Over the last week, I have had the fever . . . bad. You know what fever I’m talking about – the baby fever. Ever since we switched out Abby’s crib for a toddler bed, I can’t get over the itch for another baby. While I enjoy watching her grow and learn each day, I am reminded of how quickly time has passed. As I watch her get excited to see babies at church, I think about how great a big sister she would be and long to give her a sibling.
If I were “normal,” we could just through caution (and contraception) to the wind and hope for the best. You know – the old fashioned way. The fun way. The way that I know my husband would look forward to as at least it brought the promise of some action. But I’m not normal.
In addition to the fever, I’ve been having phantom PMS/period symptoms this week. I’m not sure if scientifically there is such a thing after a hysterectomy but after the week I’ve had, I’m thinking that they need to study it if they don’t already. I’ve had the cramps, irritability, cravings, the whole 9 yards. I could have eaten my body weight in sweets (no that wasn’t me who was eating frosting straight out of the jar – or was it?). Needlesstosay, its been a slap-in-the-face reminder that I am not normal.
Infertility has once again become a fresh wound. Even more than the term “infertile,” “sterile” has become a word that haunts my thoughts. I can’t break out the BBT and stalk fertilityfriend.com looking for signs of ovulation. I can no longer visit the doctor for some medications that while they turn me into a crazy lady, they at least offer the hope for conception.
Instead every morning I stare at my scar. The scar that 30 months ago rendered me permanently incapable of bearing children and reminds me every morning of that day as I get dressed for work. The scar that every morning I want to give the finger because the pain-free days it promised where a myth. The scar that throbbed as I spent an hour heaving from the pain and the side effects of the pain medication. The scar that Abby sees and asks me what it is.
Since I am not normal, the fever entails much different plans. Exciting plans, but different nonetheless. At least we saved all of our paperwork from the first adoption so maybe it won’t take quite as long to go through the mounds of paperwork that accompany the paper-chase. Instead of counting days on an ovulation calendar, I look at the days on the calendar to calculate how long it will take to once again become “paper pregnant.” Like my pregnant counterparts, I will spend those days praying to avoid a loss – a failed match – of which we had two our first go round. I look forward to the day we get the call about the match and the anticipation of bringing home a bundle of joy.
So while the fever brings painful reminders of the past, it also gives hope for the future. A hope that will bring a little brother or sister for Abby and will make our family of 3 a family of 4. We hope to start officially start the paperwork next Fall so until then I will focus on the preparations and count down in giddy excitement to adding a new member to our family.
3 comments on “The Fever”
I know exactly what you mean. I have a six week old and dread the next time I have the fever. Good luck on your journey 🙂
The amount of babies/ pregnancies we’ve had in church lately will give any woman baby fever…
Congratulations on the plan!
[…] So when I hopped on the scale, it read 127. Not thrilled but considering my mood for the past week I was pretty happy the damage wasn’t worse (you can check out what I mean here). […]