“Is this your first baby?” and inquisitive cashier innocently asks while peering at my 8 1/2 month pregnant belly as she rings me up. I pause before I answer as my stomach does a quick somersault in to my throat.
When I smile politely and say yes to try to abruptly end the conversation I feel like a liar.
When I smile politely and say no it’s my second I have a daughter at home I feel like a liar.
When I smile politely and say no this is my second child and try to leave it at that I feel like a liar.
Sometimes it is life’s most simple questions that require us to produce the most difficult answers.
What I really would love to say is that I am currently pregnant for the fourth time and with my second son. The baby in my body will be my second biological child born and my third child in total. My answer really should be : “oh no this is my third child. I have a 5 month old daughter and a son in heaven”, but who has the time to explain that to complete strangers?
I also feel there is so much shock value in that statement that it is almost this “drops mic walks away” kind of moment.
I so desperately want to honor all of my babies, but don’t feel the need to be an open book with every well-intentioned stranger that crosses my path on the daily.
Every time the question gets broached (which is increasing more and more as i get further along) I get more uneasy with how I answer. It is a constant and consistent reminder of the loss of my first child. I also wonder how deeply to delve in to my daughter’s adoption as it will one day be her story to tell and not mine.
Deep breath. Sigh.
The past four days like clockwork, every morning at 8:30 am and every evening at 7 pm my husband has stabbed me with the baby-making juice. With the exception of one shot they’ve all ended with a high-five and a kiss for the painless procedure. I’m really proud of him. He’s got a gentle touch and I barely feel a thing. My belly is beginning to show signs of tenderness and I have a headache that won’t quit on my 10 ml Micro Lupron / 225 ui Follistim protocol but this little party in my ovaries is in full swing.
In my efforts to stay on the sunny side of this less than stellar situation I have decided to do two things:
1. Have a theme song
Yes! I have a theme song for making this IVF cycle my bitch and it’s Katy Perry’s Roar. If you need to pump yourself up before your shots I highly recommend. Thankfully it’s overplayed and on the radio every 15 minutes right now. I picture my follicles roaring like lions. It’s absolutely ridiculous, but nobody ever said IVF has to be serious.
2. A list of things that hurt more than my injections
The injections really haven’t been that bad, but in case I forget I’ve been developing a list of things that hurt WAY more than one of my shots. A few that have made my list include:
– paper cuts
– Eyebrow threading (this is really painful)
– Bikini wax
– stubbing my toe
– rolling my ankle in a pair of heels
– Cat scratches
– Feel free to let me know what other things I should add to my tally. 🙂
Facebook has a funny way of advertising to me at the exact moments when I am NOT pregnant! Le Sigh 🙂
To be a champion fight one more round – James Corbett
I’ve never been in a boxing ring. And the only time I’ve ever thrown a punch was back in the Billy Bank’s era during the early 2000’s when kickboxing was trendy. Life has certainly made me its punching bag a time or two. I know what it feels like to get knocked down and come up swinging. I’ve picked myself up and dusted myself off more times than I’d care to count at 32-years-old and some of my hardest blows have been about pregnancy.
Two years ago today after 18 weeks of pregnancy I delivered my son stillborn for reasons that to this very day are still unknown. The doctors called it a fetal demise. I called it not being lucky enough to miscarry. I don’t know what was worse…learning that my son had no heartbeat during my first ultrasound, spending 18 hours in labor only to walk out of the hospital with my arms empty or the emotional trauma I experienced each night when I fell asleep and saw my son in my dreams. There he was a blond haired blue-eyed piece of perfection. The problem was horrible things would happen to him and I could not save him. He burned to death; he was stolen out of my car at the airport. I accidentally smothered him to death when I dumped out a basket of laundry. As I dug through the laundry I could feel his heart beating and I could not get to him fast enough…
In July 2012, a little over a year later, once I re-gained my courage to fight one more round, my husband and I found out we were pregnant. By September we knew it was a blighted ovum and I miscarried.
Most recently, after every test imaginable, we went through out first round of stimulated IUI to end up with an ectopic pregnancy.
These are my stories from the ring of reoccuring pregnancy loss and infertility . I fill my non pregnant moments with random adventures because one day very soon I will in fact be pregnant for the entire 10 months. Until then it’s on to round number four…ding…ding…ding!