Well, as of yesterday, we're officially on a baby-making break. Somehow ovulation wasn't detected despite more than two weeks of testing, but ironically this cycle was right on time. Let's hope it's the start of a trend. If so, that would be a tiny bit of good news in the midst of a generally unhappy little scenario.
As I mentioned previously, if we didn't get pregnant this time around, we had to wait a while to start trying again. We're going with Craig's whole family to Disney in November, and if I were too pregnant too fly or if we had a really new baby, it would prevent me from going, which would be such a bummer. I want to see Jacob's little face the first time he sees it all, so I just can't fathom not being there. Plans have already been made, so it's full speed ahead with that. The way I figure it, getting pregnant next month would have put a due date right near the end of October, less than two weeks before the trip. I think you're not supposed to fly any later than seven months (and frankly, I don't know how I'd feel about a week on my feet at that point either), so that's a couple more months we'd have to wait. If we wanted to aim for a spring-ish due date (April?) that's moving toward a summer conception.
So, for a few months, we're off the hook completely. The decision will come after we're past that Disney trip window, when we need to decide if I'll be risking my sanity by being homebound with a baby in the middle of winter. A lot will depend on what happens in the interim. Will my cycle regulate itself to the point that making real attempts will be easier? Will the blood work I need to get done tomorrow give us any insights into why things have been so off? I think it may be silly to wait lest we still find ourselves in this same position a year from now. And beyond that, if things still don't work, we'll have to decide how far we're willing to go to have another one. Risk having twins? IVF? Adoption? Hopefully we never get to that point, but admittedly, it's getting a tiny bit scarier each month.
It hit me yesterday morning that we're just not getting any younger. I mean, I understood that I'm currently facing being 34 going on 35 at the youngest. That's far from old in the childbearing world, but fertility declines considerably around 35, and I'll be five years older than I was the last time I went through the pregnancy/labor process. It may not seem like a lot, but a lot can change in five years, from the way my body handles pregnancy, to how it tolerates labor and delivery, to how it snaps back (if it does) afterward. Everything could be totally different next time around, and I wasn't really planning on that when I started looking toward #2. In addition, Craig turns 40 at the end of this year. I don't know how sperm quality might be affected by age, but I know he doesn't want to be an old dad, either. His recent diet and 30 pound weight loss should help a bit, at least, but the more this gets put off, the more this stuff becomes an issue.
In the meantime, it's a funny place to find ourselves in. All of the planning we'd been doing, all of the things that were waiting on a new baby, sort of find themselves in no-man's land. Lately I'd been thinking I should think twice about buying new pants, but now I know I'd get quite a bit of use out of them regardless. I was thinking about Jacob's big boy bed and bedroom, too. I mean, we figured it was just a matter of time until he had to move, but now it could be another year and he's getting awfully old to be in a baby room. I think we've both been looking forward to the day where we can snuggle him in his bed, as book reading and bedtime will take on a whole new joy. Of course, on the off-chance that we ended up using Clomid and (God forbid) had twins, they'd have to end up in the big room and I'd hate to work hard on a big boy room only to have to deconstruct it again. And we'd lose our spare room in the meantime, unless we push forward with the plan to get a trundle bed for the office...which could be a waste if none of this pans out. It's funny knowing that I won't be pregnant this summer after all, and that I might not be pregnant for the Disney trip either if things continue to not go well. After nine months of planning and mostly blind attempts at getting pregnant, all of a sudden it's just...done. It's weird. And yes, sad.
I'm hoping the lack of pressure will be a good thing, and it'll make everything that much more special if/when it finally happens. It's a lot of time to focus on Jacob and pray hard for a quick and simple resolution once we're ready again. But right now it's a little bit of a bummer.