A Different Kind of Trust

When we first started the TTC process – and I started blogging about it here – I talked a lot about trusting my body. I had had severely irregular cycles since I had pretty much started having cycles, and it was not odd for me to go a full year and bleed only once or twice. Since ditching vegetarianism and embracing paleo, I had been surprised by nigh-monthly cycles. I started tracking them, pleased – and somewhat pained – by their sudden abundance.

(Actually: looking back on monthlyinfo, I got my first real period just 10 days after starting my first whole30. Coincidence? …who knows.)

But I only really started paying attention a year ago. Everything seemed relatively normal. When we started this process, I began to fret about the length of my cycles – suddenly they felt like they just stretched on and on. But I told myself to trust my body, that if I ate right and exercised, everything would be hunky dory. I would ovulate, even if it was sometimes a few days later than normal. There was nothing else I could do but trust it would happen.

Fast forward to August and our last attempt before our TTC break. I temped and temped and temped and peed on OPK’s for what felt like forever. My worst fear – that I would return to those highly irregular cycles – was being realized, and with no obvious cause. I told myself again and again to trust my body. That cycle finally ended after 50 days. Surely the next one would be normal, right? Nope… even longer, clocking in at 56 days.

I felt betrayed. But I tried to keep up hope. Then came the two anovulatory cycles and I just couldn’t. I was eating right. I was exercising. I wasn’t particularly stressed. What in Hades’ name was going on?

I started viewing my body with suspicion. I had no trust left. I felt at odds with it, almost at war with it. I might have punished it a few times with a grueling run or workout or too many breads. I was angry and depressed and a whole host of other awful emotions.

And then my wife got sick and I got sick and my grandma died and life was a whirlwind of distractions and actual, horrible things. And in the middle of all that, I ovulated. I had a normal cycle. My body laid out a peace offering.

It said, give me time. Be patient.

I realized I wasn’t actually trusting my body. I was making demands of it. I was saying, here, we have this many days in a cycle and you’re going to ovulate sometime between this day and that day, regardless of how you feel. Because I felt fine, so why shouldn’t my body?

But what if everything wasn’t fine? What if things were off-kilter and my body just needed the time to get things realigned, so that it could be confident everything would go well? There are so very many things that can go wrong in the TTC world and I know that bodies try to mitigate those problems as much as possible. Despite it being my body, I had no idea what was/is going on in there beyond what it tells me.

And what it had been telling me all those months was not now. I don’t know why. I may never know why.

But I can trust that it knows what it is doing.

So that’s it. My trust before was conditional. It had strings. I wasn’t really trusting. But this time I am going to trust my body, trust that it knows when is right and when is wrong. Trust that it is trying to get everything just right, like I am.

And that might mean waiting. That also might mean going to an RE to figure out what we can fix. But I’m going to stop blaming my body. I’m the one ultimately in control of what happens to it, after all. It’s just trying to do its job.



Filed under TTC

3 responses to “A Different Kind of Trust

  1. Beautifully said. And, just the words I needed to read at this moment. That kind of trust is so easy to forget.

  2. When I used to hang out with jugglers regularly, we talked about a phenomenon we called “photonic pressure.” That is, the Murphy’s Law that says when people are watching you try to perform a trick you just learned, you’re gonna screw it up. I see that as analogous to what you’ve observed about your body. You were watching it, so to speak, concentrating on all the details of its behavior, and that made it less likely to “perform the trick” that you expected to see. Maybe if you find yourself more distractions, your body will find its own rhythm and ovulate more predictably?

  3. So many times, way more than I can count, I have had these feelings. Thank you for putting them into the words that I haven’t been able to form. Trust and let it be.. (in some variety of words)

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