The cone of silence

I have fantastic friends. They're supportive, loyal and we tell each other everything. Until now. All of a sudden, there are hushed voices and whispers, innuendos and sidelong glances, all in the name of failed conception.

It's a strange phenomenon, but when people - especially close friends - know you're trying to conceive, they don't want to let you in on the news about others who have successfully achieved pregnancy. I am now the last to hear about friends of friends who are pregnant. Some of my friends have even gone as far as withholding stories, information and anecdotes about their own children.

This, of course, is nothing if not thoughtful. It's kind of like when your friend's relationship is on the rocks, the last thing you want to do is gush about how in love you are. So, I'm writing to say: it's okay. Really. I like hearing about others who have managed to get pregnant. I mean sure, the wildly competitive side of me wishes I had gotten pregnant first, but really, pregnancy is something that should be celebrated, not reduced to petty competition, right...? Right.

Climbing the hill of conception

A Doctor of Chinese Medicine friend of mine said that I should, among other things, hold as many babies as possible while I'm trying to conceive. I'm sure there are studies showing the correlation here, I just haven't found them. However, he said his wife is convinced she got pregnant because she held a friend's baby daily. I believe the theory is that, when holding a baby, your fertility hormones are stimulated. I like this idea. It's nice and nurturing and makes good sense to me, even if I can't find any evidence to support it.

So today, on my regular walk with a dear friend, I embraced my desire to have a baby by, well, embracing a baby - her 10-month-old son, to be precise. I've never actually worn a sling before but we strapped me up and slung him in. And then we walked. Up a really big hill. As he giggled and cooed, I huffed and puffed. And nearly collapsed at the top. Truth be told, it was a small price to pay. As another dear friend of mine so eloquently put it, "I'd spin on my head and spit nickles if I thought it was going to help me get pregnant." That will be on the next walk...