This may be the worst week ever for us, but I am more and more convinced of how incredible my husband is. (Not that I needed much convincing to begin with)
Having a miscarriage after over a year of trying to get pregnant, now means we’ve got to go see a fertility specialist. This poses a lot of theological questions and relational questions for me, and it generally stinks as well. J and I have officially become the 1 out of 6 couples that struggle with infertility. I keep finding myself in this group, and no longer find low statistical odds comforting–as it is just my luck to end up in the low statistic. That is apparently my number.
I had kind of forgotten about the whole wanting to be pregnant thing for a few weeks, and now this episode has just dragged this issue back into the forefront. I really don’t want trying to be pregnant to be at the core of everything J and I do, that just feels not healthy.
I still have to go back in for more bloodwork next week just to make sure my HcG levels have dropped to zero (since they aren’t there yet). I have thankfully stopped bleeding (finally). And I’ve now got to schedule another ob/gyn visit to see what’s broken before we decide what’s next.