Things I'm afraid to tell you

I've debated doing this post, only because I'm not a professional blogger nor do I want to appear as if I think I am. I mean, geesh. This blog has six followers and I think half of them are my blood relatives. But I read all the confessions linked on creature comforts, after I read her own very moving piece, and I've been seeing this black box pop up around the blogosphere, and then I read my sister's. And I'm feeling inspired. I used to be completely transparent in this venue. This blog was an outlet for emotions, thoughts, and dreams. That all seemed to change when I got married. No longer am I just exposing myself and I recognize that. My in-laws check in here, as do some of the Captain's friends. I try to be sensitive to that. There are things that obviously are no one else's business. But the purpose of this movement is to not reel people into one another's business. It's not to engender sympathy or even understanding. It's to be real. And I've longed for this sort of release for so long. So at the risk of having one of those "conversations" with my husband, here goes.

I used to say, back when I was single, there are only two things that I'm afraid of. First (but not my #1 fear) was boys, as in the males in my peer group. Meaning, I think, that I feared my dependency on them. How much self-import I gleaned from them. How the right wrong kind of man could get me to do things I never would dream of doing. How I could be my spunky self while just friends, but would go "jellyfish" as soon as it turned into more than friends. Gratefully, I married a wonderful and good man with whom I can be assertive and I no longer have to be afraid of boys. So many crises averted! Second was infertility. No, this is not an admission of infertility. Not yet and hopefully not ever. I decided that I would wait for six months before seeking professional guidance. I have two more to go. Each month, when my temperature drops again, I can't help but be a little bit more than bummed and that second fear which is really my #1 gets a tiny bit more real. It's just that the longer it takes, the longer it will take, right? And there is nothing in this world that I want more than to be a mother.

I wonder if there is something wrong with my biology. It's not a justifiable worry...yet, so I try to keep it to wonder. I know that 33 is the new 23, but still, I wonder if everything's working like it should. Then I wonder if wondering is keeping things from happening. Kind of like, "it will happen when you stop thinking about it."

I know that it's in God's hands and all according to His timing. I know it and I trust it, and then sometimes I wonder if His timing would speed up if I were more prepared. Hence my fascination with detoxing my home and going all-natural with my personal care. It's nearly been a year since I last colored my hair. And three months since I've used nail polish. And before that pedicure, I had gone about six months. In reality, there probably isn't a whole lot I can do or not do to alter the outcome that I'm not already doing. At least not at this point. So it's a waiting game, and a charting game, and a try to just enjoy my life as it is and be present game. And then I wish I didn't think of it like a game, because I can get pretty competitive and sometimes it's better if I just sit on the sidelines. But that's the last thing I want to do in this particular game. So put me in coach. I'm ready to play. Today. Or maybe tomorrow. But I won't know for another couple weeks, so I'll just wait it out. Again. And keep my fingers crossed that this is the month that I'll become a mother.