I'm pretty sure I won't have visions of sugar plums dancing in my head.
I'm pretty sure it will be a repeat of Saturday Night.
Maybe I should have another big glass of wine?
I mean, isn't pretty common for conception to occur with the assistance of wine?
It feels surreal to be sitting here with a transfer scheduled for tomorrow morning. At times, it is inconceivable (no pun intended) to think about how many twists and turns this trip took. Our journey into the world of secondary infertility started innocently enough at a friends' wedding weekend. There were so many special things about that weekend. It was Mr. T's birthday. It was one of his best friends getting married. I love his bride. It was held in the city where Mr. T and I lived, dated and got married. It was sort of a homecoming weekend. All of that, and we were ready to expand our family. It seemed so fitting. So special.
15 months ago, we were so innocent. We weren't jaded, hurt and overhwelmed. We had no idea about ectopic pregnancies and AMH/FSH levels. I had only had routine blood work once or twice in my life and had never once had an internal ultrasound. I believed that we would be successful in the same manner in which we were with Toddler T. I had no way of knowing the depths of soul searching I would do. The hurt I would feel. The disdain I'd feel for my body and the feeling of a total loss of control.
So, I sit here on my couch. Toddler T is asleep in his bed and Mr. T is out at a dinner for work. I am responding to all the good luck text messages I had received since yesterday. (I picked the WORST time to drop my phone into a glass of iced tea yesterday. And for the record, putting it in a zip-lock bag with rice does work.) I am struggling with what I want to say and how I want my words to come across. This is a terrifyingly exciting feeling to be having. Terrifying, because, there is a chance this doesn't work. Exciting, because it could.
Over the past 13 months, I have often said that my problem isn't getting pregnant. It's getting pregnant in the RIGHT spot. I have since learned that I had a few more issues than that. But tomorrow, I will have surpassed those issues. Yes. I'm a poor responder. But dammit I made some eggs and they even fertilized and started to divide. Yes. I have undetectable AMH and a high FSH. But I'm also only 34. Tomorrow that is in the past. Tomorrow I am asking my body to do what I BELIEVE it can do. Support an intrauterine pregnancy. It is time to put my money where my mouth is.
I grow babies well. Toddler T was born at 41 weeks and 9 pounds 1 oz.
I can do this part. I know I can. I just needed the chance.