"Take the French out of your mouth and tell me what to do."

His voice is tentative, wary. I don’t blame him as all things baby have the potential to make me cry. “Have you thought about taking those prenatal pills? You know, the vitamins? Maybe that would help.” I look at him to see if he’s joking. He’s not. I laugh. “I’ve been taking prenatal pills daily, since October of 2008. In fact, just the other day I was wondering if I was going to be on them for the rest of my life.” “Oh.” I was pretty sure I was getting PTSD from my doctor’s office. The amount of times I’ve sat in my car and cried after an appointment would probably take both hands and a foot. Then there are the times I cried IN the office. Not to mention my daughter’s pediatrician’s office is in the same building, so you have to take into account the appointments I brought my rashy non eating baby in while hopped up on post partum/breastfeeding hormones with a side of sleep deprivation and cried there too. I’m a crier. Obviously. Steel Magnolias? Hell yes. Blogs? Books? All the time. Sesame Street songs that tell the kids that everyone is different, but that’s just fine, we all deserve to be loved and respected just the same? Sob. Fest. But I try my best not to do it in public, in front of large amounts of people. These past 6 months just haven’t lent themselves to that rule. I had my post miscarriage appointment yesterday and I was nervous. My stomach was all stressed out. I was positive I was going to receive the ‘no sex for 2 to 3 months without condoms’ lecture. Which I would have stubbornly ignored. I am a 32 year old married woman trying like hell to conceive a baby. There’s no fucking way I was going to cry my way through the most embarrassing isle in Wal.mart to buy condoms. Blow me. Then I expected to hear the equivalent to ‘them’s the breaks when you’re trying to make a baby sista, it happens to the best of us’ with a pat on my head and then be sent on my merry way. Not looking forward to it. I go in and she tells me; “It’s been a tough year so far hasn’t it? Usually we don’t start doing interventions until after a third miscarriage, but really, you don’t need to go through this again if we can prevent it.” I almost jumped across the office to make out with her. There’s nothing I like more than Plans. Shit to do at certain times. Written down no less. She sent me out with orders to take a month off of trying, a list of vitamins to take, blood work to do, cervical mucus to inspect, (YAY.) and a prescription to fill should I get a positive test. Instructions. From someone who deals with this daily, educated in how to knock me up. But more than any of that, I left that office with HOPE. I wasn’t sure I had any left. But it’s there. Sitting quietly. Helping me not lose my shit when I go get the vacuum out of what should be a finished nursery. Saving me tomorrow, fingers crossed, on the due date of the son I lost. That I will give my daughter a sibling. A baby to grow in my belly and make me feel like shit for 9 months, that I get to take home. To love forever. Someone to look across the table at G in 10 years to roll their eyes at how lame their mom and dad are. Someone who will have the same environment as G, but will experience it differently, so they’ll be able to add different perspective when things are tough. Her friend for life. I hope. I had lost it, 2011 has been tough on me. On us. While at the same time being so beautiful watching my daughter learn and grow. I’d just like to experience it without the dark shadow of sadness. So. I will take this month off of trying to conceive. I’m excited about that really, nothing like realizing that you don’t have to have sex to make you want it. I’ll have a few drinks here and there. I’ll get my ass on the treadmill as much as I can. And, maybe I’ll greet my next period (you totally thought I wasn’t going to mention it right? Maybe I’ll just have to find a way to fit it in to each post from here on out.) with a sense of purpose; my body is healed, and ready to support new life. Instead of balling for 3 days. I’ll be all vitamined up, I’ll know what to do when. And if it doesn’t work, I’ll try again. Or go back and ask for help, because she’s on my side, and she might have more ideas. It’s nice to have people in your corner. Especially ones that went through 5 billion years of schooling, and have been working in the exact field you’ve having troubles with for 25 years. High five for that.