As many of you know, today was our first visit with Dr. Best-in-the-State, who from now on shall be called Dr. Impressive Credentials. It was between that or Dr. Smooth Operator, and that just seemed strange and a little inappropriate. Anyway, Dr. IC and his staff were very thorough and kind. AND, much to my relief, Dr. IC actually had a good bedside manner. Not a bowtie in sight, and no grumpiness that I could detect. However, in around 40 minutes of questioning us and going over my extensive medical records, he came to the same conclusion as his practicing antithesis. He told us that 50% of recurrent miscarriages are without a known cause, and that based on all of the test results, the only conclusion is that we must try, try again and eventually we’ll “hit a home run” as opposed to “striking out.” He promised us that he was not just giving us a “Rah-Rah” speech, but that he truly believed what he was saying. His baseball analogies were somewhat strange, especially considering my distaste for the game, but the message behind them was clear. At some point, based on all that they’ve ruled out, we will probably have a baby of our own. The question is simply how much more we can take. We don’t know if the magic number is 6 or 10 or even 15. The only thing Dr. IC can provide for us really is his experience and reassurance.
I have to say that having Dr. GB’s results confirmed was both a relief and a bit of a surprise. I was so hoping to hear, “Oh, silly Dr. GB, he was so busy being old and grumpy that he forgot to run this test.” Then a few minutes later, “Yup, that’s what’s been causing this all along. Here’s the pill you need to fix it.” Not hearing anything of the sort did help ease some of the guilt, knowing that during this last pregnancy there was nothing I should or could have done differently.
This visit did spark something that I haven’t felt in awhile: HOPE. I haven’t written lately because, honestly, I’ve been too angry and sad to write anything the slightest bit uplifting. People ask me how I do it, how I come to work the day after bad news, how I keep from bursting into tears on one of my due dates, even how I can hold onto faith through it all. The truth is, sometimes, I don’t. I’m good at wearing masks on occasion, as I’ve shared before, and the “I’m fine” mask is one that I’ve become all too familiar with lately. Today though, this renewed hope has allowed me to refocus on the big picture of my life. It is as follows: I have an amazing, loving husband who works hard and supports me in all I do. I have a caring family who is full of faith and lifts me up in prayer daily. Although we work really hard, God has blessed Erik and me with great jobs and the ability to have a life without any debt except for our beautiful home. I’m fortunate to have lots of friends, and a few that I count close enough to be vulnerable with. I have security in my future because I know that God is in control and he DOES have plans that I can’t even fathom that DO involve kids, one way or another. I AM fine. I just needed a doctor’s “Rah-Rah” to remind me.