Again

I remember trying to get comfortable with my 5.9 month pregnant belly when lying in bed, carefully maneuvering the 4 pillows I had around me into all the right spots. I remember wannabe dad talking to the girls each night, telling them how excited he was to meet them and chase them and be The Papa. It was a time of joy, being happily uncomfortable, and just planning for our future with our girls just took my breath away. The thought of being pregnant again scares me, because I don't want to lose another beautiful, perfect baby. Cerclage, 6 months of bedrest, I could handle (ok I'm lying about being able to handle 6 months of $*%&*%# bedrest). Losing another baby would surely break me.

The whole "you can have another baby" bullshit thing that people say...I don't have to say how insensitive that comment is. Hubby and I have talked about it, and at the very least I don't want to be pregnant on the girls' one year birthday. It would be too much. I want to cry my body out without stressing a baking baby. However, even getting pregnant won't be that easy since my cycles are not the textbook 28 days -- they are more like 48, 36, 40, with ovulation every other cycle. It took 6 months of charting my temperatures and I can't even pinpoint the exact day our parts met to make the babies. I'm not one of those "and before I knew it, I was pregnant," or "I just got off the pill two months ago" women, and all that crap about "just relax and it'll happen"? Please. All these years I spent avoiding conception, and I find my awesome husband and we can't have the family we want.

Add to this my "it happens to 40% of all pregnancies" miscarriage in 2005, I should be fucking nuts by now! Cuckoo corner! I am being patient, or at least trying it, holding on to the fact that my mom had me & my brother in her late 30s, and my aunt on my dad's side got pregos at mid-40.

Just a little rant to end this lovely day of hump.