Counting down? Yeah it's getting old

Hello friend.

Two more days and I will voluntarily take myself into an office about 2 minutes' drive from where I work and smile cheerfully while making small talk with a lady who will stick a big-ass shiny needle in my arm and suck out a vial of blood.

Yes, that's right, I am still on that IVF rollercoaster. Remember that one? Haha.

I must admit that the rollercoaster has certainly hit the languid phase these past few weeks. I'm sure I saw a documentary once about the thought that goes into the design of rollercoasters and how it was crucial that they had ups and downs, both in a physical and figurative sense: kind of like a metaphor for life, man. So there should be so many metres of track that were thrilling, so many metres that were frightening and so many metres that were...languid, subdued, the storm's calm canary.

Right now I am filled to the brim with excitement and the thought of...possiblity. I can once again feel the beginnings of a slow build to what I hope will be a thrill.

I keep imagining myself pregnant, a few months from now, looking back on these posts, reading through them and remembering how uncertain I was.

It feels different this time. First of all I honestly feel a lot calmer - well, today, at this moment, I do. I guess my head is not all stuffed to overflowing with scientists reports, embryo gradings, appointment times, cycle times, medication, instructions etc etc etc!

I mean, some of that is there, sure...but it's not new and freaky this time.

Secondly, this marks about the fifth straight day of dedicated exercise. Now, I like to be active every day. But that normally means a 25 minute walk and not a lot else, well, not outdoors anyway...

But lately I have been consumed with a bizarre urge to run, to get my heart pumping, to sweat and to push further than I normally would on a bike ride.

It's crazy. I am someone who hates hills - both as a pedestrian and a cyclist. I do not like doing the huffy puffy while wearing sneakers and trackies and, frankly, I don't like to run unless someone is chasing me.

But there I was the other night, yes, in the dark (such was my weird commitment) running up the street. Truthfully, I do walk-run-walk-run-walk-run, but I do run.

Anyway, I remember a moment during that run when a voice popped into my head.
"Stop," it said. "You should stop now and just walk the rest of the way home. Your breathing is getting quite laboured, is that a stitch starting to form in your chest? You might twist your ankle on a rogue bit of branch that has fallen on the path, just stop."

But then, some other random voice I don't believe I have heard before said: "Do not stop. Eyes up, look ahead and focus on the end of the road. Now go."

Well I was so shit-scared at the obvious indication that I had the Commando Army trainer from Biggest Loser in my head, that I sprinted the whole way home.

It does feel like I am suddenly training for some Olympic event...well some regional masters amateur athletics carnival...where I am the only one entered in my own category. I feel like I am in training. I feel driven to get my body prepared.

Will it work? Will it help this time?

I was going to write, will it make a difference. But I don't think that's a good way of looking at it.

I know from being a parent for more than two years that you can and will give yourself a one-way ticket to Crazy Town (with a stopover in Mental Hills) if: you take the word of every "well-meaning" advice offerer as gospel and if you think that various questionable sources of so-called reliable information (random forum postings anyone?) are, well, reliable.

Do what feels right at the time, I say. Do what matches your values and what you are 98% sure will have a positive impact on the situation/child/your body/whatever.

Life is nothing but guesswork. Inform those guesses with as much good quality information you can and you'll be fine.