So, today I went in to do my office hysteroscopy. Good times. In all honesty, it was hardly painful at all - not painful, really, just a bit uncomfortable for 30 seconds - and over more quickly than I remembered. Sounding as well, plus some bloodwork.
Because, in spite of my epically cranky toddler who yesterday made me wonder why anyone in their right mind would want to have two of these things...FET, here we come.
This feels so different from the first time around, I can hardly explain it. Don't get me wrong: I'll be sad if it doesn't work. But I feel like we hit the baby jackpot so well that it almost seems greedy to try again. Like the universe only has so many babies available per year, and I would hate to take one away from a family that doesn't even have one yet. (I realize this is not how it works, although it would go a long way toward solving the "unexplained infertility" phenomenon.)
Toddlers are hard, for sure, but also delightful. Usually in the same 5 seconds. There are times when I wonder whether another one is such a good idea, but those moments don't last too long.
A big part of my motivation to have another child is because I want a sibling for our first. I have two brothers, and it's hard to imagine my life without them. I think about the future day (a long way off, I hope) when my parents aren't around anymore, and I am deeply grateful to have brothers who will still be a part of my life, a representation of that childhood-family. The people who know all the growing-up stories and the old history that disappears once your parents are gone, if you don't have siblings.
It's just that "having a sibling for my daughter" is a thousand times different as a motivation than, "having a child." Like wanting chocolate frosting for my cake when the best part is that I actually have cake to start with. I realize that having a second child changes your life, but I don't think it changes your identity as fundamentally as going from non-parent to parent: parent-of-one to parent-of-two is more of a strategy shift. Moving from zone defense to man-to-man, as my husband is fond of saying.
Also, sometimes I am scared that we have such a good life now, such a great child, that we are doing nothing but inviting trouble by daring to have another one.
(This ability of mine to always look on the crappy side is probably an inheritance from my northern European ancestors, who lived in countries where making meat out of a sheep bladder was considered a delicacy and it is dark 23 hours a day in the winter. "It will probably get worse" seems to course through my veins.)
At any rate, despite my fears of tempting the Baby Gods, we are scheduled for a transfer at the end of August. Because my husband is a teacher so it would be nice to have a baby at the end of May, just before school gets out.
Because, you know, I somehow have the audacity to imagine that we might actually get a baby out of this deal. Double third-fingers to you, Infertility.
The best thing is, that under the worst circumstances, we end up just having one absolutely delightful (occasionally super, crazy irritating) child. When I think about my terror, a few years ago, that we would never even be here, it takes my breath away. I'd like a little frosting on my cake, to be sure, but mostly, I just love the heck out of the cake.