Next year is coming, as it always seems to do. But we’re closer to 2011, and closer to my thirtieth birthday. My mother had me when she was twenty-nine, and I always sort of thought I’d have a baby around the same time. I always thought I’d keep my size six figure past college, too — so it’s not like I’m a stranger to disappointment.
Heh. Size six. Heh. Amazing that I’ve gotten over it.
Next year is going to be a great year. I can feel it. My husband and I have walked over fire, and are finally enjoying the tan, not the burn. The other night, we were talking before bed, and he said next year we’ll be pregnant. And I believe him. He’s >–thisclose–< from Bar admittance, and we’re both moving our careers forward. My doctor wants me to add a medication in January that would get me ready for pregnancy.
It makes me incredibly nervous to think of stopping lithium. I’ve been taking lithium for nearly seven years and it’s one of my best friends. Adding a new pill, in order to stop taking lithium during pregnancy, is a smart choice. And I hope it will work. I think.