We went the natural route this month…no big symptoms this month thus far, but ya never know, I suppose.  F and I are trying not to burst into flames here in Texas.  It’s been so hot-n-humid that it takes my breath away when I have to venture outside.  Nasty, I tell ya. 

I drove up to my parents’ home in East Texas a couple of weeks ago, if only for twenty-four hours.  I would have liked to have stayed for a little while longer, but it couldn’t happen this last time.  I went up there after my mom told me that three of her cousins were coming to visit for one day only, and she asked if I could please drive to Lufkin to visit with them too. 

It’s pretty funny, because F was convinced a bit concerned that I was going up there to meet with my mom and her cousins and then head to Louisiana to go gambling.  Ha!  Not hardly… these ”girls”, as one of the ladies called themselves, were 70+ years old.  These sweet ol’ gals were hardly the slot machine type.  They were worn out by their trip to my mom’s, and I frankly don’t think they could’ve made it another fifteen minutes in the car. 

We had a very pleasant time, catching up on times past, especially their memories of my grandparents and great-grandparents.  I got to see a cool book that one of the “girls” had created about her family on her own computer.  Her book included pictures of my great-grandparents that I’d never seen before, which was a neat thing.  This book wasn’t a professional job, by any means, but I could tell that she’d spent a great deal of time researching her stories, scanning the pictures, and assembling it all into order.  It was a labor of love.

Perhaps one day I will pursue a labor of love along those lines.  I think it would be great to pull all of the memories together that my aunts, uncles, cousins, and my immediate family have of my great-grandparents, my grandparents, Mom, and her brothers and sisters as they were growing up in Central Texas and later in the Houston area.  Mom’s oldest living brother in particular has many, many fantastic stories about growing up as a child of my grandparents. 

Grandmama was an awesome woman, in my opinion.  Some of the stuff she dealt with - a child with epilepsy, a husband whose big heart turned out to also be a weak heart, and children whom she outlived - are the kind of life-altering events that most of us pray we never have to face.  Her eldest son, the man whose first name I share, later died in the same way as his father.  I was truly worried that Uncle Buddy’s (again, not his real name) massive heart attack was going to kill her, but she lived on, still taking care of her youngest son who lived with her until the day she died.  When her oldest daughter was diagnosed with liver cancer, and Grandmama saw another beloved child fading before her very eyes, she again was devastated by how cruel it was for a parent to outlive her offspring.

As far as anyone knows, Grandmama never drank a drop of alcohol, and she cursed just one time in her entire life.  She was a short little thing, about 5′1″ tall, and one time, Grandmama was unfortunate enough to be bending over to get something out of a lower cabinet while someone had left an upper cabinet open.  Of course, when she stood up, she whacked her head really hard on the corner of said upper cabinet door.  Apparently, there was a deafening silence while people held their breaths, until one of her sons asked her, “you all right, ‘Dessa Mae?”  When she managed to say yes, those folks who were within earshot of it began to release their suppressed laughter after finding out she hadn’t been mortally wounded.  Grandmama was still in a considerable amount of pain as she jokingly said, “Well damn, I’m glad y’all found out I was going to live before you laughed.”

Grandmama died on cold day in December 1997, just a couple days after Christmas.  When my sister and I went to talk to her preacher before her funeral service, her preacher asked us what were some of the things about this remarkable 87-year-old woman that would be remembered by those who knew her.  The first thing two words that simultaneously came out of both of our mouths was “her laugh”.  There was no way in the world for my grandmama to hide when something tickled her, because her whole body shook when she laughed.  She had an incredible sense of humor, and God, how I loved to hear and see her laugh at something. 

I think about her often, and wonder what she would’ve had to say about F, and about our infertility problems.  If she’d been around for our wedding, she wouldn’t have been able to not cry, especially since she would’ve known that I was going to move up to Washington state with F the very next day.  I know she would’ve cried to hear of our miscarriage, because she was a very tenderhearted lady, and because she lovedlovedloved her grandchildren.  It may sound bizarre, but the thought that she and my husband’s grandmother were in Heaven waiting to take care of our baby and shower it with all of the bajillions of kisses we would have bestowed upon our little one was one of the main reasons I could still function immediately following our miscarriage.  It’s one of the reasons I could still manage to breathe as the pain  and sheer grief threatened to cut off my supply of air.     

