It’s no secret that I want a third baby, that I’ve wanted a third baby since Isaac was a baby still. It’s also no secret that in that time, I’ve not been pregnant, despite no birth control.
My children are flukes. Conceived within a month of coming off the pill, both of them (with Amy because I was sick of being unwell, so stopped the pill, with Isaac because I’d bled for 6 weeks and they popped me on the pill to stop the bleeding) and we managed to time everything perfectly. Long time readers know this already.
Of course, it wasn’t until earlier this year that we discovered I have PCOS, which is why the pill actually helped with the conception (go figure, also, fuck you to the Gyn who suggested there was nothing wrong with me, it was all in my head* and there was NOTHING SUSPICIOUS about my conception history), but never mind that. Also suspected: Endometriosis, but we haven’t done a laproscopy to confirm, because of the Ehlers Danlos and unecessary operations thing. Go home and suck it up, buttercup.
I’m not sure what my chances of conceiving naturally are. I’m not sure I want to ask anyone, because numbers obsess me and the last thing my brain needs right now are more obsessions. I know that conceiving Isaac took 16 months of TTC and tears. I used to have a TTC category even, but it got amalgamated in a blog redesign.
All of this is to say, I just went through my two week wait. My two week wait that actually lasted 45 days, forty five very long days, with untold negative pregnancy tests and lots of complaining. What normal person has a 60 day cycle?
I DO.
APPARENTLY.
It doesn’t change the fact that I want another baby. It just changes the fact that the chances of me conceiving one naturally are pretty slim.
This is where my gynecologist comes in.
Conceiving another baby should always come with a side of ultrasound wands and ovary stimulating hormones.
I’ve got an appointment on the 5th of October. The idea is to get a script for Clomid and then see what happens.
I ummed and ahhhed over telling you this, Internet. You see, you tend to have opinions about people having babies and when they should have them and how many they should have and how they should definitely not have any more children once they’re past the point where YOU deem that YOU would stop.
(It’s just SELFISH, is what it is, these people daring to have BABIES in a way that I don’t think is APPROPRIATE.)
(Let me stop you there, before my eyes implode and I call you names that I really shouldn’t.)
(Really, you need to stop having opinions about my life.)
But, Internet, you’re not me and I want another baby.
Having a broken reproductive system doesn’t stop the wanting.
So I’m sharing this with you, because honestly, not sharing it has probably contributed to the insanity that I have been feeling lately. It seems that not writing things out is bad for my head. Whoa, newsflash.
Hopefully this ends up being easy. Hopefully the Universe smiles down upon us and grants us an easy pregnancy, with a happy smiling baby at the end.
Sure, it would be the only time the Universe has chosen not to fuck with us, but hey, a girl can live in hope.
*I think that there is something written on my forehead in ink that only doctors can read saying: Case too complicated, obviously is making it all up, send her home with NO HELP. ABORT MISSION. NO ONE CAN SAVE YOU NOW. But maybe I’m overreacting. I’ve got a lot of issues.