/sigh…. and so… to continue the theme of the past few weeks/months/years(?) I am going to be morose and depressing.
3 years ago this month- heck let’s narrow it down- next week is the three year anniversary of when I was told by my OBGYN to “go forth and reproduce” (That was more or less his exact words too). It is the anniversary of three years since I had cancer removed from my girly parts- and it never came back. (hooray for that!!) There are people who know me who would never in a million years guess that I’ve had cancer. And while it was very mild, and caught very early, and has never returned, it’s still CANCER- the same cancer that nearly killed my mother. The same cancer that caused my cervix to become what it is today- incompetent.
You could say, I’m lucky that cancer didn’t kill me, that it’s left me untouched- I had bits of cervix removed and now I’m completely healthy and I was lucky they caught it early and all that jazz- but it didn’t.
I am touched by death- the death of my son from my incompetent cervix- I am touched by the broken hearts of myself, my husband, and my daughter. I am touched by the fact that it’s THREE YEARS and I still don’t have a baby.
I was reading a blog earlier today, and I was in awe of the composure of a woman who’s been on the IF rollercoaster for 7 years. SEVEN YEARS!!! I thought to myself- I can’t IMAGINE going through this for seven years, that poor woman… and yet- I’m nearly half way there myself. And it feels like a sucker-punch to the gut.
It’s probably just hormones I’d guess- As I write this I’m patiently (ok so I’m NOT patient… but I AM waiting) for AF to start so I can get “Clomid- The Sequel” off and running. And I keep having these flashes of hope- I think, “oh, won’t it be nice to be able to give my husband a positive pee stick for his birthday?!” (beginning of August, and NO I’m not LITERALLY going to give him a pee-stick for his birthday, he likes Ice Cream cake- and Ice Cream cake he shall have!!)… and, “the baby will be due around MY birthday- and isn’t that a sign that this HAS to go well???!!!” and of course, “Doesn’t God™ owe me one by now???!!!” (please don’t have me crucified for this, or strike me down with lightning, amen). So yeah… three years, countless peesticks, a chemical pregnancy and one EPIC fail cervix.
Happy TTCersary to me. And here’s to not having another one next year!!