I had spotting this morning, so I called to book follow-up bloodwork for tomorrow. Despite all the reassurances from the clinic, I expect the inevitable. I think I’ve lost pretty much all faith in my body’s ability to stay pregnant and that totally sucks.
I miss the naivety I had when I became pregnant with #1, crediting little more than a discussion about TTC 6mos further down the road. I miss the simplicity of TTC #2 when I identified a cycle problem through charting and “fixed” it with a dietary supplement. I even miss the hope I had post-surgery last year that removing my ovarian cysts would allow me to become pregnant again.
Technically it worked, I suppose, as I’ve gotten pregnant three times since my surgery last October — I just don’t seem able to *stay* that way.
Right now I’m feeling pretty frustrated, discouraged, and generally pissed at my body. To be fair, this isn’t really anything more than I expected when I peed on the stick. It is what happened the last two times and part of me is annoyed that I’m upset about it now, as I was anticipating this. The thing is, though, that it still sucks. I’m trying to embrace that suckiness and move on, but it gets harder each time this happens.
There’s still the smallest chance that this could be nothing, but I’m not holding my breath or hanging on to empty platitudes. I’ll go in tomorrow, get my bloodwork done and then distract myself at Ikea getting a new dining table to replace the set we gave my BIL & SIL. After that, I’ll come home and prepare for Sunday’s “pickle party” as a means of distraction. The clinic will call in the afternoon with the (bad) results, I’ll have a cry, then I’ll pull myself together and go get the kids at school and life will move along as it always does.
I want to stamp my foot and scream right now, though. I’m 33. Getting pregnant shouldn’t be this hard. And, yes, I’m pouting.