To me worrying is like breathing – it’s autonomic. I worry, therefore I am. And, if worrying is your thing (like it is mine), infertility is a veritable smorgasbord of worry because there are so many things to worry about! Are my eggs good quality, does he make enough sperm, are my tubes open, will my uterus behave, will my eggs and his sperm play nicely? Like most things that we worry about, we either don’t know the answer or can’t change the outcome of the answer, which heightens the worry even more. It’s enough to make you hyperventilate at the mere thought.
Fighting the urge to worry is like fighting the urge to breathe. But, while one thing is required for you to live (breathing, in case you thought otherwise), the other is not. And so, I am diligently weaning myself off the Worry. Giving up booze and caffeine have been a walk in the park compared to this. But, I’ll tell you, earlier this week, I reached a milestone. I got bored with worrying. I realized (rightfully) that at this point, everything is out of my hands and in my uterus. Add whatever Doris Day line you wish here, but I know that the best thing I can do now is just not worry. I have also finally accepted that worrying, in fact, does no good.
I gave myself permission not to worry and it’s been wonderful.