Breaking up with optimism

Okay, so... we're trying to get pregnant. Not trying like, with science or anything, but giving it the old college try.

And before Duckie, we had said we'd try until Sweetie's 40th birthday, which is in 46 days. And then after Duckie, it took a little while to get my body settled again (and the doctor warned us away from trying for a couple months), and I admitted to Sweetie that I was losing faith that it would happen. He quickly said we could change our timeline if we needed to, and it *was* an arbitrary timeline, but I think he was just shocked to see me lose my near-eternal optimism.

You know, when I was younger and I learned about optimism and pessimism, optimism seemed like the one that suited me, and the option with the most potential for good. I mean, you're always looking forward to something good, and mostly it happens, and when it doesn't, well you can see the silver lining or look forward to the next good thing. You see disappointments as an anomaly rather than a way of life.

In Through the Looking Glass, the White Queen says that in her youth, she was able to believe six impossible things before breakfast. I may have her beat. I can believe that the symptoms of PMS are the symptoms of early pregnancy. I can put salsa on my eggs and drink two cups of bitter black coffee, then believe that that reflux-y feeling is morning sickness. I can believe that spotting is implantation, rather than a... scout. I can believe that a negative pregnancy test was just taken too early.

And for a long time, every month I would calculate what birthdate the potential baby would have. I would think about what season I'd be the biggest in. I'd figure out at what family gathering we could announce the happy news. I'd think, "this is the baby who went to Santa Cruz/hiking/the ocean before anyone knew about him." After Duckie, I have a harder time getting into that. I keep thinking of January 1st, 2014, his due date.

My cycle is irregular, so one month, it'll be day 29, and I'll be thinking "If it doesn't happen tonight, then I'll test tomorrow!" And I do, and it's negative, and a day later, on day 31, I'll start. And the next month, I'll have a day where I pee a lot on day 25, and I'll think, "Is this it?" and then I'll go to the bathroom and find I've had the shortest cycle ever. One way or another, I always get my hopes up, and they always get dashed.

I've just had my feelings hurt too many times. By my own stupid body.

I don't know if I'm ready to give up yet. People ask me a lot if we're planning to have another baby. I don't really want sympathy or follow-up questions, so I often give a very vague answer. Sometimes I outline why I might not want to have another, or why it might not be so bad if we didn't: no more diapers, no more sleepless nights, no more teething. And for a few minutes, I entertain the idea. Maybe those things are true. Parenting is hard, and often it is not fun at all. Sometimes I walk around in that idea like it is a pair of shoes I'm trying to break in: maybe it would be fine if we didn't have another. Maybe whatever happens is for the best. And then I'll see a mom with a baby in a wrap, and I just can't fathom not getting to do it again.

And I'm a magical thinker, even though I know it's ridiculous. A friend of mine, when I told her I was thinking of giving up, said "That's when it happens! Right when you give up, that's when it'll happen." And I was like, "YEAH. I'll give up! I'll tell myself I've given up so it will happen!" Which is not very good logic on a couple of fronts.

I'm tired. Tonight is day 28. In the last year, I've only had three cycles that were this long or longer. And so exactly half of me is thinking, "Maybe this is it! If I don't start by tomorrow at bedtime, I'll test on Sunday." And the other half is thinking, "you're such a fucking sap." I feel like Charlie Brown when Lucy holds the football for him. Why does he keep believing her? Is it optimism or downright stupidity? I want to think the best of Charlie. And of myself. But I'm starting to think optimism is for suckers.