February 12. It comes around every year. This date on the calender that haunts me. This is the day that kicked off 5 years of medical/infertile/marital hell! But, we survived and are better for it. Stronger. More compassionate. More flexible, loving, and thoughtful. (I hope)
On this date, 6 years ago now, I woke up to miscarrying our child. I'll spare you the details. You're welcome. :0) This unfortunate event segued into doctors visits, blood draws, tests, ultrasounds, more tests, "by the way, you have cervical cancer", medications, surgeries, and on and on and on. The results of that led to years of trying to get pregnant; more tests, more surgeries, more invasions of my body than I ever would of thought.
As you all know, the end result is that at age 32, I now know that, barring some insane miraculous occurrence, I will never be a mother to a biological child (I word it that way because we still consider adoption sometimes), And, most days, now, I'm accepting of that. But, on today, as morbid, depressing, and macabre as it may be, I reflect on the times and life we might of had. I'm just glad my hubster is off work and I don't have to go through it alone. So today we will celebrate our child, our dreams, and our life.....together.