I called today to make an appointment with a reproductive endocrinologist... the poor girl on the phone was practically in tears when I told her my story. A few hours later she called me back and said she talked to the doctor and they actually only do embryo preservation so unless I can find someone willing to contribute they aren't going to be able to help much. It was up to me if I wanted to still keep the appointment or she gave me some names of some other DRs that may be able to give me some other options... so now I have two appointments with two different doctors. This is all a little too much on top of everything else - I just don't want to regret not trying all that I can - though I'm not sure I can do this all myself.
They needed some info, some dates and stuff and things are all starting to get foggy. Luckily, I found the box that had all my fertility info in it and came across all the journals and notes I made through the years. I started these mini novellas - documenting all that was baby... with titles like Swimming in Quicksand and others just as dramatic. ;-) Somehow I've always been able to keep my head above the quicksand.... even if it was just peeking out. After all the other losses - my mother, and RoseBud after the hike and all the miscarriages and my husband leaving me... and now, cancer... I honestly have to ask myself - is this one last attempt at a baby going to be the thing that puts me under?
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