I never knew my grand-daddy, but he must’ve been a pretty spectacular man.  His mother was Native American - Comanche, to be exact.  His birth certificate says that his race was “Native”.  In that day and age, he never, ever wanted anyone to know that he was “Indian”; he’d fight anyone who said he was anything other than White.   He is the person I have to blame for my unruly, curly hair. 

The only way I know him is through the stories that others have told and retold about him.  At the same time, he was both a gentle soul to his grandchildren, and ”one of the meanest SOBs that ever played baseball”.  He had a nasty temper, but was generous enough to give a person the shirt off of his back. 

I regret that I myself have no memories of him; Grand-daddy died of a massive heart attack just six months after I was born.

Geez, I’m sorry I’m not an everyday blogger.  Matter of fact, I haven’t even been a weekly one, or even biweekly.  My apologies, folks.  I’ll try to do better, ‘k?  I really will try.

The good news is that I finally had my period again after my miscarriage.  Yay.  It wasn’t as bad as I imagined it would be, which makes me happy. 

F and I are both eager to get back on the ol’ baby-making horse, but are going to wait to use medical intervention until my next period…dammit.  Two Three reasons, actually, but they’re definitely related.  The first reason:  money.  Yes, I know, we still have some of the meds from before I got pregnant, and that’s beyond wonderful, trust me.  However, Dr. S and I decided that my ovaries could stand some more stimulation, in the form of a larger dose of said meds.  Good news?  I have most of the meds already.  Bad news?   I don’t have the remainder of the Gonal-F I’d need to have on hand to complete the med cycle, nor do we have the available fundage for said injectible platinum.  (Okay, it’s not really platinum, but you get the gist.) 

Second reason, and the main cause of Reason #1?  F was sick, and didn’t get to work for 2+ weeks.  It’s getting to be like our frickin’ summer thing…I get out of school, start making plans to go places, do things, and then F gets sick for at least two weeks, and All Things come to a halt.  Y’see, F drives a truck for a living these days, and when F doesn’t drive, he doesn’t get paid.  Now, he and I aren’t the best at saving money, by a long shot.  I’d much rather have someone else cook than for me to do it, hands down.  That’s (sadly) our main source of wasted money, to my way of thinking - eating out / take out.  But, we have wayyyyy too much debt, and buggered credit, to say the least.  During those weeks when F doesn’t work, the bills still seem to keep coming, damn them. 

We try to survive on just my meager teacher paycheck.  That in itself is trying, but add in several visits to doctors, several trips to the pharmacy to get meds, and the usual grocery extravaganzas, and you can practically hear the sucking sound as the money leaves our puny checking account.  Now, of course - when we’re broker than broke - would be when I start my period, and when I’d need to go and purchase about $500 worth of Gonal-F, if F and I were going to try to Create a Life Through Modern Chemistry.  Ummm, not going to happen this month.  It simply can’t.  Dammit. 

Reason #3, you may be asking?  Well, F had a weird spot showing up in his chest xray, and after an inconclusive MRI, and had to take some radioactive sugar to try to see what was going on in his body.  He was supposed to get a PET scan, and the contrast stuff contained radioactive sugar (iodine, I think).  Pity he was too claustrophobic to go through with it, poor thing.  Exposure to radioactive stuff, all for naught.  He had to go get a broncioscopy procedure instead. 

I thank God that the doc didn’t see anything out of the ordinary during the bronchioscopy, but there is still something weird that shows up on his chest xray.  I don’t know, and neither do the docs, but they say it is NOT cancer.  At least this has (hopefully) convinced F that he needsneedsneeds to STOP SMOKING!!!  The doctor told him that there’s no permanent damage in his lungs right now, and that if he quits, they will stay healthy.  F says he’s cutting down, but I can’t tell that he has.  I just continue to hope and pray he quits.  God Almighty, I’m sick of everything we own reeking of it, plus all of the money that literally goes up in ashes.  When I think if it, it makes me ill.  I know, make everything be about myself.  I am truly a drama queen.  Sheesh. 

