It's Not You, It's Me

There are some big changes looming in our life right now - mainly, a cross country move out East. It's something we have both wanted for quite awhile and while we're both really excited, the logistics of the move are going to be a little outrageous (to say the least). Logistics like putting our stuff into storage twice, living at my parent's lake house until we find a place of our own, etc. I mean, why do things the simple way when you can complicate the hell out of it, right?

And of course, this means that I am leaving behind my circle of doctors and ((tear)) my acupuncturist. While we're living in limbo for a few months until we settle in the city where we want to be, I am going to be sans any kind of medical professional. Part of me thinks this sounds like a little piece of heaven...I just get to live my life for a few months! And then the other part of me is currently sitting in a corner, wringing her hands and rocking back and forth, muttering about losing precious time.

As we all know, stress is cryptonite to a reproductive system. And one of the top three stressful events in life? Moving. When it looked like we were going to move in June, a move that ultimately fell apart and we had to unpack all our things without setting foot out the door (which, really, could be a means of torture better than most I've heard of) my ovulation cycle basically just shut down. So I am already preparing myself for the havoc this could wreak on our hopes of having a baby anytime soon. Because you know, why live in the present when I can thoroughly stress myself out about things that haven't even happened yet? Ugh.

All of this led to a long conversation with my acupuncturist last week, where she suggested that instead of stressing myself out more over the next few months, we just stop actively trying for a little while. And instead, I focus on making myself as healthy as possible - eating really well, exercising, etc. for no other reason that to achieve a higher level of health and to treat myself kindly. Translation: back away from the BBT chart, loony tunes.

So again, part of me thinks this sounds like freedom. Breaking up with my basal body thermometer? No peeing on sticks? No wearing watches to bed? Not hounding down our "optimal" time each month like the reproductive Sherlock Holmes? Ahhh. But here is the thing - I know myself well enough to know that the feeling of freedom will only last so long. Eventually my frightened, panicky self will take over and convince me that we're wasting time, this is crazy, and I am already looking down the barrel at 40! (I am 30)

I've already gone back and forth a hundred times and have yet to reach a conclusion about what feels "right" for me. After a long talk with my husband, who was in total agreement that I release my death grip on my thermometer, he asked if I wanted him to just go take it off my bedside table and put it "somewhere safe for the time being." My reaction? I imagine it equates to someone taking away the last fix from an addict. In my defense, he does lose things a lot...