There was a plan.
I had an appointment at the gynecologist in June. I would get a six-month prescription on my birth control, and once that lapsed, I would be off the pill, beginning our journey in trying to conceive.
Six months seemed endless. Unnecessary. We were ready now. Well, I was ready now.
And, then my appointment came. And, accidentally I walked away with a three-month prescription. And, we got a puppy. And, well, three months was not long enough. We are not ready.
And, as we drove along one day, words spilled out of my month – telling my husband that maybe we should wait longer. Another three months. And, he jumped at the chance. And, the next day, I cursed my rambling mouth.
But, that’s the plan now. I have a doctor’s appointment to get my last six-months of pills. The last six months of ingesting a little pink pill every day. The last six months about us. Only us. And, well the puppy.
And, I’m equal parts excitement and terrified. Excited we are closer to embarking on this journey. Terrified about the path of trying to conceive and all the unknowns.
Here’s to the next six months of us not trying. And, I’m going to enjoy it.