People who know my infertility history often ask how I’m handling this pregnancy. Honestly, I have good days and bad days. Some days I am so blissfully certain that all will be well that I spend hours working on our registry and planning out all the things I’ll make for baby. Other days I’m so paralyzed with fear that it is hard to get out of bed.
Today is a bad day.
Last night I brought out the box of left over IVF drugs and rummaged through the drawer that is still filled with used PIO vials and sealed Sharps containers. I found all the things I have to give away, checked expiration dates and made sure packaging was securely sealed. At the bottom of the box was a brown legal sized envelope. I knew what was in that envelope, or so I thought. I was certain it housed my IVF protocol, expired medication coupons and Pip’s two blobby ultrasound photos.
I didn’t want to open that can of worms so I just put the entire thing in the recycling. Also in the box was a folded up stack of papers. I had no idea what it was and checked to make sure I was not tossing something important. It was the photo of Pip as a blastocyst, my consent forms and the two ultrasound photos.
Damn. I did not want to see that. I did not want to go back there. I wish I could take all these memories and box them up permanently, but I can’t. Throwing the papers away will not erase the past. There is no Control+ Z for infertility. Instead, I’ll have to accept bad days when they come, rejoice in the good days and pray the latter starts to outnumber the former.
Today marks 17 weeks in this pregnancy. I have not felt any other potential movement since Wednesday evening, which makes me think the pokes were a false alarm. I’ve found myself more uncomfortable lately and occasionally experiencing what Robin described as “lightning crotch.” I also feel stretching in my lower belly from time to time that requires an internal pep talk to keep me from picking up the phone and frantically calling the clinic.
Shaken by memories unearthed the night before, I set aside 10 minutes this morning to consult with the doppler. It took a good two minutes to find the chicken, which had me near hysterics, but I eventually found him, way low in my pelvis instead of up below my bellybutton like he was the last time we “visited.” A Google search (I know, bad infertile, put the Google away) assures me it is OK if the Chicken is this low one day and high the next.
I feel a tiny bit better after finding the heartbeat. I also decided that such stress requires soothing and treated myself to a chocolate soy pudding cup at 8:30 a.m. Morning pudding *might* have something to do with the 12 pounds I’ve gained! Eighteen more days until my next midwife checkup and 25 more days until my next ultrasound. Come on little Chicken! Start moving and shaking so I can feel you regularly. Mommy needs some peace of mind.