At one point I had four doctors.
Recently having “graduated” from the fertility clinic I have been at for over three years, I now only have three.
Since day one all of them have assured me that what I’m feeling is natural, especially given my history.
They tell me everything looks great and right on track.
I’m having a hard time believing them.
Even though I’ve seen the black-and-white images of a tiny human doing somersaults with my own eyes.
Even though I’ve studied the positive test results and measurements.
Even though I’ve heard the sweet sound of a rapid heartbeat.
There is no doubt that I am being carefully monitored and yet, I’m still fighting to shake this sinking feeling.
Fighting to relax.
Fighting to carry this baby to full term.
Fighting to fully embrace this pregnancy.
Fighting to push the negativity out of my head and forcing myself to expect the best instead of the worst.
If I have learned anything through my struggle to get here, it’s that I have ZERO control, a devastating set back can happen at any moment and it’s better to protect yourself. That’s what infertility does to you. It forces you to keep on your toes, read into every twinge, keep your doctors all on speed dial and anticipate gloom.
So I will continue to fight and protect myself until this baby is safely in my arms.
For me making it successfully past the half way point is cause for [cautious] celebration, or in my case, compiling a short list of potential names, considering shower dates, preregistering at the hospital where I plan to deliver and browsing through a baby boutique where I allowed myself to purchase a pack of onesies.