Mourning sickness

The surgery is officially in 23 days. I’ve gone through a gamut of feelings about it. I went from dreading it, to being excited about the possibility of ttc again, to now, where I am a mixture of the two.
On the one hand I feel excited about the future and ttc again. The possibility of getting pregnant again is exciting.
On the other hand I feel terrified. I feel terrified of another surgery possibly causing damage to my already defunct uterus. I feel terrified of feeling out of control about the future. I feel terrified of being pregnant and not being in control of my health and being a neurotic mess about doing things “right”. I feel terrified of not knowing when to trust my instincts. I feel terrified of the fertility decisions that lay ahead of us and the amount of time remaining to make those decisions.
The decision is how aggressively we want to pursue fertility intervention. Specifically, clomid (which isn't that "agressive" really). My gut says not to resort to it for at least a few months to give us time to try “naturally.” But I know that we will be most fertile in the first 6 months after the surgery. So the dilemma is to make the most of our most fertile time or not? My doctor is advising us to start clomid immediately after the surgery. I just don’t know. Keith and I haven’t talked about it yet. We still have a few weeks to make a decision and I don’t want to beat the topic to death with him. I’m thinking about it, but I don’t feel pressured to make a decision.
I’m leaning to having a consultation with a magic 8 ball.

The surgery consult is June 2nd, two weeks away. We’ll be able to ask some questions then.

I'll take potpourri for $200

I had another appointment with my psychologist last week. I went alone this time. It was good. She really helped me understand that my lack of control over what happened and my lack of control over the future is what is giving me so much anxiety. I’m not exactly sure how to fix that yet, but I’m sure she’ll help me. She suggested setting aside time for myself each day. I haven’t done it yet, but I’d like to.

I finished the garden…

The peonies are my favorite. Keith brought me the biggest most brilliant bouquet of flowers I’ve ever seen yesterday with peonies. He is so sweet, the most wonderful husband in the world.
Also, Saturday my ectopic pregnancy trust box came (great timing!). I got a couple t-shirts, pins and cell phone charms. I wore one of my t-shirts all day yesterday.

Un-mother's day

Yesterday was an emotional day for me, as I’m sure it was for many. I stumbled across a great poem another blogger wrote. To all the sweet, precious, delicate petals our flowers have lost:

Not just today.
Not just during daylight.
Not just during night time.
Always and every day.
Absent and yet so present.
Missed and so deeply loved.



1 month until my next surgery.

You can hate it or love it

I got blindsided at an open house I was doing yesterday. I never even saw it coming. Allow me to set the scene… A couple in their 70’s came to see the house. They thought the main house might be perfect for their son and his family and the in law apartment for themselves. As I was taking them through the house they were telling me about their children and grandchildren. After about 20 minutes they decided that the house had too many stairs for them. Since they had been talking about their family when they left I wished the wife a happy mothers day next weekend. I should have seen it coming… her sweet little old husband turned to me and asked if I was a mother. I was so shocked that I didn’t know what to say. I said no. He smiled and said that someday I would be. And I’m sure he’s right. But in the meantime, this mother’s day sucks. I just want to hide. I don’t want to see mother’s day advertisements or commercials. I’m taking my mother to a Best of Broadway performance on Saturday night. I’m hoping to just be alone on Sunday. It’s going to be a hard week. But I hope that the mere recognition will make it easier.

It’s like I’m stuck. But I have to make progress. I can’t stay this way forever. The countdown to the next surgery is 38 days. I hope that by the time that it’s here I’ll be doing better. But I’m afraid. What if I am this way forever? We’re seeing our psychologist on Wednesday in a positive effort not to remain lunatics forever. I shouldn’t speak for Keith. He’s not a lunatic.

In positive news, we made a new garden this weekend. I love it. It came out so nice. I love gardening so much, even though I got stung by a wasp this weekend. Ouch! It was worth it. We still have some more planting to do, which I’m hoping we’ll be able to do tonight before dark.