If you need to catch up on this story:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
So after the miscarriage, my Dr. Wonderful said we had to take a couple of months off. Now that my equilibrium had returned, I started to really appreciate this. Even though I was aching to get started again, it had been over a year of being paranoid about everything- when I was drinking coffee or alcohol, what day I was on, if we should have sex or not. My doctor was essentially telling me to do absolutely nothing. Well, I jumped on that.
We had planned a trip out to the east coast because Scott had to go there for work. We have some friends out there that we hadn’t seen in years, and asked if we could stay with them. Besides taking my medicines, I didn’t have to think about anything at all, and we had a total blast.
They were so wonderful to be with, and thanks to them, we even got to watch the fireworks show on a rooftop in DC. I’ll never forget it. It was exactly what we needed.
When we could finally try again, I was more relaxed about it, because it was hard to get back into my previously punishing schedule after such a nice break. I started my medication late two months in a row. In the middle of all this, some other tragic events overshadowed the process and made it that much harder to deal with, but we limped along, and healing from those things actually gave me a whole new perspective. I was able to address the major problem that I had: I wanted to control this and I couldn’t. Thanks to my support group, I was able to find some tools to help me let go, and my grief gradually loosened it’s grip.
Five months later it was Christmas. I had visited a friend of mine and her new baby and I was finding it harder to keep it together. Holding him and rocking him was exquisitely wonderful but caused my heart so much pain. I cuddled him and cried silent tears while I scolded myself, trying to get a grip. I knew that the Clomid was going to work, it was just a matter of being patient, but the weight of the last two years was weighing heavy. I cried in the car on the way home, letting out some tears and hoping that would ease the pressure.
We were doing a lot of traveling and I was feeling more tired than I can even explain in words. I thought I had been tired before, and always thought it might mean I was pregnant, but this was different. I was just dead. I slept and slept and just felt like I was recovering from surgery. We were on a trip to Vegas when I basically came down with Narcolepsy. When we returned on January 4th, I finally let myself take the test. It was positive. 
I wasn’t exactly surprised, since I had convinced myself that it would happen again for us. I was just, relieved. As sure as I was when I was bleeding, I was similarly sure that this pregnancy was going to be okay. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be healthy, or if the baby was going to be healthy, but I knew that I would carry to term. I also knew he would be a boy. I didn’t claim these things out loud, because I had been yanked around a good amount for almost two years and I certainly wasn’t going to act like I was sure of anything now. But I wasn’t as nervous as I had been the first time. I looked for blood, but I wasn’t expecting to see any.
Sure enough, everything turned out okay. More than okay. I was not uncomfortable pregnant, I was miserable. I didn’t feel guilty at all complaining about how painful and alarming pregnancy was, because I had listened to my friends and in turn they supported me. They were wonderful, telling me how to cope, what to expect next, that I was doing fine. 
Ben was surpremely healthy, my body was doing it’s thing, no problems. I got to do each and every little wonderful thing that I had been dreaming about for years and the joy absolutely overflowed. 
When Ben was about a year and we decided to think about getting pregnant again, it was a different world. I counted the days and made a decent effort and we went about three months and nothing happened. I didn’t feel anxious about it, and Ben took up my whole heart and all my time, so it was not the same at all. I went to the doctor around month four and insisted that we try the Clomid again. Not because I couldn’t bear it, but the not knowing, unable to make plans when we were in the middle of buying a new house and everything else was difficult. Not break my heart difficult, but I thought for sure we would need it again, anyway. I went home after my appointment and a few days later I found out I was pregnant. So much for that!
I don’t feel those things that others talk about, like being glad for the miscarriage because otherwise I wouldn’t have had Ben, or thinking about that pregnancy as a child that I didn’t get to have. I don’t feel like it could have happened another way, and the truth is, I have Ben, and I have Alina, and I can’t possibly imagine them being someone else. But if I did have other children, and not these two, I would love them and be overjoyed to have them, and I wouldn’t be able to imagine Ben or Alina in the perfect ways that they are now, precious and dear to my heart. So, no, I don’t think of it quite that way, but I am grateful for the experience itself. I am grateful because it allows me to connect with more people, and understand with great love and sympathy those who are dealing with this now. My journey was a lot easier than some, and a lot harder than others, but it expanded my view of the world. It also gave Scott and I more time together and more time to work out a system for coping with rough times. It strengthened our marriage, and that has made this part (the raising of those hard won children) easier on us.
Am I more grateful for my children than moms who conceived in a heartbeat, or are the hard times easier because I longed for them so much? No, not at all. I am so grateful for my children and my heart flips while I stare at their perfectly sleeping faces, but the women I know who have not been through this feel the same way for theirs. It was a trial and very hard, and I savor it’s lessons and use them often. But honestly, it feels like another lifetime from the days I live in now. I just put it behind me and moved on, and I’m glad I was able to do that.
