For a while now, my mental queue of blog posts has included several on the topic of potential secondary infertility.
On how I wonder every time we read Brandt’s baby sign book if he’ll need the signs for “sister” and “brother.”
On how I don’t know how to respond when people assume pregnancy cured our infertility.
On how quickly after my cycle resumed that monthly sense of disappointment resumed with it.
On how I’ve started feeling leery of others’ pregnancy announcements again.
Last week, I started composing another post in my mind. Last week, this happened:
On our first attempt – an attempt we assumed would simply provide evidence of continued infertility – God surprised us with a pregnancy. So opposite from Brandt’s conception, yet equally awe-inspiring!
Then the mental draft of this post required yet another revision. I started bleeding – a little on Friday, then increasing more and more through the next several days. Yesterday, lab results confirmed my fears of miscarriage. For four short days, we knew about and rejoiced in this baby. For five long days, I said goodbye, giving this little one back to the Giver.
If you comment, please no words along the lines of, “At least now you know you can get pregnant on your own!” We know God did it this once; we don’t know any more than that. Right now, I’m missing this baby.