One year

I can't believe it, but it has been one year since I started this blog. Tomorrow is my birthday, which means that I should be cleaning up and preparing things for the party I finally had to organize myself. I'm certainly not happy about that. One year ago I hoped I would have a chubby baby in my arms by this time. I don't. I could have, the due date for the first miscarriage passed this week. But I don't. An I have two more missed due dates to go. They will be hard. I don't have a baby in my arms, but I know more than last week. It turns out that I'm fine. But our chances of carrying a baby to term are slimmer. Apparently little L was our lucky shot. The doc said we have good chances of having more babies. But they want to do all kinds of prenatal testing. And I don't. I won't. Because even in the worst case scenario, I would never terminate the pregnancy. I'm as agnostic as they come, but I have lost three tiny babies. As little as they could be at six weeks of pregnancy, they were my babies. I also won't get pregnant unless I have realistic expectations of having a VBAC. If a c-section is mandatory, I'm out.
We have an appointment with a genetic doctor in two weeks. They wanted to meet this week, but of course Mr Hubby is too busy. Which bugs me. A lot. The doctor made sure to repeat him one hundred times that it is not his fault. I didn't hear anything of the kind when the ball was on my side of the court. Am I pissed? Very much. Do I feel bad for him? Certainly. But when today I got a package with all the forms from the genetic office, I got mad. Because they are addressed at me. Because they include a shiny brochure of all the fancy prenatal tests they can perform. Because I know I'm in for a fight. And one year later, I don't know if it is a fight I can endure. What a lovely birthday I will have. In four hours, I will be thirty.

Incertidumbre

If you thought (as I did) that this sucks, wait until you read the next development. After I don't know how many calls to Dr S's office, trying to get the thyroid medication, the nurse finally called back. Of course, she didn't remember why I called her on the first place. I told her, and she told me she would check my test results, talk to the doctor, and call me back with the prescription. Instead, one hour later the doctor called. She just told me that she want to meet us as soon as possible to discuss some test results. I know something is wrong because the nurse told me that unless there is some red flag they don't give results until they have all the test, hysteroscopy included. And since she called, I asked the doctor if I should assume that there is something wrong. She said yes. We have the appointment for Wednesday, which will make for five very long days. I have already gone through the worst case scenarios: lupus, cancer, not being able to have more kids... It's a defense mechanism. Which won't work. And it will make me crazy. If there is something worse than bad news, is waiting for them in the dark. Arrrrggghhhh!

Mad

I am actually beyond mad. I just realized, that if my cycles do whatever FF expects them to do, my next tiny window for the hysteroscopy is... Thanksgiving!?F*&%# And the next one... Christmas!?@#%$&^**^( You can guess the rest. I went again on Wednesday to have my blood drawn for chromosomal testing. My arm is still sore and tender. And I couldn't even get the flu shot. Not that I want to, I would actually skip it altogether, and I won't get Little L one, but Dr S said it was not open to discussion. I told her I will get it if I can get before I'm pregnant, but that I won't, for anything, get it afterwards.
I had a revealing experience this weekend. I attended a workshop about Spanish feminine short stories, and while analyzing the texts I realized how much my life is focused on infertility right now. I see it everywhere. The funny thing was that my obsession led the well known author who was leading the workshop to talk to me at the end, and I managed to buy her lunch the day after, only to discover that she has also dealt with this kind of issues. Her advice? Stop it. Don't make yourself suffer anymore. Adopt. Not bad. At least she got me writing again, I think I have an idea for a short story book, and I already started. Let's see what happens. Of course, infertility is there. As it is everywhere else. I have nightmares. I have gained at least six pounds in the last three weeks. I'm anxious, all the time. I'm not smoking because I don't feel like it (weiiiiird). So I eat. All the time. Constantly. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet... It's disgusting. I want to stop. I had managed to lose some weight over the last months... Gaining it back in mere weeks doesn't seem like a good idea. I guess I need my therapist. A lot. Or a baby. But that will not happen in at least a couple of months. Sigh.