...Everyone but me. If this motherhood thing were a contest, I would officially have won the consolation prize by this point. "Miss Inconceivability" seems fitting. I'm actually thinking of making myself one of those big blue ribbon sashes with just that moniker splashed across it in glittery letters. In the past three years since my husband and I started trying to have a baby, his sister has had two kids, his brother's wife has had their second child, and are expecting number three, and every married friend has had at least one--most have had two. My close friend J., who just got married this past summer? Yep. Preggers.
So what gives, you may ask? Why no baby joy for us?
That's what I would like to know.
Well, I do know. But it just doesn't seem fair.
After trying for close to a year, I went to my OB to see if anything was wrong. Of course, I had been charting, so I brought them along. It was obvious that I was ovulating, but she wanted to run a series of blood work. According to her, it all came back normal. I was still "young" at 33 (I was 31 when we got married, and 32 when we started 'trying' a few months later) so she told me to go home and keep trying. More time went by, and still nothing happened. Back to the doctor I went for more tests. Dye shot through the tubes, uncomfortable pelvic ultrasound, yadda, yadda, yadda. Normal. So, Mister went in for a test. The test came back with a slightly low number. Still, my doctor said, Mister should have no problem impregnating me, it just might take a while. Keep trying. As we approached year number 2 of trying, we went back. Okay, doc said, try Clomid. Just to increase your chances.
Guess what? First month on Clomid. I got knocked up, for the first time in my life. We were elated. Finally, we thought, our time has come. We went to the doctor. She shook our hands and congratulated us. Did all the necessary tests. Yes I was indeed pregnant and all looked good. Go home and come back in 6 weeks for an ultrasound, and you'll get to see the heartbeat! I went home and read the pregnancy books. I ate all the best foods. No alcohol or coffee, or empty calories. I learned how to cook things like...kale (full of iron and mega vitamins!). I felt great. Tired, but no morning sickness. I had a serious craving for deviled eggs.
When our appointment day came, we were so excited. We couldn't wait to see the heartbeat. My regular doctor wasn't there so we were seen by the midwife. As she began the ultrasound, chewing and popping her chewing gum, she announced, "This doesn't look good." I felt all the blood rush out of my body. "What does that mean?" I queried. There was no heartbeat, she told us very matter-of-factly. Go home and have a miscarriage.
Only I didn't. My body wasn't ready to let go of the pregnancy any more than my mind and heart were. I had waited so long for this. Surely they had made a mistake. I went back a week later and saw my regular doctor. They ran tests, and did more ultrasounds, all confirming the bad news. She scheduled me for a D&C. Two weeks after the heartbeat-less ultrasound, I went into the hospital and had my baby removed from my body. Since the day I'd found out I was pregnant, I figured that would be the hospital I would go to to deliver my baby. Instead, I went in, and came home empty-armed.
I was totally devastated. But everyone told us, "You'll get pregnant again right away!" Or, "My friend's, sister's cousin had a miscarriage, and she got pregnant the next month--with twins!"
So, though I was sad, I held out hope for us, and for Clomid to work its magic again. As soon as the doctor said it was ok to start trying again, we did. With Clomid. Two months on the evil pill, and no pregnancy. I figured something was up. I decided to get a second opinion. From a fertility 'specialist'.
Well, the trip to the the specialist, or Dr. A. Hole, as I like to call him, will be a story for another post.
Thank you for reading.