Today, I am disappointed. I feel like I let myself down. This is all silly considering I've done nothing wrong, but I still feel like I dropped the ball.
Basically, the window for giving it the old college try for this month is over. We can still practice until next month, but we missed the chance to make our own little crying monster for approximately the next 4 weeks.
This doesn't mean never. It doesn't mean we're done trying. It doesn't really many anything other than not right this second.
But right this second is what I want. I hate the idea that you come to this big decision and then it's this whole question-marked waiting game of timing and trying and hoping and minor disappointment that could be major disappointment. I wish you could just decide and then *POOF*, Glenda the Good Witch shows up with a tiny little pooping machine. Or a baby. Whichever.
Alas, that isn't the way it works. The mere decision to try to have a baby does not bring forth a baby. In fact, it makes things worse if you're like me. It makes you go "WHEN WHEN WHEN WHEN WHEN WHEN WHEN?!?!?!?!?" and then you feel like you're going to 'splode. You feel like you have to plan out your sexual encounters for maximum procreational capacity. It kind of takes the fun out of something that is usually just really, really fun.
I don't want to be stressed about this, but I don't know how not to be. I just want it to be now so badly. I just don't want to keep this inside anymore. I want to feel like I have a justification for wanting a little monster of my own. For a normal person, just being married and ready is enough. I'm not normal. Just wanting one doesn't make it okay for me to be okay with wanting one. I can't explain it. Basically, I'm a moderately maternal hot mess of twisted confusion.
That's nothing new, though.
Sigh. It's hip to be square, kids.