Chapter 1, part 2

OK, so where was I?

Young, conflicted, and scared, I suppose. And then I met Jeff. To summarize the first three years of our relationship: we met, got engaged, I freaked out, we got unengaged, Jeff moved to TX, we realized that we were/are meant to be together, I moved to TX, we got re-engaged, and finally, on May 30, 2004, we got married.



Not long after, I figured it was time that we give the baby-making routine that scared the bejeebers out of me (given that I felt destined to fail) a shot. I read "Taking Charge of Your Fertility" cover to cover. Was amazed by how little I knew about my body. Took my temperature (daily). Checked my cervix, the fluid, etc etc etc.

And here's where the story gets weird.

I got pregnant. The first cycle we tried. Yes, I was one of "those" women who I would later grow to hate. I was surprised, amazed, ecstatic. I was an uber-fertile woman! We had done it!

Three weeks later, I began spotting. The u/s revealed a fetal pole, but not the heartbeat that should have been present. Three days later, it was gone. It was over. We scheduled a D&C. I lay huddled on the couch, feeling empty. More than anything else, I felt that I had been right all along... I would get my due, my punishment would be meted.

It is hard to say what was stronger at this point- my desire to BE a mother, or my desire NOT to be infertile. Does that make any sense? I was willing to do anything in order to get pregnant. In retrospect, I am not sure I was able to see beyond the "getting pregnant" part... motherhood was a distant goal, one that was obscured behind the years of guilt, shame, and fear.