The Whole Truth

I don't really want to be pregnant. Really. I'd like to give birth, but mostly because I'm just curious- and want to see if I could do it. I'm totally and completely fulfilled with adoption. The only reason we even got on the crazy making roller coaster again is because doing a home inspection while buying a house is a little much. I don't recommend fertility meds either, but... whatever. I have the patience of a gastrotich. I don't even know how patient a gastrotich is (or what it even looks like), but they have the lifespan of three days, so it can't be much.

I needed to feel like I was doing something. So, what the hell. Throw some Clomid at it and a little Hcg for a boost. We are headed down the last hill of this roller coaster. Confirmed by the doc today we're at our limit. Without trying for the Major Leagues of fertility treatments- we're done. We have two shots left. Both on my right ovary. Honestly, I'm a little relieved. And a little irritated. And a lot confused. With all that modern medicine has to offer there are no more answers today than there were months and months ago. There is no substantial medical reason for us not to conceive. Unless the reason isn't medical at all. But that's another post (or three or four or six).

What I'd really like is to feel completely satisfied with my Scrunch. It's not about not being satisfied, but the nagging and persistent feeling that we are not done. The feeling that we need to find our baby. A few years ago, some friends of ours called to tell us they were expecting their second child. They weren't planning on it and not entirely thrilled with the timing. Neither was I. It was one of the last times I cried when I found out someone was pregnant. I don't really enjoy hanging out with pregnant people, but I don't hate them either. Whether or not you conceive doesn't really affect me in the slightest. I just don't want to hear you bitch about it. I couldn't explain why it didn't bug me as much as you'd think it would, until a few weeks ago. I was talking to some other moms who had adopted and one shared her experience of being incredibly upset when a friend was placed with two babies only six weeks apart. They were still waiting for their first, and had been for a really long time. She said, "It just wasn't fair." That's when another mom piped up and said, "No, it's not fair. Those were her babies. But you don't want her babies. You want yours."

That's where I'm at today. I don't care where they come from, or what I have to do to get them here, or even how long I have to wait. I just want my babies. It chokes me up to say that out loud. My babies. That's exactly what our birth mom said to me the first time I met her, and our daughter. She turned her big 'ole belly towards me, reached out her hand and said, "Would you like to feel your baby?"