At my six-week appointment, my doctor asked the usual question about birth control. And I gave him the usual IF answer of, "well, we thought we'd go ahead and not give a bunch of money to Dr. S and shoot up a whole bunch of times and mix our gametes in a dish..." He, of course, had to remind me that it can and does happen that people get "lucky" after an IVF pregnancy. I scoffed at him (and secretly hoped he would, in like two years, prove me wrong.)
Don't worry, I'm not a blogging miracle and this is not that post.
I've been one of the lucky ones for whom breastfeeding acts as a natural show-stopper. Yay me! Birdie will be six months old next week (yeah, I can't believe it either) and it looks like my luck has just now run out. Birdie does not sleep through the night (we still get up to eat 1-2x) and she has eaten solid foods only sporadically. I guess it was just our time.
There's a part of me that's relieved. I don't know why. I didn't want my "fertility" back. Not yet, at least. I don't want to deal with the people who assume I'm "cured" because I had a baby. I don't want to wonder about #2. I told P months ago, as he was insisting that Birdie was going to be an only (knee-jerk reaction to seeing the trauma his wife has gone through over the last five years and not an actual decision on family size, mind you) that if we didn't take measures to prevent, we ran the possibility of a spontaneous pregnancy. Even if I didn't believe it myself, I wanted to make sure he was clear on that fact.
He laughed at me.
I secretly hoped... well, I honestly don't know what I hoped.
I'm not sure who I am now. I'm not sure what I want. I'm pretty sure I don't want to use birth control. But then am I going to wonder each month? Will I pay attention to the details of my cycles? Will I be so consumed by caring for my baby that I won't think to do these things? I have no idea.
I'm sitting here typing this hunched forward because it feels better on my lower back. Ahhh, yes. My old friend. I do know that I hoped, however irrationally, that the endo was gone. I suspect I didn't luck out there.
Right now I'm listening to the sound of rain over the baby monitor and I hear a little girl squirming around in her crib.
In about five minutes this post will not be on my mind anymore because I'll be attempting to keep a baby from rolling over while I try to change her diaper. I'll forget to go to the bathroom because I'll be reading "Little Duck" again and P will walk in and the baby will swivel around to look at him and smile and I'll think how lovely and perfect things are right now. I got one miracle already. I'm happy.