I’ve never really believed in fate, in something being destined, or meant to be. I never thought I was meant to meet my partner, or even have my daughter, thought I was very grateful, and felt incredibly lucky, to do both.
Then this pregnancy happened, and I had something in my life that I truly felt was meant to be.
I still don’t really know how this pregnancy happened. Everyone tells me I don’t know when I ovulated. When my hcG came back so high everyone assured me I must have ovulated earlier than my chart suggested. When the baby was measuring 10 days ahead my doctor also assured me I must have ovulate (much) earlier than I originally thought (even though the first two scans measure me at EXACTLY where my chart said I should be). Everyone is so sure that I ovulated earlier than I think I did, except I only had sex on time that month, in fact I think I only had sex one time in the four weeks before or after that positive pregnancy test. So it seems pretty clear to me (as ignorant as I might be about these things) that I had to have ovulated around that time. Even if my chart is off, I had to have ovulated only four days earlier, but it seem strange that my temperature stayed so even (and below the cover line) before jumping four days later.
The truth is, no matter when I actually ovulated, it seems like a miracle that we managed to get pregnant. If I did ovulate when I think I did, MV’s bum sperm hung around for four days in my cervical-mucus-free vagajay before my egg showed up, ready and willing. If I did ovulate when we had sex, my hormones were so messed up that they didn’t register a spike in temperature for quite a few days. Either way, it was less than ideal conditions, and yet I managed to get knocked up. As someone who had perfectly timed sex for over twelve perfect cycles and nothing but BFNs to show for it, the irony of getting pregnant on such a weird cycle is not lost on me.
For that reason I have a sense that this pregnancy is meant to be. I’m not saying this baby is meant to be a part of our family, but I do believe this pregnancy was meant to be. No matter what happens, whether this baby arrives happy and healthy or not, I do believe I was meant to experience this particular pregnancy. Even if it ends in a loss, I believe I was meant to survive that loss. It’s strange because I don’t really believe this baby was MEANT to be a part of our family if he or she does arrive safely, but I do believe I was meant to experience this pregnancy, for better or for worse.
That belief brings me a considerable measure of peace. When I start to let my fears run away with me, I remember how fated this pregnancy seems to be. Having come to be under less-than-ideal circumstances, I just have to believe this was meant to happen, whatever “this” ends up being.
I’m sure this sounds silly to some. Maybe it does to everyone. Maybe this is just a mechanism my subconscious has invented to help me manage my anxiety during this pregnancy. Maybe it is just a silly story that I tell myself. I’ve never believed in fate or kismet before–I don’t know why I’d suddenly start now–but deep in my heart I do believe this pregnancy was meant to be. And that gives me the strength to accept whatever might come of it.