As of this morning, we’re on to month 12 of the Great Baby Hunt. Leah’s pretty upset, as usual, but I’m trying to remain optimistic. Not necessarily about having another child, which really strikes me as something that’ll happen or not regardless of how badly we want it, but about the odds of life going on after today. I contend those odds are good.
I’m either unwilling or unable to understand Leah’s repeated and profound sadness at each month that goes by without a pregnancy. She sobs that all her friends are having second babies without any trouble at all. I remind her that 1) all her friends are not having second babies, and that 2) even those who are haven’t all done it with no trouble or time. Not to mention the fact that 3) we have friends who haven’t been able to conceive at all (yet).
But this is all wasted on her. She wants her time of mourning. Each unsuccessful attempt at conception derogates from her womanhood. Ava? Ava who? Because I can’t carry a child, it’s easy for me to suggest we take a moment like this not as a sign of failure or inadequacy, but as an occasion to be thankful for the life we have with our beautiful, brilliant little girl.
The timing of all this is inauspicious. Since we’re supposed to start “trying” 10 days after the start of Leah’s cycle, that means we’ll be at Kevin and Rachel’s for Thanksgiving when it’s time to get busy. I’m sure Rachel’s thrilled about this. And since Leah has decreed the complete abstinence from alcohol throughout the duration of our attempts, it’s going to be my first booze-free Klevar Thanksgiving (pray for me). Just kidding, G.G.! The schedule also means we’ll be trying again right around Christmas, assuming our November foray is fruitless.