Hello everyone. I am a late-thirty something who lives in the Pacific Northwest. We have been married for 2 years and started getting it on sans birth control last summer.
The first four months that we were officially off birth control, we missed the good times due to one of us being out of town for work. Our fifth cycle – the one where the mister and I were miraculously in the same zip code when the OPK turned the-exact-same-color-as-the-control-line-blue – we managed to get knocked up.
Holy frickin damn! Look at how awesome we are, I thought. Yeah, we nailed that b*tch. I gave away my copy of TCOYF and How to Get Pregnant Naturally (snicker). I now want to do something really mean to the smarmy UVA doctor who wrote that one and got me addicted to OPKs. Anyway, I digress.
WE were the champions of conception. WE didn’t have to worry about any of this IF shite. Ha! It didn’t even matter that I am in my late 30’s and the mister (aka Cowboy, seriously that’s my nickname for him) is early 40’s. WE were the cat’s ass.
Au contraire, mon frair.
Apparently while we were great about getting pg, we weren’t so great at staying pg. We m/c’ed a few weeks later. 3 days after my first pregnant lady appointment. How embarrassing is that? Yep, we went from hero to zero. More stories about Junior #1 in another post.
That was 6 months ago. And like I said: hero to zero.
Actually hero to below zero. We’re talking negative integers here, people. Because 14 days ago I just received my second BFP. Yay! And 7 days ago I miscarried. Again. Boo!
If I sound like I am trying to be funny, it’s really just a slightly maniacal side of myself that I’m starting to get to know.
Losing Junior #2 (it sucks being the middle child doesn’t it) also means we are in another recovery period. During which time we’ll have our first meeting with an RE because apparently now I’m in the SUPER FUN recurrent fetal loss club. Do you at least get a letterman-style sweatshirt with RFL on it?
OK, OK. I can hear those of who have been on this crazy IF and sub-IF roller coaster for waaay tooooo long sayin’ “Sister, you don’t even know… eight months? A freakin’ jog around the block compared to what I’ve been through.” And I hear you. I really do. And I so get it.
But women like The Oneliner, Pregnancy Envy, Sticky Bun and My Dear Watson have become my daily staples. And I just started feeling creepy lurking on the IF blog sidelines. Some IF voyeur if you will. Since I love the written word, I thought maybe, just maybe I might have something to contribute here. To give myself an outlet and to make others, perhaps future others, not feel so alone and, um, misunderstood by husbands, lovers, parents, siblings, friends and co-workers who don’t get how having a baby could become such an obsession (cue the movie trailer music).
Because having a baby. Well, that was the plan. Wasn’t it?