I have been quiet for some time now on this blog. Writers block always comes at the most unexpected times. And I have certainly felt quite blocked in terms of any sort of writing. Whether it’s my book, this blog or my journal, the empty pages stare back at me when I try to empty my head of the many thoughts that is filling my brain.
For the past 2 years, Andrew and I have been trying to conceive #2. I had a third micarriage in late May of this year and after that we went for help with the doctor that helped me carry Drew to term.
While trying to conceive Drew, we were getting pregnant but experiencing miscarriages. This time, things were different. We weren’t getting pregnant. Until that May. But it turned out I was “barely pregnant” and miscarried days after finding out.
Over the past half a year, I have tried pills (Clomid) for a few cycles along with an IUI – Intra Uterine Insemination. They take your husband’s sperm and place it with a catheter directly through your cervix and into your uterus. I’ve injected myself with Follistim to create more follicles and therefore more of a chance to get pregnant. I’ve injected myself with drugs to stop me from ovulating so the follicles can get to be the perfect size and I’ve even injected myself with other drugs to help me release all the follicles at once.
I’ve done about 10 IUI’s.
And I am not pregnant.
This month, I experienced such discomfort, fevers and pain in my uterus when sitting, walking or doing anything that when I saw my doctor for our second IUI of this month, he had to abort that plan and treat a raging bacterial infection.
I don’t know why my body is failing me and hearing my doctor tell me that on paper, there is no reason why I’m not pregnant really doesn’t help.
We don’t want to go into debt to have a second baby and therefore IVF is out of the question. But there’s an emptiness there. A sadness and disappointment that I can’t give my husband another baby. An anger that everything I do in life is met with hardship and strife and nothing I ever get comes easy. I have to fight for everything.
And usually, I’m determined. But my body is tired. And my heart is broken. I’m empty. And uninspired. I’m angry at God. At my body. I don’t understand and I can’t go through another month with black and blues all over my stomach. I would rather put my money, my time and my attention to my son.
So it looks like having a second baby is something I’ll never have. And I have to admit, it’s going to take me some time to accept this. I’m not great at giving up. I’m not wonderful at accepting defeat. I’m a sore loser and this defeat will sting.
One day, I hope to know why God chose this path for me. This amount of disappointment and sadness. But I won’t appease him now by saying that I understand. I don’t. But maybe, one day I will.
I’m going to move forward and focus on the love of my life – my son, my husband and love fully, live happy and find contentment somewhere. I’m lucky that I have Drew. I know better than anyone how many women have to give up without ever conceiving a child of their own and I have that.
I guess it was selfish to want more.