Every once in a while I am hit with a realization of how far along my pregnancy would be if I hadn’t lost the baby in June.
I would have been close to 7 months along. I would have been planning maternity leave from work. I would have been finishing up the nursery. I would have been uncomfortably huge.
I would have been over the moon with excitement.
It is amazing what a person can selectively remember within a very short period of time. One of the common side effects of Clomid is hot flashes, just like menopausal hot flashes. I experienced them last cycle and sure enough, here they come again. It’s not just being hot that is the problem, it’s the sweating while hot that is an issue. The sweat is still there after my body temperature drops back to normal so I freeze.
I had forgotten how hard it is to sleep when your body temperature fluctuates from too hot to too cold every 10 minutes. My poor husband scootches over in bed to snuggle and I can’t: I’m just too hot!
I’m not whining; I think they are sort of amusing. They also let me know that the medication I’ve been taking this week is actually doing something. Whether or not it is going to do what it was designed to do is another story completely.
One of the first blogs I found about infertility/loss was Stirrup-queens.
Last week, Mel posted her annual “How to Get Through the Holidays” post, which I didn’t pay too much attention to at the time but after my mother-in-law’s call yesterday, I felt like I needed to revisit it. There was a huge, leg-drop of truth in the middle of the post:
“That for every holiday season that you enjoy and look forward to participating in, there is also a time in life where you dread all the reminders that come with a holiday season and wish you could avoid the whole thing. And this year may be that time for you, but it won’t always be that time for you. Things change; both for good and bad. This too shall pass”
Things won’t always be like this, as crap-tastic as I feel right now (blaming the meds!). I might be able to look forward to Christmas at some point, even though it might not be this year. I’m going to cling to that as hard as I can!
My mother-in-law called this morning just to tell us that one of my husband’s cousins is pregnant.
How awesome is that?!?!?!?!
Now neither of us want to go to family Christmas because that will be all they talk about. There is a tiny chance we’ll be pregnant by then too but I can’t put too much hope in that one place. Even then, since the miscarriage I wouldn’t want to tell anyone that we’re expecting for fear of things going so horribly wrong again.
Nothing like a verbal punch in the stomach to make you want to celebrate holidays with family, huh?
I took my last Provera last night.
Come on, Uterus, step up and do what you were made to do for a change. Fighting with my own body gets a little irritating after a while.
I have need feeling super tired and have had headaches for the last few days so I’m either expecting (wouldn’t that be ironic!) or Aunt Flo is almost here. It surprises to me, after having so few periods in my life, that I’d actually want one now. Before TTC, I would have been happy going without. Ah, built-in birth control.
My biggest fear about celebrating Christmas with my husband’s family is that one of the married cousins will announce that they are pregnant.
I don’t know if I could fake a good response after being ambushed like that.
When I was growing up, my family would take a two week road trip every summer. All 6 of us (at that point) would cram into our old minivan and drive to see something unique and wonderful about a historic site or natural wonder. My favorite part was when I got a chance to ride shotgun. My dad taught me to navigate and my love of maps was born.
One of the things I loved about the atlas was that every highway was marked with exit numbers and other mile markers. I would spend hours checking the numbers flashing by on the side of the road with the little marks on the atlas in my lap. As much as I loved seeing our progress down the road, watching for mile markers made time go even slower. All I could think about was that next number and how much closer to our destination we would be when we finally crossed that invisible line. My parents reminded me that as soon as I forgot the mile markers and start reading, playing games, or listening to music, the day in the car would fly by. Turns out, they were right.
I tend to look for landmarks or some way to measure time. Lately this has been through things like Provera Day 7 (today), TTC Day 221 (also today-ish, this one is less precise), cycle day x (47?). I get caught up in numbers and counting and suddenly the days starting crawling by at a snail’s pace. Once I look beyond the number of the day and pay attention to other things that bring me joy, the days speed past.
I choose to have fun, to play games with my husband, to go to bed early, just so I can read one last chapter of a book in comfort. I choose to do all these things today.