It's been one year, four months, a couple of weeks, and several days since I was last pregnant.
In the past sixteen plus months, I have regained myself to some effect. I'm slowly (very slowly) returning to ME. I used to be such a passionate, loving, carefree, funny, somewhat confident, gregarious, ready person. That was all taken with my babies.
However, I am now (after much time ) finally able to smile, laugh, and even experience joy at times. There are times that I sincerely laugh, and I even almost conscientiously forget the pain while laughing and trying to enjoy what life has to offer. It's almost like the laughter helps release some of the pain from my soul. After losing our first three babies in the first year of our marriage, I NEVER thought that would be possible. Never. Ever.
There are also times when I can talk to people (mainly women), and I share our struggles while feeling like maybe this was my purpose. I know deep in my soul that God has purposed me for something. While I NEVER in my life imagined my purpose would entail the pain I have endured through
RPL and IF, I see now that God wants me to share with others. Our struggles, our pain, our diagnoses, our decisions, and our heartache might have actually been God's plan for us to share mercy with others. It needs to be shared with others because there are so many out there who feel as if they are suffering alone. They feel as if nobody has ever been through what they are enduring right now. And, worst of all, they feel alone. I know how they feel. Many of you reading know how they feel. They need to know that they aren't the only ones. They are not alone. There are MANY MANY MANY MANY of us out here. They are not allowed to be alone. Well, at least not for long. I'm here with them all. We all are.
And then again, I may be crazy. Today is CD1. AF is kicking my ass. The hell-cramps are killing me. Seriously kicking my ass.
AF's cruel, evil,
crampy ways
forced me to drink large amounts of wine tonight while hanging with my neighborhood friends. Yes, I blame it on her. The wine with friends doesn't take away the hell-cramp pain. The worst part of all - it doesn't take away the pain of
RPL. It doesn't take away the pain that IF has brought me since then. It does, however, bring me to meet yet another woman who has miscarried before. And another woman that has found a successful pg. And even another one who (through
IVF) had her baby today. Ladies that can bring me a little bit of hope. And then there is, yet another one, who verbalized the fact that once things settle down, "it will
happpen" making me feel a bit deflated and alone - again. Thank goodness my friends Chardonnay and Merlot are still around. Plus, their friends Lay's and Planter's. Good, familiar, and salty forever friends. Of course, there is the stubborn rebounding person that is me. I get through it again.
I've survived (key word: survived) three miscarriages - that's three dead babies. And I'd like to keep it at that. I have become more of me in the past months. I get out of bed. I get dressed. I even shower. I step out the front door. I go out in public. I smile. I talk. I laugh. I spend time with family & friends. I talk about our past. I talk about the hopes for our future. I even walk through the freaking baby department at Target. For some reason, I actually hold on to hope. I endure.
I guess the scariest part of this is that the future is unsure. I'm a woman who thrives on plans and guarantees. I'm great at following through with promises. Promise me something; I'll see it through with you. I'm fiercely loyal in that way - although it's bit me in the ass more than several times before. Plus, my
OCD tendencies kick into high gear whenever I'm uncertain, out of control, and scared.
And then I remember.
Things don't go well when I'm pregnant. I get pregnant -
woohooo! I start spotting at 6w3d -
uhoh. I kill babies in the 8
th week - oh God.
So what if I go through the
Femara, have the
IUI, get pregnant, spot at 6w3d, and lose the baby? Do I go back to square one? Do I go back to where I was? Do I have to spend another year in the black hole - crying, rocking myself, losing hair, bleeding to death, dealing with hormones, losing who I am, explaining it all, crying some more, and falling back to where I have been before? Do I drag my wonderful husband through it all again?
I just worry that the
Femara &
IUI work
fabulously, only to disappoint and reject us again. Where will I go from there?
Is it worth it? Yes.
Having a baby? Of course it is worth it. Most definitely.
Losing another baby? I don't know.
God forbid things work well and we lose it later in the pregnancy. I don't know if I can survive it again. Was I really made to lose baby after baby after baby? I mean . . . hell . . . I've already lost more babies than some women actually deliver. Is that my fate? I've done it before. Have I really done so many terrible, crappy things in my life to deserve it AGAIN? And have I done so many terrible things that my HUSBAND has to endure it all again & again? That's not fair to him.
So that is where my conflict lies right now. Conflict or not, I have to make decisions. Decisions that are best for me. My husband. Our present family. And our future family.
I don't want to go through the pain again. God, please no. But I guess we have to take the risk - again - to see if we actually are blessed to reap the rewards.
I look behind and look ahead. I look back and think, "There is NO WAY that we want to go through
that again." Then I stop and think, "There's not way that we can NOT try again. We need and deserve to have children of our own - to have a family."
And then I freak out again.
CD1.
Femara in two days.
OPKs in 8 days.
IUI soon after..
HPT when it comes. And a pregnancy - up to God.
Lovenox, all the
sonos, more meds, the appointments, the
perinatologist, the injections. I'm scared, excited, hesitant, worried, ready, prepared, panicked, breathless, petrified, and just doing it. Winners don't gain by being chicken. I pray that we are not the chickens that get slaughtered.
I'm slowly regaining myself and returning to me. Oh God, what's next?