If time wasn’t a factor I “would love to just, “let things happen” so to speak, but I am 40. I pour over the stats saying that the old you get, the likely hood of getting pregnant reduces by not just a few points, but by entire percentages. It’s daunting. And let us not forget, that looming, very close by now, is the possibility of peri-menopause, and ultimately, the ending of my egg producing power. I tremble as I write that. It looms, ominously over my head, taunting me. I haven’t feared getting older like this before. Please body, please on please just let me pop out a couple of healthy babies before you shut that down, I plea through tears as I enter the dreaded two week limbo.
If I had met this man 10 years earlier, well, everything would be different, and if I go down that rabbit hole, the truth is, we probably wouldn’t have been as compatible as we are now. So, I won’t lament, or regret the things that cannot be, other than to say, trying to conceive would have been easier. And on that note, trying to have a baby, is so much more of everything than I ever could have imagines.
The pros of course, include sex, more sex, and intimacy that is nothing short of miraculous. Two people, coming together, trying to start a life, because we are truly in love, and want a family is more than I could have imagined as a youth. The butterflies in my stomach feeling is ongoing, and is blissful, calming, and exciting all at the same time. I love just laying in his arms afterwards, calm, fulfilled, and in an enjoyment of the silence of my wondering, pondering brain. There is nothing quite like that kind of sex. All risk is gone, and what it left is possibilities, and happiness. Oh and sweet sweet satisfaction.
The cons however, creep into my mind, very shortly afterwards. During the past 5 years, I worked very diligently to listen and react to my body, mind, and emotions. Through yoga, writing, and the ear of an amazing woman, I became more in tune with everything internal. Overall, this has brought me great strength, honed my empathy, and allowed me the permission to listen to my body cues, and rest when needed. Something that I have never been able to do before. Unfortunately, being so in tune with my inner working, I am also more susceptible to noticing changes in my body.
As I mentioned in my previous post, my hormones are raging, and causing nothing short of chaos during the 2 weeks after ovulation. I feel everything! And let me tell you, that ride is no fun. If you Google early pregnancy symptoms, PMS, and ovulation, there is so much overlap between them, that there is zero telling what is actually going on. And for added fun, there is simply no method of testing to tell you the truth of your body. At least nothing in a cost effective, at home, peace of mind type way. Pregnancy test only work accurately when you miss your period. Blood tests tell you thing much sooner, but, you need to see your Dr. for a referral, and that usually takes the same amount of time. There are urine test, and thermometers for ovulation prediction, but that still leaves you with the 2 weeks until your period arrives to contend with.
Some of you might be saying, “it’s only 2 weeks” that’s nothing in the grand scheme of things! But during those two weeks, your hormones are doing all of the things. And as added fun, I found out recently, that many women experience an increase of hormonal fluctuations as they grow closer, and close to menopause. For those who don’t or didn’t, I am so envious of you, because the last few months has included more emotional breakdowns than I think the rest of my PMS combined. Maybe a slight exaggeration, for dramatic effect, to drive home the point of my exhaustion.
Dearly, I would love to just stop listening to my body. To go with the flow, and say, c’est la vie! Followed by que sera, sera. But, to go full circle in this post, I am 40. Time is not on my side. Egg quality is diminishing. My chances are going down exponentially, and as my Dr. informed me, my problem is not infertility (due to my miscarriages), so… something else is going on, that I am certain time will not just fix. Argh!!! So I sit here, venting this all out in a effort to quiet the noises of hormones in my head long enough to focus on pitching my book. Fingers crossed, everything works out in my head!
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So, it seems to me like my biological clock and my body are in cahoots to drive me absolutely mad. It’s as if, now that my body knows what pregnancy feels like, it has realized it’s true calling. And pregnant or not, I am inundated with symptoms. What fresh hell is this? Breasts doubling in size, right before my period and aching to high hell. The nausea, the exhaustion, and on my god the hormones!!! The fluctuations of it all are enough to drive a person insane. Is there a word for pre-pregnancy baby brain?
Perhaps I should be grateful that for the majority of my life, periods were a mere blip on my radar. Well let me tell you, my body is absolutely making up for lost time. Every time it realizes that I am not pregnant it goes into full rebellion mode. And I am absolutely losing my mind, sanity, and whatever grace I have with people. But the person you should feel most compassion for is my dear partner taking this all like a champ.
To be clear, we were not trying (as of the original writing of this post), as my doctor wanted me to see a gynecologist to ensure everything was in working order, as a direct result of having two miscarriages in one year. So, the possibility of getting pregnant was extremely slim. But again, do you know who couldn’t hear that? My body and hormones. They do not care. My biological clock screams, and they respond with volatile mood swings, tears, and a sore and aching body.
No one warned me about this when we decided to start trying. It’s maddening! And it is exhausting. I am tired of being told we shouldn’t try for the moment, then given the green light, rinse and repeat. And perhaps my body is echoing my sentiment of annoyance. My body is not getting any younger, and those eggs won’t be viable forever. So could we stop with the issues please? I am in limbo, with my body swinging me back and forth between sanity, and whatever the hell my current mood is. I just want a bit of time to enjoy all the baby making fun. But clearly, my body does not agree, and has taken a firm stance that it needs to put me through the ringer, perhaps making sure that I really do want a baby. Ugh… hormones suck!!!
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In light of the change in direction of my blog, I think it’s prudent to begin this one with a little note, or disclaimer if you will. Sex, and making a baby go hand in hand, and thus, I will be doing what I do best, which is overshare, or to put it a little kinder, be real and raw. This post is a perfect example of that, and thus, me being true to myself, and putting the things out into the world that I want to, for better or for worse. I remain sex positive, while embracing all the experiences that brought me to this point in my life. So, with this little explanation firmly in place, I will continue to share my journey.