Still, I wonder sorts of effects the radioactive solution he drank had on his swimmers.  I need to ask about that when he goes to the doc this Wednesday.  I don’t want us to be trying the old fashioned way if there’s any danger that his guys could have been affected by the radiation, ya know?  I know that the doc said that the radioactivity only lasted about 24 hours tops, but still.  It’s not like it only stayed in his chest area, if you know what I mean.  We don’t need the added stress of worrying whether or not this batch of swimmers glow in the dark.  Suffice it to say that I’ll feel much better about trying naturally if there’s a reduced chance of mutation as a result of radiation.   

The doctor did say that F suffers from a severe B12 deficiency.  He’s now going in weekly for a B12 injection, but after this Wednesday, I’ll be giving the shots to him.  That ought to help save us a bit of cash - I hope. 

I often think about my former pregnancy, and in which week or month I’d be if I still were expecting.  Still, when F and I had this scare, it made me think that things do happen for a reason, even if we don’t see the reasoning at the time.  I can’t imagine how we would’ve handled this financially if I’d been pregnant too.  Am I a monster for thinking this way??  God knows, I would love to still be pregnant!  Could I have handled the stress without inflicting damage upon those I love??  Without that Xanax I took that Friday night to help me sleep during the weekend four or five days before he had his PET scan scheduled? 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m made of pretty strong stock.  I can usually handle almost anything.  Usually.  But, when it comes to my family, I worry myself into a non-sleeping tizzy, to say the least.  I would lie in bed, cry to myself, and worry.  No fun at all, kids.  I sincerely don’t recommend this.  I mentioned to my mom that I hadn’t slept, and she gave me a couple of her Xanax “to help me get some sleep”.  I’m not the kind of person that usually pops pills to turn my brain off, but in this case, when it was staying on a spin cycle of nasty, ugly thoughts every night when I was supposed to be sleeping??  Hell yeah, I’ll take something.  If that makes me a wimp, so be it… but it did help, if only for that night.

Howdy y’all,

I just found this fun game on Single Mommy By Choice’s website, and I thought I’d throw this in for shiggles.  Play if ya wanna. 

iPod meme.

The Rules

1. Put Your iTunes/ music player on Shuffle
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. You must write that song name down, no matter what!!

The Questions

1. If someone says “Is this OK?”
“The Rest of Mine” – Trace Adkins

2. What would best describe your personality?
“Yearning (Just For You)” – Asleep At The Wheel

3. What do you like in a guy/girl?
“Could You Be Loved” – Bob Marley & The Wailers

4. How do you feel today?
“Testify” – Stevie Ray Vaughn

5. What is your life’s purpose?
“Dirty Pool” – Stevie Ray Vaughn (Really??)6. What is your motto?
“Three Little Birds” – Bob Marley & The Wailers  (Seriously??)

7. What do your friends think of you?
“It’s You I Love” - BeauSoleil

8. What do you think of your parents?
“Another Sad Love Song” – Toni Braxton

9. What do you think about very often?
“Leavin’ Comin’ On” – Mark Wills

10. What is 2+2?
“Talking In His Sleep” – Toni Braxton  (Y’all are going to start thinking I only have about 12 CDs recorded onto here…sheesh.)

11. What do you think of your best friend?
“Favourite Shirts (Boy Meets Girl)” – Haircut 100

12. What do you think of the person you like?
“Don’t You Throw That Mojo On Me” – Wynonna featuring Naomi Judd & Kenny Wayne Shepherd

13. What is your life story?
“Forever Night Shade Mary” – Latin Playboys

14. What do you want to be when you grow up?
“Heaven Help My Heart” – Wynonna Judd  (I swear, I do have more than 12 CDs on this thing!)

