The Bitch Is Back
Finally. A week late. She rolls in like nothing is amiss.
I’ve never been so happy to see her. The PMS symptoms started on time a week or two ago. Especially the bloat and the crazy. Was pretty sure I was turning into fat elvis. Fat crazy Elvis.
I don’t even know what to say/think/feel at this point. I’m impressed that I was able to get pregnant AT MY AGE. Fuck. One more Dr uses the term advance maternal age, I’m gonna go postal. *I* am not old you pompous fuck, my eggs are prematurely napping. Now give me a baby. And no, using AMA does not help. It makes me feel the same way about you a I feel about kids these days using abbreviations for fucking everything. Lazy fucking bastards.
Blarg. Did I just say “get off my lawn” to two thirds of twitter? I guess I am old. Whatever. Give me a baby.
But seriously. I’ve not even processed this miscarriage. I didn’t believe the pee sticks. The first ulstrasound showed nothing. The second the next day showed a perfect little heart beat measuring perfectly at 6 weeks. The third, at 8 weeks showed a 7 week fetus. Because I wanted to be careful, the fourth, at nearly nine weeks, also showed a 7 week fetus. I know that means there was probably something wrong and that its for the best yadda yadda, after all, my 42 year old eggs and all, and I was never comfortable in the fact that I was indeed pregnant,and, I’ve just tried to ignore the loss.
It’s just too heartbreaking to talk about. And brings the final, final transfer of the final three beautiful, they’ve got daddies eyes and mommies sarcastic sense of style, embryos. They are all day 6, grade two blasts. I think two might be expanded though. But, from 42 year old eggs. Uhg. Start running the stats on that and I will lose my ever loving mind. All my numbers are good. For my age. And I’ve already had kids, so we know the baby pocket works. But. You know. My age.
One minute I think it’s totally posible for one of those to be the golden egg. Then next, I’m pretty sure there is no way. None.
Ive decided to move forward as if it’s not going to work. Take more clients. Make more plans. Distract. Keep myself busy.
First step, bought ticket to BlogHer food in Seattle in June. Not that I have any plans to turn this into a food blog, (insert cucumber joke here) but I’m a huge foodie and I love Seattle and, oh, lookie that, it’s my former due date weekend. Perfect distraction.
So glad you booked that trip. Hoping for good things to come!
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