When I last wrote months ago, J and I were in the second half of our last “natural” (aka clomid-assisted) cycle before we would make the switch to IUI. I was debating about whether to start Metformin (never did it). I was feeling pretty pessimistic. And then, at the very end of July, we got a positive pregnancy test. And despite the obvious burst of hope, I shifted from feeling pessimistic to feeling pessimistically panicked. I kept waiting to see blood. Or to see/feel nothing, but then go in for an ultrasound and not see a heartbeat. I had some minor spotting really early on and I was convinced it was over. But when we went in for the first ultrasound at six and half weeks, we saw a heartbeat. And again at 7 ½. And 8 ½. And then we made it past the points of the previous two miscarriages. And then we made it out of the first trimester. And now here we are at 16 weeks.
We feel incredibly grateful. But I still can’t get to a point of believing that this might really end well. Simultaneously, I can’t believe that it won’t – it’s as if my brain just won’t allow me to go to either place.
Each time we go to the doctor, which has been fairly frequently so far, but which is supposed to be only monthly for a while now if I can handle it, I manage to convince myself that we’re about to learn the worst. So far, thank god, we haven’t. We’re holding our breath – between appointments, until each new milestone – and I suspect that this is how we will continue. We’re not planning, or talking names very seriously, or telling anyone we don’t absolutely need to tell. I’m thinking of the end of 2012 as a turning point; if we make it that far, we’ll start trying to move forward and plan a bit for a baby.
At 16 weeks, my back is hurting on and off, I have occasional abdominal achiness, and fairly frequent headaches. My doctor is unconcerned about all of the above and I’m trying (and often failing) to trust her. I’m not showing, but my clothes are tight. Every time we have an ultrasound, we ask the technician (who is incredible and understanding) to turn off the large screen until she finds a heartbeat. And each time we see this baby (who really does look like a baby now) moving around in there, we are in awe. I’m just not able to trust the future of this pregnancy yet; hopefully that will come with time.
I apologize for keeping quiet for so long. I started the new, totally demanding job when I was just 7 weeks pregnant, so in addition to being hesitant to write/talk/think about the pregnancy, I’ve been pretty busy. I’m hoping to post more often now… and to hold onto the possibility that this pregnancy will be the one. But no matter how this particular chapter of our story ends, infertility and recurrent pregnancy loss have and will continue to shape me, my life, and the way I will one day parent.
It Goes On 