Mr. Right and I are not trying to get pregnant.
But... we're not preventing it, either.
A few weeks ago, without any real discussion, we stopped using condoms. Heat of the moment and all, with only one short acknowledgement during which he asked me if I wanted him to suit up.
I said no. Not only because we're both silently letting nature decide, but also because it just feels Sooooo much better.
I'm doing my best not to wonder. I've been terribly exhausted this week. The timing is good. Mah boobies are sore. Headaches, intestinal stuff... all of which can be blamed on ovulation and/or the incredible amount of stress that I'm under at work right now combined with the constant go-go-go of life.
I won't know either way for another two weeks or so, and I'm forcing myself not to acknowledge the possibilities. It apparently takes most couples up to a year to get pregnant; not one month. Maybe I'll get lucky, or maybe I'll be that damn statistic that doctors have warned me about. Either way, I'm trying not to worry. Or wonder. Or hope. Since I'm not anywhere near to Miss GoWithTheFlow, that's challenging.
But fun. And wonderful. And happy. So I'm focusing on how good everything is (because we've come so far and everything is So much better now!) and just enjoying myself. Without pressure. Without my normal, ten page, detailed plan on how to Get Things Done. Yes, they always have timelines. And alternative options if said plan doesn't go the way I want. Resulting in worry and panic and definitive action plans. If life came with a guide book, I'd be standing on street corners giving them away.
Here's to life without a guideline.
[And maybe, just maybe, a spring baby...]