You may not have noticed, but I am a fairly rigid person. I like to know things in advance, and I don't particularly like surprises. And, despite the ranting I do here, I actually tend to believe the things that doctors tell me, even when I know they're just spouting conjecture.
So one of the more difficult things about this whole ectopic/messy tubes saga for me has been the fact that I just don't know where I stand. Am I infertile? Am I just a somewhat unlucky fertile person? Have my recent pregnancies been flukes, or just normal events subsequently destroyed by flukes? I don't know, and the not knowing both infuriates me and kind of paralyzes me. In the absence of any real knowledge, the opinions of the pessimistic doctor keep swirling in my head. When I asked her if The Boy and I should be using protection, she said there was no need to -- I wasn't going to get pregnant anyway, and if I did, then great. As a result, I find myself half convinced that there's no chance we're having a baby without IVF, and there's no point in even trying.
The Boy, on the other hand, suffers no such doubts. In his mind, we're perfectly fertile until we're proven otherwise. As such, he wants to start trying again now that my body seems to be back on track, hormonally speaking. I'm willing to go along, because nothing would make me happier than a pink stick (ok, an actual baby born at term would make me much, much happier). But I still can't shake this mental drumbeat of "it's not gonna work. You're not going to get pregnant." I wish I had The Boy's optimism, but at the same time, I'm wondering how he can possibly be such a Pollyanna about this whole thing. He was actually disappointed when my cycle returned last week. He'd been hoping I'd be pregnant already. When he told me this, I was torn between wanting to hug him and wanting to slap him. Hasn't he been paying attention? Didn't he hear the doctor say she doesn't think we can get pregnant (ok, he didn't actually hear, because he wasn't there. But I told him!) What makes him think we can have a baby?
At this point, The Boy does have past experience on his side. Even with bad tubes, I have never had a problem getting pregnant. It's the staying that's been an issue. But somehow, I can't seem to keep sight of that fact. It's like the doctor's opinion has become immutable fact in my head. I hope it doesn't turn out to be some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy.
In happier news, we've now been back from vacation for two weeks, and I'm pleased to report that my efforts to keep the house presentable have been largely successful. I've been keeping up on my daily laundry and basic maintenance schedule, and have been fitting in more detailed chores when I can. I've even managed to make the bed every single day, a feat that I haven't accomplished since I was a live-in nanny and was expected to do so.
The best thing is, The Boy has noticed my efforts and has been really great about helping out. If he sees me picking up M's toys, he lends a hand. And he's been much more conscientious about picking up after himself, which makes everything easier.
The only thing I can't seem to get a handle on is my kitchen. It's the center of the house, where everything and everyone seems to congregate. I feel like no sooner have I gotten the counter top cleared than a wave of clutter rematerializes. I easily spend as much time in the kitchen alone every day as I spend on the entire rest of the house combined. What am I missing? How do I keep this mess at bay? I'd be extremely grateful for any tips from people less inclined to slobbery than I am.