That brings me to Tuesday, January 10th. Instead of holding my beloved niece, I'll be back up in stirrups with Mr. Wandy, trying to figure out the game plan. Yay. I can hardly wait. Oh, I'm sorry, did you step in the sarcasm puddle? My apologies. I keep asking myself...how the eff did I get here? How did it come to pass that I have to see a doctor to get pregnant and carry a baby? There's probably about a million different little things that I did to encourage this infertility, but I can't think of them. Or maybe I didn't do anything and this was going to happen one way or another. Well...that's shit. Just shit. There's gotta be a reason, right? Maybe it's the fact that my mom was diabetic with me (not type 2, type 1. The kind you had to take insulin with, since she was 13). That's some hard stuff to deal with. But she dealt with it and came out with two babies. I can do it too.....right? Maybe I was too fat for a short period of time (I lost 50 pounds after I got married. Can I get a high five, y'all) and that screwed me all kinds of up.
So. I'm sort of angry that I'm in this place, instead of having a nice easy time getting pregnant and staying pregnant. I'm fretting that I can't control everything that Dr. R does. I hate my body for going haywire and now I have these
Now, if you'll forgive me, I have to go shove a pill down a cat's throat. Toodles.
These million little things YOU did.... I don’t believe it not for a moment. You did the same things that every other person your age did...as for the extra weight...you should revel in the fact that you lost it; not that it might have "done something" As for your Super Awesome Ovaries not like you sat down when you were 11 and said OK now what can I do to drive myself nuts when I’m older…. Please don’t beat you up… The world is more than happy to do it for you without you doing it to yourself….. Hang in there…
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