I was a nervous wreck when I went off birth control in September in preparation of baby-making. I imagined I had two weeks left of a "normal" life before I was with child and the horrible nausea and exhaustion would soon set in.
After all, my cousin who had long had irregular periods and other problems of a womanly kind got pregnant the first month she tried for a baby. Others I knew had similar success.
So, I sipped my last glass of wine, vowing to give up all alcohol until the baby arrived, and also gave up acne medicine, caffeinated soda and lunch meat. Just to be on the safe side.
Alas, reality was a far cry from my fantasies.
My husband and I got down to business every few days around the time I expected to ovulate. I religiously made notes on the calendar after each attempt and my husband made electronic notes in his period-tracker phone app. I even had some spotting that I was certain was implantation bleeding.
But then my period arrived. I consoled myself with the above mentioned wine.
I felt like a deflated balloon.
Of course, baby-making is not always romantic. Sometimes it involves having a half-hearted quickie before work and the like.
The following month, now eating lunch meat and using zit cream, I was back to baby-making with a new gusto.
This time my cycle was so long I was convinced I'd succeeded.
My sense of smell was as keen as a bloodhound, a sign of early pregnancy.
My imagination turned every gas bubble into pregnancy cramping.
Once again, my period arrived.
The adage "better late than never" did not ring true for me.
I was surprised at the impact of the let-down I experienced after only two months of trying. I worried I would never be able to get pregnant.
So, here I am. The third month trying for baby.
I have new sympathy for couples that try for years to conceive.
Three months is nothing to complain about, but the process of trying for baby can be disheartening.
Now I'm approaching the whole thing with a more relaxed attitude and trying to let nature take it's course.