After the miscarriage, I had to wait another three months before Chuck and I could try again. Of course I had to use drugs to induce periods, otherwise who knows how long it would have taken me to have the necessary three periods. Gotta love those drug-induced periods. But finally I had three and we were able to get back to the Clomid and the baby making.
Tries 1 and 2 brought the same disappointment as before. When we went through round 3 (which was really round 6), I was positive that it, too, would be negative. I was sure that this meant that we'd be sent to infertility specialists. I knew enough to know that I did not want to do that. If I thought Clomid conceiving was difficult, then IVF would kill me. The shots, the tests, the prodding, the costs, the everything. I just wasn't sure I was up for it. I mean, we had Rhett. He's a (near) perfect little boy and we love him something terrible. I had to start to talk myself into being happy with only one child. It was hard, but a necessary defensive move.
My next period was supposed to start right before Thanksgiving, you know, the due date of the baby I lost. You know, right when two other babies in my ward were being born. You know, right when another set of in-laws announced their own happy pregnancy. Isn't that all just so convenient. (I realize no one was trying to hurt me, and so I tried hard to conceal my jealousy and hurt. I'm not sure how well I did and apologize to those who may have thought me callous or unexcited about their news. Hopefully you understand now.) It was a really hard time and I was especially emotional, which indicated, of course, an upcoming period and negative pregnancy test, which made me even more emotional.
As we got close to the expected start date of my period, I started taking the ovulation predictor kits. I knew that they could show up positive if I was pregnant. I took so many of these that Rhett (who would not stay out of the bathroom!) would often ask, "Mom, what you going to pee on?" But the tests started showing up more and more positive. When I finally got up the nerves to use a pregnancy test, good news for us: positive! Even better news: I didn't have the same foreboding feeling of impending doom.
Let me say that I was so sure that the pregnancy test would be negative. As this was to happen the week of Thanksgiving, I even scheduled a Monday appointment with my doctor to get another Clomid prescription. Instead, I ended up having blood work done to confirm pregnancy. I have since had doctor's appointments nearly every week or every other week since conception. And because of my history, I have already had four ultrasounds. Four. Everything so far shows nothing but a healthy, viable pregnancy (that's possibly a boy, but I'll wait for the later ultrasound to confirm this) with a due date of early August (happy birthday to me!).
Chapter 5 tomorrow...
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i would say a "happy ending," but i think it's more like a "happy beginning."
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