About not being pregnant

It's going to be a long one. If you're not in the mood for a (potentially boring) read, visit soon for a quick post!

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This is me, pregnant with my Lucie. I look like a dork taking my photo in the mirror! I remember that I was taking it to send to my parents who lived overseas. 

Lucie's pregnancy was a pretty amazing one and at the time this self snap was taken, I really couldn't believe I was actually pregnant, this pregnant. She was, on all accounts, a "miscarriage" at seven weeks when the doctors were able to tick every box - no heartbeat, no visible sack, bleeding, non-rising hCG levels and loss of pregnancy symptoms. Needless to say, after a week of mourning our loss she appeared as strong as ever on an ultrasound that was intended to determine the need for a D & C. She was, and still is (all these years later!), a VERY determined and strong little girl. It was a tough pregnancy but worth EVERY.SINGLE.SECOND.

I became quite ill when Lucie was a baby and after a lot of thought, consideration, consultation, deliberation and reflection (prayer on my part), we decided that Lucie would be our only baby. It was a huge loss to both of us and something that, though accepted, was deeply sad. There were so many times that I felt guilty for feeling so upset. Here I was with a gorgeous, healthy living child and I was mourning the loss of one I never knew. In any case, knowing it wasn't an option made it easier. I went about my life thinking it would never be and over time I was at peace with that.

We were upfront about it from the beginning and everyone knew. The last thing I needed was friends looking hopeful when I said no to wine. In doing that we avoided the inevitable questions about #2, at least from those we knew. There was no shortage of curiosity from total strangers however, be it women in the line at the supermarket, postmen, waitresses, you name it. Seriously :) Everyone has an opinion, and don't I know it.

Fast forward a few years and things changed. Namely the realisation after seeing a neurologist, that "you can't break what's already broken" (those are my words, not those of the doctor... it's ok!). Basically, the short version of this is that I was already managing my illness well and coping. Another baby would not make it worse as such. Our fear all along had been that a pregnancy could send me into a relapse but you can't relapse something that's active, if that makes sense. I was on board from the beginning but not Jeremy. It took him months, and months, and months. And that's ok. I love that he is so careful. On November 2, 2009, Jeremy announced he was in. I, naturally, cried. 

More than 15 months have now passed and things haven't gone as planned. Though luck (not sure what else to call it) was on our side the first time round, we haven't had the same journey this time. Despite my crazed (some might say possessed) ways, I have nothing to show, unless you count an extra ten kilos that I really didn't need. I have lost a lot though - namely my right fallopian tube and at times, my sanity. It's not all bad though, lessons have been learned, my marriage has been strengthened even more and I've developed a deeper understanding of what it means to want to be pregnant. And all this after only what in the infertility circles is a teeny, tiny amount of time. That I know. But still, it's been hard. I guess it's all relevant, right? Sure, 15 months sounds a pretty short time in the scheme of things but to me it's felt an eternity.

Lately I've been feeling pretty sad. Not about wanting to fall pregnant, but about the fact that I was and still should be. My sadness is due to missing what was to be. I should have been either five or six months along, depending on which most recent loss you go by. The last one has left me feeling pretty devastated, truth be told. I had an ectopic pregnancy in November that turned into a bit of a drama. I was going to say that it's a long story, but really it's not. Girl got pregnant, very excited, happy it's finally working out, hoping it sticks this time, finds out baby in wrong place, given drugs, drugs don't work, fallopian tube ruptures, has surgery, loses tube. The end. But yes, of course, there is so much more in between.

But, that's all I've got the energy for right now. Not just that but it's late. Night for now. Thanks for reading this far along. x