. He came to my OB appointment with me on Monday and asked more questions than I did. He humors me when I suggest baby names and just smiles when I show him something I've bought for our future child. He wants to have this baby too.

As I looked over at him in bed last night, I suddenly felt like someone was squeezing my heart so tight I could barely breathe. At that moment, I felt how deeply I love him. I have always loved him, but now I cannot picture my life without him in it. He has become a part of me and I cannot wait to see what we can create, together. A life, a child, a home and a lifetime of memories.

The C-Word

I've made an appointment with my ob/gyn to discuss TTC. When I spoke with her in March, she suggested that we try Clomid this summer if we still weren't pregnant. As I've mentioned before, there is one side effect that worries me, the risk of multiples: 10% chance of twins, 1% chance of triplets or more. 1 in 10 is no small number, and I'm not exactly interested in having two babies at once. But we're well into summer now, and still not pregnant, so I'm getting to the point of desperate. The appointment is Monday. Stay tuned for more.

You're Invited

Just in case you want to throw me a baby shower when I'm pregnant one day, these invitations from Minted are fabulous. Start saving now.

something to smile about

It's been a rough few months. TTC has been an emotional rollercoaster and I HATE rollercoasters. I'm that girl who holds your sandals and backpack while you scream your head off, flipping upside down and around and around at ridiculous speeds. TTC is a bit like that, the highs and lows of the sex, the waiting, the hope and the let-down. And like ours, yours might be a secret ride, and so you must smile and laugh when asked if you'll be having kids soon. "Maybe one day!" I say, and my heart breaks.

When I first started this blog, I had no intention of sharing my real identity. I never thought anyone would read this, except for maybe my husband and my mom. This was going to be my private and anonymous journal, for recording my thoughts and our progress on this road to parenthood. For collecting pictures of baby clothes, and ideas for decorating the nursery. For keeping track of our growing baby name list, and my irregular period. For giving in to my obsession with having a child, without the fear of being rebuked or ridiculed in real life. Because I was just "Jane" to the Internet world.

Along the way, I created a Twitter profile and started to connect with other women TTC, mommies, and various sources for fertility and pregnancy news, including Conceive. When three bloggers for Conceive became pregnant, I joked about becoming a blogger for them too, for the good luck. But they saw my tweet and asked if I was really interested. REALLY? ME? Why not? So this week, I actually became a blogger for Conceive. As in, I, Johanna Rose, am openly sharing my journey to mommyland, and connecting with other women on the same journey. And I find myself, once again, excited about TTC.

I've stopped expecting to be expecting.

It's July. Which means we've been trying for seven months. SEVEN MONTHS. The funny thing is, right after we were married, the husband and I used condoms AND birth control, because I was so afraid of getting pregnant. Hilarious.

I realize too, that I'm starting to lose hope. Even last month, I completely expected to be pregnant. From the beginning it's been like, not this month? Oh well, next month. Definitely next month. But here I am, it's been "next month" six times, and I'm still not pregnant. I've stopped looking for symptoms and signs. I've stopped caring about how often we have sex or whether or not I should lay still for 10 minutes after the deed is done. I've stopped expecting to be expecting. And I've started expecting my period every month.

I have to admit, there is still a glimmer of hope. Everyone tells me that when we stop trying, we'll get pregnant. What does that even mean though? Technically, trying to get pregnant means that you're not preventing it. And if we really want to have a baby, we can't exactly go back to using birth control, which means that we'll never really stop trying. Of course, it has a lot to do with your mentality I think. And if you really can stop trying, I think I have. If I do get pregnant this month, I will be genuinely surprised. Almost as surprised as if we weren't even trying. Because we're not.