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.