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November marked two years since the husband and I gleefully pinged (pung?) the last condom across the room and started to go at it bare-back. And as we hungrily ripped off each other’s clothes we had one thing on our minds: procreation.
For the past two years my womb has been officially open for business.
And I changed, although not how I’d hoped – the growing stomach, blooming complexion and, you know, generally being pregnant.
Instead these things started to happen:
1. Post-coital was no longer about wriggling away from the wet patch. Instead I was lifting my hips up to let gravity do its magic and give those swimmers a push in the right direction.
2. I became savant-like in my ability to tell you the date 40 weeks after any given day (Want a Christmas baby? Try to conceive in the first week of April. Midsummer baby? You’re looking at the end of September).
3. I gained a super-power! I could go into any party and, within three minutes, tell you which women of child-bearing age was not drinking booze or eating the brie/pate.
4. Suddenly every woman between the age of 16 and 50 was ‘the enemy’ with the ability to “beat” me in the quest for conception.
5. Rather than convincing myself I was going to lose weight, and buying clothes just a tad too small, I started buying roomier clothes with at least three months worth of baby growth in them.
6. And, for the first time in my life, I didn’t mind gaining a bit of weight because I’d rub my belly and imagine how it would feel to have a baby in there (also I’d already bought the bigger clothes so why not use ‘em?).
7. Every time I heard a pregnancy rumor connected to a celebrity I was online immediately trying to glean every available bit of information to find out if it is true – particularly if said celebrity was younger and appeared to have a flighty lifestyle that would surely prevent her getting pregnant (yes, Jamie Lynn Spears / Charlotte Church I’m talking about you).
8. Any time I fancied something to eat and had some specific in mind I became convinced it was a craving. This was it. The start of something.
9. When I walked along the street with the husband and saw a couple with a baby I’d squeeze his hand – that’ll be us soon. I don’t do that anymore.
But weeks then months passed. I began to think there might be a problem. I had two choices. Seek medical help/ intervention. Or start a blog cataloguing my trials and tribulations.
I chose both.
To date, the medical interventions haven’t helped. But blogging has given me advice to tap whenever my Doc has fudged and drifted with her explanations. It has given me a really supportive community of people who are going through the same thing when, in real life, everyone else seems to be brimming with fecundity. And, let’s face it, it’s a great place to vent my spleen.
So come on then, all you folk trying to get knocked up, what changes have you noticed?
Visit my blog: Womb for Improvement