Journal Entry

All I want is to have a baby, that's it.  I'm not greedy, I'll just take one.  I don't care if it's a boy or girl.  All I want is a positive pregnancy test, to celebrate that moment with my husband.  All I want is to hear the first heart beat and marvel at what we've made together.  I want to spend the next 9 months of our life pondering about what a little miracle we would be bringing into this world and wonder who they would grow up to be.  I want to shop for our baby's clothes, crib, nursery colors and to stress about the cost of diapers.  I want the cankles, the back ache, the vomitting, the "I feel like an elephant" feeling, the uncomfortableness, the "stop kicking me in the ribs" feeling.  I want to be panicked that we don't have a birth plan and we don't have "the bag" packed yet.  I want the rush of fear and excitement when my water breaks.  I want the hours of birthing, no matter how long that takes.  I want to pull my baby from me and cry with Josh when we finally get to look into our baby's beautiful eyes.  I want to feel their skin on mine.  I want to smell my baby.  I want the ache in my arms to hold MY baby to go away and to replace that ache with MY baby.  I want to get lost starring at him or her for hours with Josh on the couch.  I want to be up all night rocking my baby when they won't sleep.  I want to smell like throw up and not shower for days cause I'm so tired.  I want to be a mother.
I want an answer for 6 1/2 years of infertility.  I want to know why my body has failed us.  The Dr's can't give me one.  They say it's unexplained infertility.  To me, that's worse than explained infertility.  I mean I'm grateful nothing is wrong with either one of us but at least then I could come to terms with the fact that we would not be able to get pregnant.  There would be a reason for it, or there would be something we could do to maybe fix the problem.  But instead we get to get our hopes up every month again and again hoping for that stupid pink line.  We've been down this road before and it was Hell.
I'll never forget the day I did get my positive pregnancy test.  I had taken Clomid for 3 months and I told Shannon I was 5 days late.  She told me to go get a test but I was terrified it would be negative, it wasn't.  Josh and I cried, we were so excited.  We were going to have a Winter baby, Feb 7, 2006 was the estimated due date, right in between our birthdays.  I caught myself holding my belly, even though I didn't have one but Josh said I did, he thinks we were having twins.  He'd ask me why I was holding it, and I'd tell him "cause our baby is in there" and then I would rub it.  Stupid.  I went shopping with Shannon a few weeks later and we bought little things you don't think of at first like a bottle scrubber and a drying rack, nipple cream, a Boppy with a boy and a girl cover and some other little things.  The next day I miscarried, like a cruel joke.  I was 7 weeks along and we never got to hear the first heart beat.  I felt like I had failed Josh and I still do.  I failed him and our unborn baby.  I stayed in bed for a week grieving the loss of our baby.  I still have a hard day on the due date, it's like a day of mourning for me.
We started Clomid again a little over a month after that and tried it for another 6 months and did 2 IUIs.  No luck.  Then we took a break.  I was a wreck, couldn't handle anymore disappointment.  The depression of it was just too much for me and I hated it.
Those things we bought have been packed away in a tote in our basement along with a lot of baby clothes and bottles that Shannon gave to us waiting for a baby to fill them.
All I want is to be a mother and to make Josh a father.  Because I know we would rock at it.