So, we decided that we wanted to have another baby. A living sibling for Avery. I mean, we've probably always known, but we decided we were "ready." Whatever that means.
I am not one of those people that you read so much about; I didn't suddenly become fertile after having a baby. I still don't ovulate; I still need help. Thankfully, the help I need is "minimal," meaning I take a pill and I ovulate.
It still means a trip to the RE. Which I did.
We decided to take the same plan of action as before. Get period, take femara (like clomid, but has a decreased chance of multiples) have a mid-cycle ultrasound to check and make sure there is only one follicle, timed intercourse, pregnancy.
I knew I needed to keep my head into perspective, not let it get lost in the clouds. I wanted to tell people right away, but I wanted to keep it to myself. The twins and Avery were both conceived on our first round of medication. I seem to be the "most fertile infertile." I am lucky. But I didn't want to convince myself that would happen, for fear of the letdown.
Anyway, the only way I get a period is to take birth control, which I did. Days 3-7 I took my femara. Mood swings, bad headaches, nothing awful.
Yesterday I went in for my mid-cycle ultrasound. DH couldn't go, it was the first day of the semester and he got all new students and I went before school.
The tech inserted the good 'ol va-ja-jay wand, and I watched her measure one follicle in my left ovary at 16 (mm? I don't know what measurement it is). Then I watched her turn her wand, and measure one follicle in my right ovary. 16 again.
I lost it. I freaking lost it. First of all, I had a TERRIBLE doctor's office visit. The doctor was extremely rude to me. She said and did so many things that I don't want to go into (but I did report to the clinic) but after the u/s she did not explain a single thing to me. She said, "Well, it looks like you have one if not two follicles. Great."
Um, excuse me. Is it one OR two ? You see, that's why I'm paying $150 for this ultrasound.
Anyway, she didn't answer any of my questions, but a nurse did later on the phone.
TWO large follicles. One in each ovary. Ready. Waiting.
I am showing other signs of ovulation, which I never have. Cervical mucous, slight cramping.
I cannot believe how hard this is. To skip a cycle. To know that I could make a baby (and quite probably two) right now, but I can't. I have to wait. I have to sit and wait and go against EVERY fiber in my being.
Because, you see, having twins would be too dangerous.
But it's all I ever want.
It's all I had.
It's all I'll never have.
Having twins won't replace Aiden and Sophie. Of course it won't.
But I feel SUCH extreme jealousy when I see twins. That's supposed to be me! ME! That was me, you see. I sat in a restaurant after my ultrasound and I called everyone I knew and screamed in the phone, "TWINS! OMG! YOU GUYS! TWINS!" and I sat in the teacher's lounge with a smug look on my face when someone new would come in and I'd be introduced as the "Twin Mama."
And I bought every twin book I could find. I memorized what I would do to tandem breastfeed. I came up with a gameplan about how I would get two babies in and out of the minivan we had just bought, just for them. I joined the local Moms of Multiples club, and made plans with my mom to go to their huge consignment sale to get ready.
I made their nursery. I watched my husband put up two cribs and two gliders. I carefully chose the paint for their room. I painstakingly picked out two outfits for their coming home outfits. One a size newborn, and one a size "preemie" because, you know, sometimes twins are born early (no one mentioned 16 weeks early, which they don't seem to make a size for at Target.)
I was (am?) a twin mama, but they're not really anywhere to be found. They seem to have vanished. Sometimes, when I'm brave enough, I'll go and touch their urns. It seems so strange to sit there, holding the cold urn, turning it in my hand. Is this really it? This is all?
So, yeah. I want twins again. I WANT TWINS AGAIN.
What if the whole thing happened all over again. What if my water broke and I had to do the whole.damn.thing.over.again.
And what if I could have avoided that, by skipping this cycle?
So, skip we will.
Even if there's nothing in the world I want more. I will move on and try to forget and hope my body will figure out that I just one want follicle, that's all I can handle, I don't know why my babies died and I can't chance it. I have Avery now and I can't be on bedrest. And so even though I'm on the lowest dosage, "You know we can't control how many eggs a woman produces" says the rude doctor with venom in her voice.
Well, excuse me for being upset about it. But I can see on that screen, the chance. The future. All within my grasp. And instead, I have to turn and walk away, and tell my husband that, "No, honey, I'm sorry, it won't be this month for us." And he'll say back, "It'll be ok. It's always ok."
Except it always isn't.
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