So, this evening as I was lying on the couch, feet in the air so as to allow all that goopy progesterone to saturate my uterus, I was feeling pretty darn low. It just seems like a bad sign, to be taking these supplements again and to have yet another ultrasound check scheduled next week. It is all too similar, I guess, to the sequence of events back in September. And then I started feeling crampy, just a little, and then when I got up and went to the bathroom, there was light spotting on the tissue.
I've had no bleeding since then, and the books and websites reassure me that slight spotting is normal after a vaginal exam. But everything from three months ago was flooding back to me, and all I could do was curl up on the bed and cry for a while. And whisper, "Please, please, let it be all right."
I hate this so much, all the worry and the waiting. I wish someone could just give me like a three-month dosage of Percoset coupled with a whammy of a sleeping pill (or, if the drugs aren't an option, just a well-placed right hook,) and that when I woke up all would be well. I guess I've voiced that wish before, haven't I? It's just so much more exhausting and tedious and nerve-wracking than I realized, the whole childbearing process.
I told Jim tonight, in a moment of frustration (ok, more like, at some point within the three hours of frustration) that I wished pregnancy didn't even exist. I wish you could just go online and order your baby from Amazon or something and then have it delivered in three to five business days. Sure, it would lack something of that whole our-bodies-are-so-strong-and-amazing feeling that usually strikes you at some point after forcing a live wrecking ball out of your body.
But it would also eliminate those feelings of failure and disappointment that can threaten to engulf you when something doesn't go according to plan during the process. You know, those nagging feelings of guilt and self-blame that hang out on the edge of your brain and taunt you even while all your knowledge of the randomness of biology tries to taunt back. "Why did you scrub the bathroom so vigorously?" says the pointing finger, while the voice of reason intones firmly, "Normal housekeeping activities have never been shown to cause miscarriage." But guess which voice is louder?