Thursday, January 6, 2011

Cycle three and related musings

We are once again doing a clomid cycle this time with a wee bit more frustration. Apparently I misunderstood my RE regarding the need for day 21 progesterone tests (or he didn't give the information that he thought he did). GRRRRRRR!!!!! I am frustrated because Dr. Get me pregnant will not increase my clomid dosage without those test results even though he believes that I need a higher dose. GGRRR!!!! oh, and did I say GGRRRRR!!! ? So, the last few cycles have been pointless. *sigh*

On a related note, a completely surreal moment happened to me earlier this week. The day I took the first dose of clomid for this cycle, I also spent some time organizing the basement and I came across the box. You know the one. The I'm finally pregnant and look at all this irresistible baby stuff box. And then you miscarry and everything gets boxed away because it hurts to even look at it. Most of the box I was able to cope with, after all, it was all clothes and toys and what not that can sit in wait for a future child. Then I found the baby book. Our first pregnancy and subsequent miscarriage. We made it the longest that time, we had known that we were having a little girl and we had a name picked out for her. Perhaps filling out the pages of that book was too much temptation for fate because within hours of bringing it home and beginning to fill it out, I began to miscarry.
Until I found that book I had chosen to forget, act as though it wasn't there as a shadow in my heart. Perhaps because we had heard the heartbeat and seen the ultrasound, she has always been the only pregnancy that has felt real to me. All the subsequent miscarriages have felt very very unreal. I haven't gotten excited about the pregnancies, nor have I bought more baby things. With her I gave up hope.
As I flipped through the pages of her baby book and I read about our emotions of finding out about her and our reactions to the news of her existence, I realized that if we did get pregnant again with the clomid, that child will not be treated the same. That child will be awaited with bated breathe and crossed fingers and toes. The sheer joy will be gone. The pages of that book helped me heal a little this week, helped me move forward and to regain some hope. Does it mean anything that I began the clomid on the very day that I found Bethany's baby book? Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is that it reminded me of why I am putting myself through the nausea and wild mood swings, and reminded me that it is worth it.

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