By now you can probably guess the pattern here…SURPRISE! This time I was blown away! So soon after a previous miscarriage? “That can’t be good,” I told myself. However, armed with the doctor’s perpetual optimism (I shall henceforth refer to him as Dr. Never Again), I tried to keep the negative thoughts at bay. This time, I demanded to be seen early. At 6 weeks we got a picture AND saw the heartbeat. I’m not going to lie, I think I wiped a few tears away in that moment. Me! The robot! J The heartbeat wiped all thoughts of losing this baby out of my mind. It was here to stay! Dr. Never Again tricked me…again. 2 days later I started bleeding. Another ultrasound. Another heartbeat. Another “It’s not going to happen again.” Another miscarriage. At home. Alone.
Alone. Was I? It is especially during this miscarriage that I found solace in those “alone” moments, because I found that I wasn’t. I cried out to God so many times in those days following. Asked Him for peace, understanding, help, reassurance. And I found that through the pain of it all, I did, in fact, find healing.
I’m sure by this point any normal person would be asking, “What’s wrong?!” Believe me, I was. EVERYONE was. After some consultation with Dr. Never Again, we decided that the best course of action was to see a Reproductive Endocrinologist. Fancy title = costs lots of money. Anyway, upon first meeting him, I remember thinking that he was eccentric, but brilliant. I was impressed with all of the tests he recommended. Surely in the 9 vials of blood they could find one reason for all of this? Well, 9 vials of blood, 2 months, and a few uncomfortable tests later, they found nada. Zilch. The frustration at having no answer was irritating, to say the least. With every visit, I found myself liking (and therefore trusting) the doctor less and less. From here on I shall call him Dr. Grumpy Bowtie or Dr. GB, given his propensity for being grumpy and wearing hideous bowties. Did I mention that he’s somewhere between 60 and 100? Evidently Dr. GB is the only RE in the state that accepts our insurance. Anyway, he cleared us to start trying in November, with the promise of fun things like shots in the rump and tummy once we conceived. Needless to say, after all the fun I had been having lately, my plan was to start trying in February or so. I needed some time for my body to recover. Maybe hit the gym a bit. Well, you know what they say about the best-laid plans…
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