So, the reality of this whole being infertile thing is starting to hit me, HARD. What can I say, self-preserving denial has always been a particular talent of mine. I have my first appointment with my Reproductive Endocrinologist on March 19th. And I am terrified. I'm praying that my thyroid disease is the cause of all my problems, because that's fixable. I'm so scared that this doctor will find out that there are other things wrong with my lady parts.
With secondary infertility comes a strange sort of survivor's guilt. So many women would die for just one child, and I already have a beautiful little girl (who, at the moment, is forcing me to type one-handed because she's attached to my arm like a little monkey). I feel like I sound ungrateful for wanting another baby so badly. I feel like I should just shut my mouth and praise God for the one child He's blessed me with.
I have to remember to ask my neighbor to watch my kid, because I can't take her with me to the freaking fertility clinic. I can't imagine inflicting my toddler on a waiting room full of women who can't get pregnant. They'd throw my ass out the door!
It's been 13 months since my husband and I started trying for another baby. For fuck's sake, I got pregnant the first time on the first try. Literally, I conceived THAT MONTH. It's maddening to think about.
Please keep your fingers crossed for me! I'm going to go keep myself busy cleaning house and putting my pictures up on the wall.