In the stretch of preconception planning that accidentally lasted ten months instead of the expected six, I used the list of things I wouldn’t be able to do while pregnant as a to-do list.
It doesn’t sound like a lot but it kept me busy: I went out to the bar two or three times a month and ate tonnes of sashimi. I pushed myself hard on a local hiking trail which was then far ahead of my fitness level so might have been inadvisable during pregnancy. I soaked in hot tubs whenever I could.
Now that we’re trying, if I hit a setback I usually take a nice hot bath, or split a bottle of wine with a confidante, or climb a little higher on the bouldering wall. Although it pales in comparison to my disappointment, it’s a small commiseration.
The restrictions list isn’t as bad as I thought it would be: pasteurized Brie, tempura and meatless sushi rolls, alcohol-free trips to the bar, and climbing with my new full-body harness are all on the table. But a lot of the things I got out to do “for the last time in awhile” ended up also being the first time in awhile, and now the alternative activities are keeping me social and occupied with my mind off of things some of the time.
As long as I’m not too occupied for sex, anyways.