Rollercoasters and boardwalks

January 28, 2012 at 10:22 am (Intro)

I had the pleasure of living about 10 minutes away from Santa Cruz for 3 years, and whenever anybody heard that I lived near there, one of the first questions that I would get was “Do you go to the Boardwalk?” Everybody knows about the iconic Santa Cruz Boardwalk. They can envision the smell of carnival foods, hear the midway noises of bells ringing and barkers calling; but most of all, they can see the Giant Dipper, the large red rollercoaster that is the most recognizable symbol of the boardwalk. 

The thing about having a tourist attraction down the road from you is that you forget to go.  I went to the boardwalk maybe twice a year, at the most, and it wasn’t to sun on the beach or to ride the rides, usually it was to just go mini-golfing. But when I could find a friend who wanted to go to the carnival part of the boardwalk, I’d normally try to get them to ride the Big Dipper with me.  See, I used to really like roller coasters, not the huge, screaming metal, spin you upside down a dozen times, roller coasters that left you feeling like you’d left your stomache 10 spins back, but I enjoyed ones that twisted you this way and that, jerking you first one way and then the other, toss in a few slow creaky climbs, and at least two steep plummets.  But I’m not such a fan anymore.

My everyday life has turned into enough of a roller coaster that I am not really tempted to voluntarily ride the big ones anymore.  Each and every month I find my mind and body conspiring to twist me around, leaving me hopeful, and then dashed as I watch my temperatures make a slow creaky climb and then steeply plummet, as I feel symptoms that I recognize from last June when I got the second line, but then a heart-breaking return to reality when there are not lines for this month. 

If you ask anybody who is trying to get pregnant unsuccessfully, you’ll find that many feel the same way.  The slowly rising feelings of hope and excitement that you tell yourself not the get too excited about, saying that it’s too early to know, too soon to tell, can’t test quite yet, and then when you realize that it still isn’t your turn, the swift and painful fall back to reality when your period returns or your temperatures drop back lower and lower, coming to rest when they started, ready for the next go round; it’s an emotional roller coaster that is suffered mostly alone, or with just one or two around you.

At a theme park you can see somebody with their hair mussed, clothes a bit disheveled, walking not quite straight, and you can smile and ask how the roller coaster was, but for those who are TTC, it’s all internal. Nobody can really see the quick calculations you make when your thermometer beeps at 6:30 a.m., or feel the analysis you make of each symptom your body produces every day in your cycle. It’s an inside battle. 

I am fortunate enough to have a supportive husband who is a very active partner in the TTC process. (insert chuckles here) More than just that part though, he wakes up every morning with me, hands me the thermometer, and records our data.  He doesn’t always understand what it means, but he knows enough to see the patterns, to be hopeful, to make jokes about it with me, and when we see the drop that means another month of no luck, he’s wise enough to hug me and say he loves me and there’s always next month.  He knows without saying that I don’t really want to talk about it, just to be held.  I’m so very blessed to have him.  He doesn’t like roller coasters either, never has actually.

I was asked by a close friend about why I write all of this down, what’s the point.  And the only answer that I had was that it’s a way for me to process everything, and to maybe help somebody else.  With the exception of one share on facebook a year ago and one friend in real life who reads this, my blog is absolutely anonymous.  Hubs and I talked before I started writing personal stuff and although he’s relatively private, he agreed with this as long as it was fairly anonymous, and I can accept that. So to the dear, wide world out there, I saw thank you for listening and enjoy the ride of life.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: