Lowered expectations

In all honesty, I'm more than a little sure that this month isn't going to be "the" month.  And I am such a chronic worrier that in my brain it's already September and I'm not even close to conceiving.  In my brain we've already given up and decided to adopt.  I honestly don't see how women do this for years on end.  I feel like I've wished my entire month away- checking and charting and secretly peeking at baby name websites.  Is this entire year going to go that fast?

And then the other night I had this mild panic attack- nothing major, just in my own head- because I was really nauseous and needed to go to the bathroom (I've been upping my fiber tremendously).  I started to have these AWFUL, intense pains- gas, bloating, etc.- and for the first time I was like, "NO.  Go back.  I don't want this any more.  I don't want this pain for a solid 12 hours or however long it takes me to get through labor.  I'm not strong enough.  Let's just adopt.  I can't do it, I can't handle this!"

And just that quickly the pain was gone.  And it was just me in the bathroom.  And reality set in.  And I realized that this is going to be the most painful thing I've ever experienced in my life.  And then I started to panic again that maybe I WAS pregnant right then and that I wouldn't be able to get out of it at that point.

See what I said?  Full fledged panic attack.  Right there on the potty.  All over a little gas.  Surely I'm not to be trusted with a child.

But I understand that the cool thing about babies is that you grow WITH them.  And you really can't mess them up, if you love them enough.  In the end, I realized God's timing is best.  And my husband is a good man who will see me through the pain and love me all the same.  So maybe we'll give it another go next month.  Because I'm pretty sure this isn't it.