This post is going to be a bit personal.  As in, more personal than I usually go.  I’m not sure whether it’s the hideous lack of sleep or the underlying events that are making me this chatty.  Either way, this is what I feel like writing about so that’s going to have to be good enough for now.

When I decided to blog about trying to get pregnant, I was worried that my blog would lose interest for anyone who’s not interested in kids and the making and raising of them.  I fretted about alienating some of the people who turn to me for their daily nonsense.  I love (the way only a blogger can love) everyone who hangs out with me here, and the last thing I want to do is change the blog to the point where some people forget why they started reading.

But.  I am trying to have a kid.  The process is relatively simple, but it’s going a lot less smoothly than I was anticipating and it’s this very topic I feel like writing about today.  I imagine that if I ever do manage to get pregnant, pregnancy and babies will forthwith become a popular topic around here.  Essentially, this will become a mom blog, albeit a mom blog with my perspective and penchant for sass.

However, long before this can become a mom blog, it’s got to get past what I’ve decided to call Operation Firstborn.  The operation hit a few snags this week.  As of yesterday, I was officially three days late if you took last month’s timing into perspective (which, why wouldn’t you?).  I was starting to suspect that Something Was Up.  I bought pregnancy tests and made plans to test this morning.

The problem was, I couldn’t sleep because I was so excited and nervous.  Excited because I could be getting a positive test result, and nervous because I had no idea what was going on if the result was negative.  I laid awake from 2 AM until 3 AM before deciding to just take the stupid test already and stop trying to force myself back to sleep.  I rationalized that a negative result at 3 AM would at least have the cushioning of fatigue to mask the disappointment.

A negative test result sucks just as much at 3 AM as it does any other time of the day.

I went back to bed, thinking purely in terms of expletives.  Mostly I was just scared because, if nothing was happening and I wasn’t pregnant, it could possibly mean that something was wrong with me.  My least favorite thought in the world is that something might be wrong with me, and the dark hours between 3 AM and 6 AM played those insecurities like a fiddle.  My mind cruelly ran through every woman I know personally who’s gotten pregnant while on the pill, then compared me to them and wondered why I couldn’t get pregnant when I was making it as easy as possible to do so.

I ended up falling asleep praying that things would get moving again if I wasn’t pregnant (weird prayer, I know, but if things getting going on their own meant that I was healthy and nothing was wrong, then it seemed a perfect prayer at the time) and when I woke up I was pleased to find that I was healthy and everything was going again just like it was supposed to.

A lot of information, I know.  When you’re running off an emotional breakdown hangover and three hours of sleep, the line of propriety shifts ever so slightly.  When you’re a blogger, writing about something so personal as pregnancy or raising children or even just trying to make children, it’s very difficult to properly tell the story without sharing a lot of information.

Operation Firstborn is still in full swing, though Wes and I are getting decidedly more relaxed about the whole thing as we go along.  Maybe March will be the month, maybe April, maybe even May.  I have no idea.  The lesson that getting pregnant is not the kind of thing you can plan is getting hammered into my skull more every day.

My hope is that if I ever do get pregnant, my joy would be magnified that much greater by the sorrows I overcame in getting there.  At least I have my health.  And my incredible husband who hugs me when I’m crying at 6 AM and doesn’t even seem grumpy about it.  And my puppy, who licks my face more if I’m crying and will even knock over my water glass for me if he thinks it’ll help.  For now, that’s more than enough for me.