I've told myself that I have 28 days to not focus on infertility: 28 days to focus on work and my neglected career that I have worked so hard for; focus on getting healthy, eating healthy and exercising without hormonally-induced psychopathy and horrible physical discomfort; focus on socializing (and drinking) without concerns of timing; focus on living my life without waiting on results and blood draws.
I vowed to cut out sweets and refined grains. I resolved to workout daily. I resolved to not obsess about infertility.
In needing a complete break, I also took a short break from blogging. I needed to not think about IF, and that meant writing about it. Unfortunately (or fortunately) I now feel invested in the lives of others so I still followed blogs, but didn't comment (sorry).
The problem is that this doesn't leave me. I think about it daily. Definitely less than when I was taking medications and waiting for phone-calls from the nurses to give me the results and next steps, but still thoughts creep in.
I work with children on a daily basis. Parents of my patients ask me if I have children of my own yet. Co-workers talk about their children. My parents talk about their future grandchildren. My dog is cute and reminds me of an eventual child when he cuddles with me. I have 9 nieces and nephews that needed Christmas gifts bought, wrapped, and given. I watch TV and I still have a Facebook account. I can't escape thinking about children. I can't escape the desire. I can't pretend not to want something, not to care.
On New Years Eve, I had a minor panic attack over going into the next year without a confident plan, heading into the year I turn 30, and thinking about our financial situation and how we're going to manage everything that might be to come. We were headed to C's family with all 9 nieces/nephews and siblings awaiting our arrival. It was all too much. I feel like I'm leading two separate lives; the part of me that continues to live life and have other goals/dreams/plans and the part that is still stuck in this deep hole of childlessness.
Day nine. Nineteen more days to go before the possibility of moving forward. Nineteen more days to reclaim my life.