Acting As If

I was seriously disappointed, without ever realizing I would be, after last month. I hoped against hope that I'd get some kind of cosmic confirmation that the surgery was the final step, and that now that the last hurdles were removed, my body could take over.

This month, I'm acting as if I'm barren as the moon (as Pamela Jeanne so eloquently put it in one of her rip-roaring takes on a mommy article). As if the only way I'll ever get pregnant is to blast my belly with super drugs, and even then maybe not. I doesn't mean I'm doing lines or tequila shots; just telling myself no, sorry, just forget about that possibility. It's been three years, dear, so swallow your pride, suck it up, and do something else until you reach your injection date. Which will likely be August for logistical and economic reasons.

So that's what I've been doing: plowing away at the dis, trying to write about a related wacko topic for an article a friend asked me to submit to the journal she's editing, working for money (what a novel concept!), planting a gazillion potatoes, forcing myself to run up the steep-ass hills near our house. I have no option but to act as if I didn't give a flying rat's ass about my empty womb. And somehow, I feel a lot happier for it.

One thing that triathletes talk about is mental toughness. I think it's like a muscle; you can develop your toughness and cultivate as a resource to get you through the times when you must suffer circumstances out of your control. So I've been working on that. I've learned it's different from browbeating yourself for not doing something or feeling guilty for taking a break. It's about guiding yourself to a place where you can do all you need to do, without that much payback and reward. It's the kind of steadiness that gets you up that hill, even when you would prefer at the moment to keel over panting like a drunk dog. You don't deny it hurts, but you keep going for just a few more moments...