Unexplained but Hopes and Wishes

So at times I’m ok and at times I think I’m going to be fine and then out of nowhere I cry. I just had my 10th miscarriage. It’s surreal. It’s horrific and it’s the sad repetitious hope and loss of hope that I’ve experienced as my reality for the last 8 years.

I’m unexplained still. We know I have MTHFR now and this last pregnancy was supposed to be the ONE! I was finally on all the right medication so of course it would work and it did until it didn’t. I knew the second the ultrasound started that my foolish belief that I would finally be a mother would end up dashed and broken yet again. My body wouldn’t let go this time and after waiting for two weeks for the miscarriage to start naturally.

While I also hoped it was just a mistake and I’d go in for an ultrasound and they would go, “wait there’s the baby and the heartbeat”, that I finally resigned myself to a D&C. I sit here now knowing that just a few short weeks ago, everything seemed possible and my husband and I had carefully planned how, at my birthday gathering with the family, we would joyfully share the news that not only made us blissfully happy, but would be a great joy to our family as well.

I’d be 11 weeks, waiting until then would be safe and it would be ok for everyone to be excited because 11 weeks would be farther than I had ever made it. I’ve only ever made it to 7 weeks, with a heartbeat…that was the ONE too until it wasn’t. Now, I’m just going through the motions. I don’t want to celebrate, I just want my baby back. I want to wish our family into existence and stop this roller coaster once and for all. I want my life to be dominated by something other than fertility options and costs. I don’t want to have to weigh the option of trying IVF and I don’t want to not get pregnant again, but I don’t want to get pregnant and have false hope take over my imagination and all rational thought just to be crushed again. I sometimes tell myself you could do this 20 more times and if the 21st time it worked you’d be OK.

I don’t want want to be scared that I wasted too much time, waited to long because hey, I can get pregnant, but now I’m going to be 36 and of course my eggs, which were questionable before are surely not up to par now. I don’t  want my personalty altered by these experiences anymore. I don’t want to be that person who can’t have a baby. I don’t want my husband to be sad. I want my husband to be a dad and for us to do mundane family things. I want to a big round belly with swollen ankles and the end result to be our blessing our dream.

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