Time won't give me time

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There is no doubt that the biological clock tick-tocking away is a tired cliché of a woman's reproductive life. Sure, we are warned by endless media about how our eggs will shrivel up and die by the time we are 35, but my body never felt like it was ticking away. I still look pretty much the same since college, or at least that's what people tell me. As much as my body could blow off that relentless biological message, alas, the mind is a whole other animal. My mental clock has unfortunately absorbed all those warnings and went into overdrive. I told myself starting 2008 that I would not dwell on the past. Nor would I obsess about time. However, I can't help but laugh at how many times over the past couple years I have said "I will never do that," and yet inevitably that turns into a "sure, I'll do that." We don't have the leisure time to say "never." So it's amazing how many miles my mind has travelled while constantly saying to my body "are we there yet?" I remember being so torn up about whether to start clomid. CLOMID! My god it's just a pill. Now I can pretty much at the drop of a hat lie on my back and get ready for my IV drip and spread my legs for probing. I am, in the end, an easily trained monkey. 

So our minds and bodies often have a major disconnect in how we exist. I think we all struggle with our heads convincing us that time is slipping away at exponential speed. Even if I were 25 and having fertility problems I am sure I would still feel like I am running out of time. So when people advise me, "why don't you take some time after this miscarriage?" I would like to show them a peek into my mental biological clock to answer that question. Time won't give me time.