Since my last post, not much has changed. We have been working on paying down hospital bills before going ahead with more testing. With most of that debt taken care of, thanks in large part to your orders, it's time to get back to work. I have an appointment scheduled with my doctor to figure out what to do about my PCOS. It's in two weeks. That's the most progress we've made in awhile.
Today I'm having a harder day dealing with this journey. Honestly, I don't even like referring to it as our fertility plan. That sounds so severe to me. Right now, it's Operation Baby F. Operation Get My Ovaries Working. It's so frustrating to me to know that there's hope but that nothing else can really be done until I get on medication or something. Something. Two weeks feels like another eternity of waiting for me. Two more weeks added to the lengthy trajectory without a child of our own. It's only two weeks, but...
Since I started this testing, at least five couples in our acquaintance have announced their pregnancies on Facebook. Facebook. Not phone calls or anything, so obviously I'm not really close to most of these couples. Did that stop me from having emotional breakdowns nearly every time? No. Not at all. In a few instances I cried. For others, I painted ravenously. For another, I went shopping. Retail therapy. It works, people.
Speaking of shopping, I've started a baby trousseau. It's small. A few articles of clothing. I feel ridiculous every time I bring another piece home. I have no baby to dress in these things. There's not even a guarantee at this point that I will get pregnant. But with each sweet item that grabs at me, my heart burns and is reminded of what I am waiting and hoping for. A child. Memories to be made, dreams to be filled, a family to grow. So I put the clothes in a drawer and leave them there, letting the hope in my heart grow with them.
Two weeks... I can do this...Right? Right.
Love you! You can do it!
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