I’m Not Pregnant Anymore

After a miscarriage the pregnancy hormone, HSG, can stay in your body for up to a month. A month that, for me, meant morning sickness, sore/sensitive breasts and nipples, frequent urination, fullness in my stomach-all of the joys of the first trimester of pregnancy.

The first trimester came and went and now I’m officially no longer pregnant.

Tonight, in a friend’s house, a friend who has a beautiful baby girl, I took a pregnancy test and only got one line. And because we’re in a weird phase of the TTC cycle I didn’t feel upset that we weren’t pregnant, I felt relief that I wasn’t any more.

For over a month I went through the miscarriage process. 2 D&Cs, 3 rounds of mispopristil (sp), acupuncture sessions and herbs all trying to expel the lifeless fetus from my body. For over a month I isolated myself. For over a month I wondered if my relationship was over (Leah did not handle the miscarriage well at all-and that is the understatement of the century). For over a month I wondered where I would live, how I would survive. I thought about death, my own. I thought about life, the one that was lost. For over a month I laid in bed, I wept, I starved. For over a month I spoke to no one.

And through it all, some how, mostly guided by a trip to NYC that was planned months before we knew we were pregnant, I have found myself again. I am laughing. I smile easily. I enjoy the company of other people. I feel alive again. I feel like myself again.

I have on new glasses, they’re crystal clear replacements of the rose-colored glasses I wore through this TTC process. They are glasses that know that I may not get pregnant (some women don’t). They are glasses that know that I may miscarriage again. They are glasses that know that whatever happens, I will be ready.

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Down The Rabbit Hole

down_the_rabbit_hole4This morning went a bit like this

Leah declared, “What the eff, let’s pay to see these donors!”

I made a sort of Yippee! sound

We clicked on our favorite, the CMV- guy who’s athletic and smart and driven and likes to fish

We listened to his long profile and liked him more.

We click through his baby photos and coo over his chubby cheeeks, his golden complexion and curly head of hair visualizing our own little baby.

We went back to his profile to discover that he’s sold out.

I am immediately depressed and irrationally mad at Leah because I’ve been doing all the “work”, I’ve been making the spreadsheets and sifting through every sperm bank that delivers sperm to the USA to tease out the minuscule amount of biracial donors. She’s been putting off nailing down a donor, she’s been complacent in the process, she doesn’t care and to top it all off I’m fairly certain now that I am, without a doubt, not ovulating and that maybe, just maybe, we’re not meant to be parents.

I say these things to her and then storm out of the apartment.

I came back and she’s not here.

I don’t, of course, mean these things and I know she’s just as invested as I am, but as she optimistically starts the process of sifting through donors who are biracial, CMV-, smart with little to no health issues similar to our own familial health issues I can’t help but be angry. I already did all of that and the fact that she thinks that she’ll get farther than I have, when I spend every extra hour in the day hoping there’s a new donor I can’t help my anger.

When I talked to my Mom she said “everything happens for a reason.” and I almost threw my phone across the house.

She (my Mom) says we still have time and I want to scream at her-When she was my age she’s already had both my sister and I and we were already in 2nd grade.

She says it’s not an issue until I’m 36 and we’ve not gotten pregnant. I reminder her that it’s almost my birthday, which means she’s given me a year to do the seemingly impossible  since we have no sperm and I have no eggs.

She tells me to calm down and I hang up on her.

So now I’m in my house with our cats waiting for Leah to come home.