Mother’s day is always an interesting mix of emotion for this former infertile, a day that catapults me back into mother’s day 2010, where I was still enduring a doomed tubal pregnancy just waiting for a much wanted pregnancy to fizzle. It was my second loss of the year and I pretty much shut myself off from the world that day. It was a tough one, and I always remember being there in my old townhouse, twitter as my only safe place in a world filled with “HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!”s.
Even now, two kids in, it feels very strange to be included in the group of women who Hallmark celebrates on this day. I love watching my son and my husband attempt to spoil me and Kate say “happy day!” and I certainly appreciate a day set aside to have a break. It’s always one of those true pinch-me moments, when my kid brings me flowers in bed with an enthusiastic “Happy Mother’s Day” and hands me a necklace fashioned at preschool, but I also can’t stop thinking about the many women I know who struggle greatly with this day every year. It’s the hardest of the kid-centric holidays, I think.
This year was a bit strange, as my period, expected Friday, was noticeably absent. I drank my mimosa with my bacon-stuffed waffles acknowledging that it was odd that I was late, but honestly there was no way in hell that it would be for the reason most would suspect.
We spent the day digging up this evil weed called garlic mustard that’s taken over half of yard and cannot be eradicated by being burned, sprayed, or cut. I told my husband all I wanted was grass for Mother’s Day. I ran out for dinner around 5 and nearly stopped at the drugstore then, but both kids were up from a nap cranky and I felt I needed to hurry home to my hungry brood. And who wants a negative pregnancy test on Mother’s Day?!
Monday morning, I eyed the berries suspiciously, and thought, man, a steak really sounds great. That was odd enough to warrant actually dragging two kids into Walgreen’s with me as I picked up their fluoride prescriptions to buy and pee on a stick in the dingy bathroom.
I didn’t really think there was a chance in hell, after all this time, that we would be shocked with a surprise pregnancy. After the 3 IUIs after Leopold and before Kate with not even a glimmer of a pregnancy, a less than stellar response to the IVF meds…and seven years into this…it just seemed….impossible.
Here we are.
I wish I could go back in time to a place where seeing two lines on a pregnancy test sends me into “OMG OMG I’m going to have a baby!”. I’m really, really, really happy. So excited that we may get to do this again, we really want another baby. My husband is so excited and elated, it’s adorable. This is my fifth pregnancy, my second without assistance.We will see, one toilet paper inspecting trip to the bathroom at a time…
I called my regular (kick-ass VBAC) OB and have an appointment scheduled for June 10th. I’m waffling on whether or not to go to my RE for betas and an early ultrasounds before then. I picked up the phone twice to call them yesterday, then chickened out. Being a normal patient who strolls in with confidence at week 8 sounds so nice, but with my ectopic history it may not be a wise choice to wait.
Holy shit, you guys. I cannot believe I may get to do this again.