15. What do you think when you see the person you like?
“No Man’s Land” – Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band

16. What do your parents think of you?
“Neon Blue” – The Mavericks

17. What will you dance to at your wedding?
“The Killing of Georgie (Parts 1&2)” – Rod Stewart

18. What will they play at your funeral?
“Moon Over Bourbon Street” - Sting

19. What is your hobby/interest?
“His Name Is Lancelot” – Original Cast Recording of ‘Spamalot’ - LOL

20. What is your biggest secret?
“Heat Wave” – Linda Ronstadt

21. What do you think of your friends?
“Mercy Street” – Peter Gabriel

22. What should you post this as?
“To The Moon & Back” – Savage Garden

Hey all,

Thanks very much for all of you who have wandered onto this blog courtesy of NCLM.  I honestly had the best of intentions when I signed onto that challenge, and promptly buggered it all to hell and gone.  It’s not like I intended to be a person who purposely broke her pledge to visit lots and lots of sites, and comment on every one of them.  Honest, that wasn’t my intention. 

Like a goober, I foolishly thought that I’d manage to bounce back and be my usual pithy self while NCLM was clicking along.  Somehow, that really didn’t happen.  In a way, I’m kind of glad I didn’t jump right back into doing all of the things I’d normally do, because it shows me that I am human after all.  Who knew?

Physically, I seem to be just as healthy as I was before the miscarriage, albeit heavier, what with massive quantities of comfort food and all.  Mentally, I’m less stressed, now that summer break is here where I teach.  Emotionally…I give myself a B-. 

I do fine, as long as I don’t hear an infant crying…or don’t see an infant crying…or don’t see a little one doing something cute or adorable.  Occasionally, my heart breaks all over again when I see something or hear something, or think of something that reminds me that I ought to be in my second trimester now, with a child due in December.  Once in a while, something will trigger a response in me where I again realize that The Baby That Was will never experience certain things that I so wanted him or her to experience, or, that I will never get to witness him/her experiencing said certain things. 

The fantastic mail I keep getting, with the lovely ads and cutesy baby mags are a not-so-pleasant experience, but I now take it in stride.  I have a cabinet where I keep these things, just in case I ever do have a real, live, take-home baby.  After all, lots of supposed experts about my frickin’ life, ignorant assholes people have told me that it could still happen, especially since I did manage to get pregnant this last time.  I could “just get pregnant again”.  Easy peasy, doncha know. 

Oh yeah.  I’m waiting again.  This time, I’m waiting for my body to figure out that it’s okay to reboot and start my periods over again.  The miscarriage happened the week following Mother’s Day, back in May.  Still no sign of Our Least Favorite Aunt.  Actually though, I wish she’d bloody well (pardon the pun) show, already, so that we can get things back on track. 

F and I do want to try again, and as we all know…this ol’ gal ain’t gettin’ any younger.  So while we’re waiting for my body to catch its snap, I wait.  I plan to call my RE’s office tomorrow, to find out what my beta level was when I had it drawn back on June 9th.  Maybe that will help jog my ute’s memory…

“Oh yeah…vamplita needs me to start bleeding again…perhaps it’s time, before her last eggs wither away to nothing…” 

I hope this post leaves y’all with a sense that I’m on the mend, ’cause I am.  I do feel okay, and I know that it really, honestly could happen again.  I really could get pregnant again.  It doesn’t necessarily have to take another eight years. 

Right??

Since NaComLeavMo began, I’ve been reading some new blogs and getting several hits on mine - thanks! Kimbosue was kind enough to tag me (weeks ago - sorry y’all) and allow me a chance to give my visitors, new and not-so-new, a little insight about me.

A - Attached or Single: Attached
B - Best Friend(s): hubby, Becky, Patti
C - Cake or Pie: Pie - key lime, to be precise
D - Day of Choice: Friday
E- Essential Item: Sweet tea
F - Favorite Color(s): Green
G - Gummy Bears or Worms: Gummy Bears
H - Hometown: Llano, TX
I - Indulgence(s): World of Warcraft, more’s the pity
J - January or July: January
K - Kids: 2 of the furry persuasion - Daisy the beagle, and Comet the St Bernard mix
L - Life is incomplete without: my husband and my family
M - Marriage Date: 7/1/2000
N- Number of Siblings: 1 younger sister named Becky
O - Oranges or Apples: Apples
P- Phobias or Fears: arachnophobia, fear of eight-legged critters - They’re an abomination, I tell ya.
Q- Quote: If you don’t use your head, you gotta use your feet.
R- Ring size: 8
S - Season: Fall
T- Tag 3 Friends: Uhh…whomever wants something to do…
U - Unknown fact about me: Used to play tenor sax in high school
V - Very favorite stores: Bath and Body Works, Lowe’s, Michaels  
W - Worst Habit: terminal laziness  
X-ray or Ultrasound: I prefer u/s, but I’ve had numerous of both
Y - Your Favorite Food(s): Beef Curry or Crawfish Etouffee - “mais yeah, chere!”
Z - Zodiac: Aquarius

