Panzerkunst

That’s what James calls mittelschmerz. Of which I have a bad case today. And it’s a mixed blessing, this pain in my right side. At least I know something is going on. That is a good sign. But it also scares me and forces our hand.

We do want another child, but we’re so scared to go through what we’ve been through 2.5 times before (or I’ve been through 4.5 times total). The .5 is for that one where I knew I was pregnant and the second line went lightly pink then I got my period a day later. I’m also one of the lucky ones that knows about a week after the sperm meets the egg. Yep, I get symptoms that quick. And I’ve been right every time, even when my doctors didn’t believe me.

Which brings me to the other part of this. I think the Nasty Bitch OB is leaving in December. I think. I’m not sure. I’ve looked on their website and she isn’t listed any longer and my mother read several docs were leaving that practice. Not the Nice and Nicer docs so far (thank goodness). I really should get in there and talk to them about the fact that my period has not been normal since the miscarriage at the end of January 07.

I should but I’m scared. The Nasty OB (I wonder if I should put her name here, or if that will get me into trouble? I’ve already left scathing reviews on my insurance website and another doctor review website) will still be there until December maybe afterwards. Maybe her leaving is a rumour. I should go in now.

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For those who don’t know or who don’t remember, she’s the heartless(insert scathing epithet here) who sent us BACK into the general waiting room full of pregnant women and babies after she’d told us ours had well, ‘stopped.’ And then told me it was because I was old. Oh yeah and she said I needed to see a psychiatrist because I told her I reacted badly to prometrium and provided her with documentation about how it exacerbates depressive tendencies in some women. Her words, and I quote when she told us that I was going to miscarry any time now were “sorry guys.” I’m still angry about that nearly a year later. I wonder if I always will be.

Even seeing her in passing makes me want to vomit. Really. I get angry and flushed and somethings shoot up while others fall and suddenly I want to cry and throw up and shoot fire out of my eyes at her.

But now the surgeries (on my mouth/gums/bones in my mouth) are over and complete. That is no longer a problem or risk. Halloween (our big deal every year–huge party, big buildup and anniversary) is now passed. I am at a decent, if not terribly slender, weight. I’m exercising and I’ve been taking my vitamins (now in the form of fertilaid to try and get my period back on track, which it seemed to help this time, maybe) and I’m in a better head-space than say, 4 months ago. Better I said, not superb. So why, when I know the egg is or is about to travel the ovarian superhighway am I hesitating?

Fear. Of it not working. Fear of something going wrong because, as the Nasty OB liked to tell me, I’m old. Fear of it looking good (as it did the last time) then disintegrating (as it did last time). The elation and the crash and burn. Fear of being terrified for 20 weeks until the amnio. Fear of stillbirth. Fear of being too old to handle another strong willed child. Fear of twins (hey, I’m old and it runs in my husband’s family). Fear , black, stinking, gut wrenching fear.

Not very romantic is it? Hard to get in the mood with a prehistoric monster using your guts as a trampoline and your brain as a xylophone.

It’s funny how easy this is all supposed to be and how easy it really isn’t.