It's been a pretty hard week or so.
I found out just before school started this fall that I was pregnant. It was a BIG surprise, needless to say, as we'd long given up on the prospect of anymore children.
Poor Brian walked into the bathroom to put some towels away only to find me standing there with my mouth literally hanging open and my hand trembling and holding a positive pregnancy test.
So yeah, SURPRISE! It took us a little bit, but before the end of the day we were both at least thinking that this could go well and we could add another room to the house by finishing the garage or something...and I got into the doc that Monday morning and started heparin and just a few weeks later, we had a heartbeat.
I didn't blog about it or put it on Facebook initially. We even waited to tell most family and friends until we saw a heartbeat, but the baby's growth was slow and apparently getting slower, so when I should have been 10 weeks, the baby's heartbeat was gone, and s/he was only measuring 7 weeks 3 days.
And so another ending to yet another pregnancy.
I'm well over 40. Our daughter is 3...and while we'd love to get her a sibling, we've come to the determination that we're done trying to do that biologically. Maybe after nursing school we can consider adoption, maybe we'll just be ok with the one we have. One is, after all, a miracle for us, and I certainly love the prospect of the simplicity of one.
So I had to go in to the hospital for surgery yesterday because I didn't naturally miscarry on my own...and while the doc was in the area, I had her tie my tubes.
Well, they don't tie them anymore...they use lasers and laproscopic surgery, so in all, it wasn't that painful.
But I digress.
So my little one who's joining all the other ones will be my last and final pregnancy.
I'm ok with that -- more than ok -- even relieved.
Moving on to another phase of life isn't always easy, and maybe there will be days when I grieve it more. But after so many disasters, I don't care to live through anymore.