Limbo

I think the hardest thing about not getting pregnant right away is having so much time to prepare for something you can never be fully prepared for. That, and breaking out because you went off your acne medication in anticipation of the formation of an imminent placental conduit.

Actually, it's both of those things. It's the profound and the mundane. It's dropping $4 words (or whatever the expression is) in your blog entry instead of cooing baby talk to your stomach. It's savoring cocktails, even though you've never really been all that into drinking, because you know that if you couldn't drink them you'd miss them.

It's really, really, really enjoying soft cheeses. And running around naked in your apartment.

If you get pregnant right away, even if you've been trying, there has to be an element of, "Now what have I done?" Of course, if you've been trying, that feeling is hopefully eclipsed by happiness and marvel. When you don't get pregnant right away, you're left thinking: "What am I about to do?" It's a constant state of uncertainty.

But maybe it's that uncertainty that keeps you going. Maybe that's how you're able to look, happily, at clothing you might buy for Christmas for the baby your distant relative just had--and (unknowingly) named the name you had chosen for your own child.

Or maybe it's that uncertainty that you just have to get used to, for the rest of your adult life, one way or another.