The weekend was bearable.  I appear to have survived intact.  F and I didn’t win a darned thing, but that wasn’t exactly the point of going.  It was for “west and wee-waxation”, as Mr. Fudd would say.   

I’m so proud to have married my darling husband.  He did the perfect thing, as far as I was concerned.  He didn’t try to ignore the elephant in the room, as some would do.  Nor did he make a huge deal out of it, which would have made me even more uncomfortable and miserable than I already was.  He simply gave me a Mother’s Day card that stated that he was glad he’d married me.  God, I needed that.  I couldn’t help but cry, but it wasn’t a miserable sort of cry, really.  It was more of a bittersweet kind of emotion.  He told me he’d bought it a long time ago.  I really, really appreciate what F did.  Even recalling it now, it brings tears to my eyes. 

We came home late Sunday night, and Monday I really felt out of sorts, so I didn’t go to work.  I thought it might’ve been bad food or something, but I wasn’t sure.  I’d also starting seeing traces of pink when I went to the restroom, so I had my suspicions in that direction too. 

Sure enough, I was right.  Late that afternoon, I took a shower, and while I was towelling off, I noticed blood on the towel.  Even though I knew it was coming, it still took my breath away.  I tightly gripped the blood-stained part of the towel in my fist, sat down on the commode, and sobbed.  I was still like that when F got home later - stark naked and wailing on the toilet, towel clutched in my folded hands.  Poor man - he doesn’t handle me crying and being upset very well at all.

I took Tuesday off too, partly because I was a basket case, and partly because of the lovely cramping.  It’s weird, too.  It hurts more to lay down; the cramping’s worse then.  It started in earnest about 2:30AM Tuesday morning, bad enough to wake me up, and I usually sleep like the dead.  I will say that the cramping hasn’t been as bad since then. 

I’ve been snuggling up with a heating pad at night, which seems to alleviate most of the discomfort.  It also makes me the most popular sleeping companion, as far as our beagle’s concerned.  I’ve been waking up with a beagle attachment for the past couple of mornings, with a heating pad between us.  One can’t help but smile when you see how she’s allllll stretched out, right next to me.  It’s pretty cute. 

My RE told me to give her office a call when I had had the miscarriage.  I think I’ll probably give her office a ring this next Monday.  I’ve read several ladies’ accounts of their miscarriages, and, of course, I don’t know if the worst is yet to come, or if this is it, or what.  Considering the baby’s heart stopped sometime during the seventh week, and that this would have been my (sigh) 10th week if I were still pregnant, it’s possible that my body could have started to reabsorb things in the womb.  I may not (TMI alert!) see a recognizable placenta, or anything definitive.  I imagine I’ll probably keep bleeding for at least another week, though again, I could be wrong.  I have no idea. 

These days, my body is and is not my own, if you get my drift.                  

I will be better not because of genetics, or money or because I have read more books but because I have struggled and toiled for this child.
I have longed and waited.
I have cried and prayed.
I have endured and planned over and over again.

Like most things in life, the people who truly have appreciation are those who have struggled to attain their dreams.
I will notice everything about my child.
I will take time to watch my child sleep, explore and discover.
I will marvel at this miracle every day for the rest of my life.

I will be happy when I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of my child, knowing that I can comfort, hold and feed him and that I am not waking to take another temperature, pop another pill, take another shot or cry tears of a broken dream.
My dream will be crying for me.

