I'm antsy today. It is CD (cycle day) 11, and tomorrow we have our mid-cycle ultrasound to see if the maximum dose Clomid has helped me grow any dominant follicles. I am nervous for the ultrasound; I always get nervous before it. I always have the worst-case scenario in my mind, because the worst has happened to us too many times to realistically fake optimism...that just isn't our luck in life, as you've probably realized by now.

So, tomorrow, what if there are no dominant follicles and, therefore, no potential eggs? Our cycle will most likely be cancelled and we'll have to wait...again.

My worries don't stop there, though. Oh no. We know too much and are too many years into this process, with too many failures and heartbreaks, for that to be the simple end to our worries.

"Even if I do have one or two dominant follicles, what if the eggs don't release?" "What if, even if the eggs release (i.e., I ovulate), what if they are not fertilized?" "What if, even if the eggs are fertilized, the blastocyst does not attach to the uterine wall?" "What if, even if the 'early' embryo attaches to the uterine wall, the progesterone suppositories and Metformin and baby aspirin regimen aren't enough to sustain the pregnancy?"

I know...I know. Listing out all the potential points at which the whole cycle could go wrong isn't helping anyone. It isn't helping my own psyche, and it won't affect the process, one way or another. What is going to happen will happen, regardless of whether or not I'm fretting every step of the way.

As always, I'm just sad. I'm sad that this is our life--an incessant flood of worry, followed by brief-yet-guarded elation, followed by the inevitable crushing defeat when it's all taken away. It's so surreal to be in this position right now--where, even if everything goes right and we do get pregnant for the third time, our worry would only really begin in earnest with that positive pregnancy test. It isn't bad enough, apparently, that it takes so many different drugs and procedures and supplements to make my body become pregnant...now, after two miscarriages, we are dealing with all of the thoughts of "What if my body just isn't capable of carrying a baby to term?" "What if I keep getting pregnant, but never birth a living child?"

I wish I knew the answer to this question. If it isn't possible for me, I'd like to stop now, so that I'm not irresponsibly starting a life that will be inevitably ripped away from us. After losing our first child, I thought I'd never make it through the loss of another. But I did. I made it through. But, that does not mean I want to continue to experience it again and again. I know it's hard for people to understand...those who haven't had to watch in horror as their unborn baby leaves their own body. When you want a family as much as we do, when you've tried for years and years because you've never once questioned whether or not you wanted to be parent--it is that instinctual for you--the thought of losing another baby makes you want to die. I am not being over-dramatic by saying that. Each time I learned one of my babies didn't make it, I wanted to petition to Someone above to please reverse the decision and take my life instead of that precious child's.

Oh, how I long for the life of a fertile person, if only for one cycle. It seems like such a small favor to ask for in the grand scheme of things. I long for a conception without invasive medical procedures. And I long for the unbridled joy, without dread for another loss, that should accompany a positive pregnancy test. Mostly, though, I long for the (I think) not-so-unreasonable expectation that a healthy baby will enter this world nine months after s/he is conceived.

What if that were an option for me? What if...

-Em