Conception 101

I decided to blog about conceiving a baby.

Then I changed my mind because someone said: “Your blog is full of TMI!”

TMI?

Too much information.

But I changed my mind again because – Earth to Jenny – writing about personal issues comes with the territory of first person writing.

Besides, the topic of conceiving is ripe with avenues to explore. And fertility problems seem to be a national epidemic. I’m here to help. (Help as in, if you’re one of these gals struggling to get knocked up, you’re not alone.)

Actually, I have no idea if I’m infertile or if my husband and I just have terrible timing. For a year, we’ve been trying-but-not-trying. No baby. And that's okay. I’ve lived most my life as a wadded up ball of stress, so I purposefully adopted a Type-B approach to baby-making.

Hey little peanut, whenever you want to arrive, feel free. The womb’s open for business.

Much better than attempting to control when, where, how, and what, right?

Not according to others.

My intellectual friends said: Buy the book Taking Charge of Your Fertility!

My practical friends said: Buy a $200 ovulation kit and a $50 package of sticks to pee on!

My mom said: You should worry about your biological clock!

My doctor said: Buy the book Taking Charge of Your Fertility and the test kit. Oh, and moms are always right – you should be FREAKED OUT about your biological clock!

My metaphysical friends said: Visualize!

Hmm.

My husband, bless his heart, said: “Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready."

Love him. I know he's been waiting on me to give the green light since our honeymoon three years ago. He's patiently listened as I've obsessed over the question: How do I know when I'm ready? Am I ready now? Now? What about now?

The other day, I felt ready.

Sitting on the floor, I crossed my legs, lengthened my spine, turned my palms to the ceiling.

“What are you doing?” Ron asked.

“Taking charge of my fertility,” I said. The book is in the mail, the ovulation kit is in the bathroom, and it’s time to go woo-woo. Bye-bye Type B.

“C’mon! Sit! We’ll meditate,” I said. “We’ll take deep breaths. We’ll visualize your sperm wiggling into my egg. We’ll chant: ‘I am pregnant, I am pregnant.’” (It’s important to utter affirmations in the present tense).

I began OM-ing.

“We could try this the old fashion way,” Ron said.

I opened my left eyelid and looked at him. “Have sex?”

“I meant prayer!”