I count myself lucky in this sense; that God has given me this insight, this special vision with which I will look upon my child that my friends will not see. Whether I parent a child I actually give birth to or a child that God leads me to, I will not be careless with my love.

I will be a better mother for all that I have endured.
I am a better wife, a better aunt, a better daughter, neighbor, friend and sister because I have known pain.
I know disillusionment as I have been betrayed by my own body.

I have been tried by fire and hell many never face, yet given time, I stood tall.
I have prevailed. I have succeeded.I have won. So now, when others hurt around me, I do not run from their pain in order to save myself discomfort.
I see it, mourn it, and join them in theirs.
I listen.

And even though I cannot make it better, I can make it less lonely.
I have learned the immense power of another hand holding tight to mine, of other eyes that moisten as they learn to accept the harsh truth and when life is beyond hard.
I have learned a compassion that only comes with walking in those shoes.
I have learned to appreciate life.
Yes, I will be a wonderful mother.
                                                                ~Unknown

This poem kind of conveys how I currently feel. 

Please understand that I’m not knocking those of you fortunate to have given birth without any hint of infertility.  In fact, any infertile who says that she wouldn’t happily shave her head to not be infertile is lying her ass off.  However, in the efforts of finding that ever-elusive silver lining, I’m of the mind that infertility will make me a much better and appreciative mother than I would have been if this hadn’t happened to me.   

F and I are heading to Louisiana this Saturday, to go gamble and basically pretend that Mother’s Day isn’t this weekend.  It would be a gross understatement to say that I’m truly dreading this Sunday.  I went ahead and bought my mom a card, which I’ve already put in the mail, and I have already told her we’re not heading to her house this weekend, although that’s what I’d usually do. 

I just don’t want to be this great gaping wound around my parents, my sister, and my niece and nephew.  The way I feel right now, I don’t know how I’d react if someone said something to me that touched these raw and exposed nerves I’m currently sporting.  I don’t want to feel anger and resentment aimed toward anyone, especially my loving and caring family, nor do I want to be a sad sack around them this weekend.  I really feel that it’ll be better for F and I to just run away for a weekend.  Maybe we’ll become millionaires over the weekend…

I can lick my wounds while I’m sitting in an oversized tub with its jets swishing and swirling the water around my aging, PCOS-ridden, infertile, soon-to-be-miscarrying body.  I can be as antisocial as I damned well please while I sit mindlessly at a slot machine.  I can even drink if that’s what I want to do.  I can’t really think of a place that is less familial and cozy than a casino, so that works for me and my present mindset. 

Thank God that F figured it out pretty quickly, so that I didn’t even have to ask if we could go somewhere, anywhere, this weekend.  He may have had a tiny bit of help in that department from my mom, but I don’t think so.  I think he honestly thought of it himself.  Bless him!   

I can’t help but think that poor F suspects that he married a ghoul of some kind.  I know I freaked him out when I decided to go to work on the day after we found out I would miscarry.  Sure, my emotions are raw as hell, but it’s actually easier on me up at school than it would be if I sat at home by myself all day, every day, waiting for the inevitable.  Besides, I need to save those sick days for when I’m actually miscarrying. 

Since finding out there was no hope of the baby’s survival, the most difficult part of the day for me is at night, when I get ready for bed.  That’s when I’d don my maternity sleeping bra, take my prenatal vitamins, and used to do my daily Endometrin insert.  These days, the boobs are still tender at night, so I still have to use a maternity sleeping bra, which really kind of sucks if you’re a woman who is no longer pregnant.  I still take my prenatal vitamin, because I believe that it’s important for the wellbeing of any future vamplita and F progeny.  But, like I mentioned in my last post, I’m no longer taking the inserts, since what’s the frickin’ point??   

The first time I had to use the bra after finding out our baby’s dead, I simply bawled.  It seems very, very unfair that I’m still experiencing that symptom, even though I’m no longer expecting.  I can’t even begin to describe the feeling of complete and utter defeat I experienced that first night I had to use the bra after hearing the news.  It really chafes to know that my nightly pregnancy ritual was, after all is said and done, all for naught. 