In my last post I am pretty sure I used the words “best sex of my life”, or maybe it was the post before that, or maybe I keep writing it because it’s true. Bu the more I have been thinking about it, the more weight that statement seems to have for me, and my relationship. Yes, we absolutely fit each other damn near perfectly, and have incredible intimacy in and out of the bedroom. So, of course I can brag that we are made for each other. But, it’s actually far deeper than that. I trust him with my body, and he trusts me with his. And that is the element that sets what we have apart from anything I have experienced before.
I was previously with a man, who believed that he knew my body better than I did. Further, he believed that he knew what I wanted, because he knew what every woman wanted. This is tough to write, but with him, I gave up trying to argue or tell him what I wanted or needed, simply because he wouldn’t listen. Here’s an example, and admittedly, it’s difficult to just pick one as there are many!
I can orgasm from breast play, and because of that, I enjoy having my breasts touched and sucked in a certain way so I can have extra orgasms. I explained this to the person in question, and he excitedly wanted to see it in action. So I coached him through it, we had a lot of fun, and then for inexplicable reasons, the next time we had sex, he reverted back to a move that did nothing for me. In fact, it brought me a little discomfort. I stopped him, told him I didn’t like that, and that it did nothing for me. His response? A bold, other woman have liked it! Followed by him stopping the sex in defiance, acting basically like I had ruined everything.
OK, fine, maybe I went about it to harshly, because admittedly, I am terrible at asking for what I want. I would much rather people discover my body, and then we get to experience things together without words, and focus more on body language, and all the fun stuff in intimacy.
So, the next time, I did just that, guiding his hands, and mouth in such a way that we both could see things were working. Then boom, in the middle of things, he did the thing I had asked him not to do (which in case you are wondering is a hard tweak of my nipples). It was if he couldn’t help himself. I was gutted. This back and forth went on for months, of me stopping and moving his hands away, and him doing what he wanted because he liked it. Finally, I asked him to stop touching my breasts altogether. And the odd thing was, he was fine with this. If he couldn’t touch me the way he wanted to, he was OK with having none of it.
This is one of only many, many examples of me asking for things, which again, is something I feel very uncomfortable doing, and then being ignored, in fact told that my feelings were just wrong. I think, looking back, that is one the driving forces behind me being OK with non-monogamous exploration. I saw it as a chance to get some sexual needs met. I figured, if we were dating another couple it would be away to have a fresh start with people, and get to explore each other’s bodies, and I could finally be heard. Unfortunately, the reality was often such a frenzied buildup of sexual tension that group sex, or sex with other people was more of a release. Followed by a long wait to see them again, with the sexual tension building up, rinse and repeat. We never could quite get a stride going, whereby intimacy with people outside of us could grow, and I could get that side of my needs met. Even though I tried, so many times!
Now, enter in the man of my dreams, with every single cliché I hate and love at the same time. We listen to each other, and really want to please the other. The connection is mind blowing! And while we haven’t been together for decades, or even years, I can honestly say, he his the first person I have felt electricity with this far into things. Usually that wains, once the butterflies wear off, but with him, I still find myself catching my breath, or falling deeper in love.
The foundation for how we talk about sex, and our intimate needs is firmly in place. We’ve both made plenty of mistakes in past relationships, and instead of holding onto those grudges, we openly embrace the possibilities that we can create together (Ooph that phrase has a lot of extra meaning at this juncture). And also, we satisfy each other. No matter what, we are enough for each other. And that is the key, my key. That mystical thing that I was looking for all these years, and never quite found, until the day I realized to my delight that he might have been flirting with me. And when we slept together that first time, I knew that he was by far, the best I had ever had.
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What a terrifying thing to admit. Are we even allowed to do that? This is something couples keep to themselves until the 3 month mark is over, then you announce. But the thing is, the 3 month part is the hardest. It’s the most nerve wracking, and the most traumatic, especially when things go wrong. Or even when things go right, or so I assume, because it’s your first time and you’re terrified.
I’ve recently had things go wrong. It was awful, but we both persevered like you’re supposed to. We grieved together, but remained separated from the world. When I went to work, I pretended that everything was ok. Then I would breakdown at home, where I would face another reality of the miscarriage, and then another. The isolation, and the pretending everything is alright is exhausting. It takes a toll on you. On your womanhood, or manhood, or all the things that creep into your minds as you go from hope and wonderment, to letdown, and sadness.
The medical professionals tell you, especially with the first one that’s It’s not your fault. It’s common. You google the stats and see about 1/4 of all pregnancies end in miscarriage. But is that true? Was mine recorded? Am I a statistic or just another unrecorded woman who went through something we aren’t supposed to talk about? Will I go through it again? Can I persevere through another failure?
And don’t get me started on the burden and grief and sheer helplessness that is felt by our partners. Is that what being a future parent is really about? Taking your lumps in silence and then only talking about things when they are good? I hate the silence. I hate that we went through that alone.
So, I’m changing the conversation. We are trying to have a baby. I’m now 40 and that’s scary.
But also incredibly fun, and so hot, and all the amazing things that sex can be, especially with the best partner that you have ever been with. If we don’t start trying now, the reality is, we will be out of time. Biology doesn’t let a woman have babies at any point in her life, my biological clock is screaming. Men, yet again have hit the procreation jackpot. They can always have babies, well almost. Whereas me? I simply cannot wait anymore to try. And because I have found the man of my dreams, who is on the absolute same page as me, it’s simply a matter of can we, rather than do we want to. So, we are trying… to have a baby.
And yes, I am terrified of bringing any of you readers along for the journey. For sharing the private, personal, and all the jazz in between. But here I am, being vulnerable and raw, again!
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