So, I figured I’d share some discoveries we have made about our chances of having kids naturally (ie. without medical intervention). After working with incompetent and ambivelant doctors for about 6 years – telling us nothing was wrong, every was ‘normal’ and it would just take time, and not being willing to investigate the problem, we finally have a doctor who knows what’s going on. During my first & second visits, the good doctor asked us some key questions, then gave a preliminary diagnosis (based on various tests and pending confirmation by laparoscopy), and informed us our chances of concieving naturally and carrying a pregnancy to term were about 7%. Oh, so I’m not crazy, and I’m not making a big deal out of nothing!!! There’s actually something medically wrong.

So, on July 13 I will be going into day surgery for a laparoscopy to treat endo and PCOS (just 2 of the causes of our IF). This should raise our chances of being able to concieve from 7% to about 20%. And I will have a new regimin of meds added to what I already take. Will it work? How long till we know? What if it doesn’t? What do we do then?

Ironically, my biggest fear is not childlessness.

It’s acheiving pregnancy and then losing my baby. Again.

At this moment, I am a mother. But I cannot hold my baby in my arms, because he died while he was still in my womb. No one recognizes his existance, expect myself and my husband. We are expected to move on and forget. I have moved on, but I will never forget the feeling of carrying my first child in my body. Peter’s life and death has changed me forever. Two years ago having my own children was a nice idea, a dream that someday might be fulfilled. I was content to play Aunt to a myriad of children that make our lives beautiful and colourful. Now my arms are empty. And that is the most devastating void I have ever felt in my entire life. Peter was the answer to our prayers, the child of promise and destiny. But on the day he died, our dreams died and it seemed that all that was promised to us was a lie and a farce. I believe that life begins at conception, and I can tell you I knew when I fell pregnant, even before tests confirmed it, because I felt that life growing in my body. I knew when Peter died, two days before I miscarried, because I felt his life depart. So, to me, miscarriage is not just the loss of some blood and cells. More than ever, my experience confirms that it is the death of a precious child. And you can’t overlook the death of your child, even if you never got to hold him or her.

So, that’s what I fear the most.

And yet, we are compelled to take the risk. To spend all that we have in order to achieve the dream that so many take for granted and even scorn. Parenthood. Fatherhood. Motherhood.