I honestly don’t know what to say.  F and I went to my RE appointment on April 23rd for another ultrasound.  We were expecting to see a heartbeat and hear good news.  We ended up being 1 for 2.  According to Dr. S, the baby only measured at 6w0d, which as you may or may not know, is one week behind where (s)he ought to be at 7weeks, one day.  She did see a faint heartbeat, which she showed us.  But, the fact that the baby only did two days worth of development in eight days is most definitely not a Good Thing.  In fact, it’s pretty fuckin’ bad.    

She told us that, given the baby’s slow development, and my - wait for it - advanced maternal age, there was a good chance that I’d miscarry.  I was scheduled to go back the next Wednesday, April 30th, to see what was happening, and, as Dr. S said, “we’d take it from there”.  I was sincerely hoping our little one just wasn’t feeling particularly sociable, and (s)he was just at a weird angle, so the measurements were off.  However, Dr. S couldn’t hear the baby’s heartbeat on doppler, either.  Sigh. 

Our first OB appointment was scheduled for May 2nd, today.  Depending upon what happened at the next RE appointment, I’d either keep the appointment, or have to cancel it.  I was really, really hoping we didn’t have to cancel. 

I managed to not cry until Dr. S left us while I got dressed.  F and I held each other, while he kept telling me not to give up yet.  “Not yet, honey…there’s still a chance.”

Dr. S told us that there was a good chance that I would miscarry, and it appears that she was right.  I had the followup appointment this past Wednesday, April 30th, and there wasn’t a heartbeat visible or audible this time.  Our dreams of a December baby (or any baby) aren’t meant to be for this year. 

I’ve decided to stop taking my vaginal inserts of progesterone, wait, and let nature take its course, as difficult as that will be.  I don’t prefer it by any means…who could prefer any thing when miscarriage is the subject???  But, I know that would be better on my body than having a D&C.  Still, I’ve also decided to set a time limit on this waiting period, because there comes a point when mental health is at-risk after a while, ya know??  One has to consider the trade-off involved of body health vs. going out of my rabbit-ass mind while waiting being on BloodWatch 2008.  Two weeks sounded appro pos to me, considering how many two-week-waits I’ve had during this journey that is my life as an infertile woman. 

I’ll stop now.  I’m fucking bummed as it is. 

We got to see our tiny Lollipop yesterday, and I’m pleased to announce that (s)he was at least in the right location.  Dr. S said that there was a definite gestational sac, a yolk sac, and a fetal pole that she saw.  She said she wasn’t prepared to say officially that she saw a heartbeat, but that if she “closed one eye, looked really hard, and imagined just as hard”, she might see a faint heartbeat.  She said that (s)he measured at 5w5d, which was a bit small for what we had determined as 6w0d, but she said it didn’t really surprise or concern her.

I asked her for some OB recommendations, and she was more than happy to provide a few.  I’ve always told myself that if I ever got pregnant, I was going to have my baby at Woman’s Hospital of Texas.  I really like the fact that they have a neonatologist on staff 24-7, along with an OB, and an anesthesiologist.  Not only are they available 24 hours a day, these are doctors who have been in their profession for many years… in other words, they aren’t a sea of residents, who may or may not be as familiar with a situation such as mine.  Their NICU is top-notch, if (God forbid!!) something were to happen for the baby to require that type of accommodation. 

My husband wasn’t as eager for me to go there to have the baby.  The hospital’s about 25 minutes away, and (bless him) he’s concerned that I wouldn’t be able to make it to the hospital in time if I were to go into labor while he was at work, and potentially hundreds of miles away.  I had the doctor explain to him about why this hospital is so good, and that most first pregnancy labors were far from quick, so I’d have plenty of time to get there if I had to get there on my own.  Yay, Dr. S!! 

I asked her if she would consider my pregnancy to be high-risk for any reason.  She said that no, she didn’t think there was a reason for me to be high-risk at this time.  I have very few restrictions - no rollerskating, no horseback riding, and no climbing stuff, which totally screws up my plans for this next weekend!!  I had plans to climb onto a rollerskating horse and possibly a bit of skydiving.  Oh well.  At least there’s still skydiving.