Gilly intro

Hi. I actually wrote my first post a year ago. I’m gonna go ahead and copy/paste that.

6/13

“How can I do this for another month?” I ask myself. Again. My period isn’t due for another few days, but I’ve been in this sadistic rodeo for long enough to know that I am out this month. 10 dpo (days past ovulation, for all you rookies), negative tests (yes, plural. A few a day. For 3 days already). The zit on my chin is what confirmed it for me. I always get chacne days before my period. I’ve been pregnant 3 times in the past 7 months-all ended in early miscarriage (5-7 weeks) and each time, my chin was zitless. 

We are now a few months shy of 3 years trying for baby number 2. I am 36, my husband 37. My daughter is 5.5...and every month that passes makes all of us another month older when it eventually happens. That is hard for me to swallow. I wanted and honestly felt like I needed my daughter’s sibling to be close in age. My sisters are both 1.5 years older/younger. My husband’s brother is 2.5 years older. I never expected it to take this long. 

My hormones tested normal a year ago. My husband’s sperm tested normal 6 months ago. I finally had a blood work panel done a couple of weeks ago, and it is also normal. I don’t drink or smoke. I eat mostly healthy and am active. I’m at a healthy weight. But my body fails me cycle after cycle, and robs me of my sanity and oftentimes my happiness. 

Secondary infertility is a real mindfuck. It is a lonely, maddening, devastating thing. “Unexplained secondary infertility” -is it even a real diagnosis? There must be SOMETHING wrong that can be fixed? It is so beyond frustrating and seems lazy. 

 Some may think that because I was blessed with my daughter that it must be easier for me. I am thankful every day for my daughter, and feel like the luckiest to have her. But I also feel like I am failing her month after month, not only because she asks me all the time for a baby brother or sister, but also because of my lack of presence. My mind is often elsewhere. I’m a shell of a person, and not the best mother I can and should be to her. I’m so focused on successfully getting pregnant, and it gets worse each month. I sink into a depression. I don’t have focus for her. I don’t have patience, I’m not as fun as I could be. I’m not as happy. I’m not myself. I’m so lost. This added guilt on top of monthly devastation and depression is a mix of feelings I cannot begin to describe. 

But alas, onto the next cycle. 

...The above was written in 2018. 14 Cycles have passed sense then. You can imagine what a psycho zombie I have become sense.