Sorry for the delay folks, but today is my birthday! I’m the big 3-0 today. As a gift, I was given an internal exam at the OB’s office.
Yes, that’s right. Instead of going to Disneyland like I had hoped and planned, I got a few fingers inside my cervix. Fun times. The good news is: my body is working as it should- I’m 1 centimeter dilated and effacing. She’s requesting an ultrasound at our appointment next week so we can monitor how large PJ is, since “she’s pretty big”.
So, we walked out and scheduled next week’s appointment. Paul had a grin on his face, I must have turned pale. He said, “You weren’t expecting that, were you?”
Now, I know most 1st timers go late. I also know it’s possible to be stalled at 1cm for three weeks. Still, the warnings from others going, “You’re going to go early, I know it” ring through my head as I think, “Oh my god, I have so much more to do.”
Paul keeps asking me, “Where is this ‘nesting’ thing I’ve heard about?” Well, aside from building the pack n play, I’m sure my nesting is only in my mind. Mentally I’m picking up clothes off the floor, packing my hospital bag, writing out my birth plan. Also in my head, I’m washing the linens for the crib and magically assembling the crib- since my SIL won’t let us put it together, but whose husband doesn’t have TIME to do it. Hello. I am due in 17 days. According to my doc, I could GO AT ANY TIME (Gilbert Grape, anyone?), PUT OUR DAMN CRIB TOGETHER!
This is where I am today, slightly aching from the internal, with a large baby squatting on my bladder, opening more every day.
It could happen at any time.
Is it too late to freak the hell out about being a mother?
I am finally full term. The baby is cooked. and just needs a few more weeks of growing to ensure she’s a perfect little bit when she comes out. Now that I’ve come so far, it’s slightly hard for me to remember the trek to get here.
Slightly.
No, it’s not something I’ve forgotten, or something I’ve pushed aside. It took me twelve cycles to get this baby here. It took me repeated renewals of fertility friend, and several batches of ovulation sticks. It took me many, many months of heartache and jealousy, pain and fear. Have I moved on? Nope.
Sad to say that I still get jealous hearing about people getting pregnant so easily. I’m not ashamed to admit it. Hell, everyone who wants a baby wants a baby as soon as possible, as quickly as feasible. Despite this kicking being inside of me, I still hurt when I think of the time it took to get here. I hurt even more when I have to think of the friends and family who are currently where I was at this time last year (I believe I was in cycle 7 or 8), and are desperately hoping it’ll be their turn soon.
Thinking back to what got me here (not the actual ACT, you sickos), I remember the ups and downs of negative upon negative tests. Of course, the o-sticks were a godsend, I had a fairly regular cycle, and well, what the hell else could be wrong? I was going to give it until the 12th cycle to see a doctor. I know with temping and all that, that I was able to be seen at 6 months of trying (supposedly), but any testing was not covered by insurance (stupid Catholic school insurance plan- totally covers all babies and stuff, but avoiding/medically trying to get pregnant is a no-go) and well, I didn’t want to think it’d take me much longer.
The months went by, and I’d cry. I’d see other babies, hear stories of people having babies when I wasn’t- and I was trying REALLY hard! It’s even worse when the media makes it sound like people get pregnant accidentally all the time. Sometimes I’d worry that I was trying TOO hard. My life began to blur together- every day waking at 6:10am on the dot, not ever excluding holidays, vacations, birthdays, weekends. Around the time I’d begin my “fertile” period, I’d go home and pee on an OPK. I’d sit there and dream about the day my OPK was a positive pregnancy test. My sitting on the toilet became such a regular occurrence with peeing on sticks and in cups that Woofie began to come in there with me after his “Momma’s home from work walkie!”.
Finally, it got to cycle 12. It was a YEAR. Literally, a year. This time, like a few other times before, my chart was looking good. GOOD! It was looking GOOD! I decided to test… nothing. I waited two more days… it appeared. That long sought after double line. It was a miracle. I cried, relieved to be not crazy, and not barren. Somehow, someway, something decided that I would be allowed to keep that baby, and here I am… waiting three more weeks until she’s here for good.
Now, as Eden asked me, how did I feel when i got to that point- the 12th cycle? I felt worthless. I felt like I was paying for anything mean I’ve ever done. I felt like it was all my fault. Yet… I also felt it may have been PAUL’S fault, too. It takes two to make a baby, right? That was a TINY part of me, though, the finger-pointer. Instead that old adage held true- when I pointed that finger, three more were pointed directly at me. I panicked, what if I could NEVER get pregnant? We couldn’t afford IVF or even IUI. We could barely afford any testing we would have to do. Why then, have a baby, you ask? Because it is my JOB to be a mother. Whether directly ours or not, well, that was to be seen.
For others, who may have insurance that covers fertility treatments, you’re in (slightly less crappy) luck- you can get testing done after that horrible 12th cycle passes. You can find a doctor who believes in temping and charting (some don’t), and believes in the full spectrum of testing. For me, should that 12th cycle not have ended in magic, I would probably have started saving my pennies, waiting until I could find a doctor who would treat us.
The truth is, I felt discouraged. I was depressed, and hated seeing anyone else in the world pregnant. I stayed away from certain websites, stopped talking to certain people and well, kept my misery to a select few friends. Well, and I blogged. Of course.
I just kept thinking about next cycle, and the next, where would we be when I ovulate next? When shows came on with the emulation of women trying to get pregnant, and they declared they’re ovulating from XX day to XX day I would bitterly laugh- psh. “You’re FERTILE then, you can’t OVULATE over 5 days, GOD, get researchers!”
So, my dear readers, my bitterness has not gone away. No, it merely curls into itself, venturing out in favor of friends and family currently going through the same thing I did. After all, what use is being the “one who took a year to get pregnant” when you can’t take one for the team?
How I felt coming upon that 12th cycle: hope, as always. I never stopped hoping. Even unrealistically hoping, I’m not ashamed. I also felt weary and broken, as if the magic was gone. Part of me, as well, felt hopeless. Nevertheless, I felt some joy at having Paul with me. I would much rather have him as my husband, while unable to get pregnant, than with another man who I could have children with.
Was I content in my life, sans baby? No, I wasn’t. COULD I have been, eventually? I’d like to think so. Still, I didn’t let go of that fierce hope: It WILL HAPPEN.
Hear that Eden? IT WILL HAPPEN for you, too. It may take time, it may take testing, it may take fistfuls of OPKs. If you are at the point where the hope is getting overpowered by hopelessness, let Piper and I hope FOR you. It breaks my heart to see anyone else struggle like I did, and so many other people, as well.
Whether it takes you years to have your baby, whether your baby was chosen to be an angel before you could meet her, whether your body just can’t handle a pregnancy: you are strong, and know that people like me are holding tight to that hope. Even though it gets dark sometimes, someone will have a light on for you.
Please, let me know if I can help in any way.
