I’ve been dreaming of being pregnant again for months now. I guess I missed all those kicks on my belly or maybe because I wanted to correct some mistakes I thought I did being first timer mom. Or perhaps because I wanted Mira to have a brother or sister she can share secrets with. Unfortunately, getting pregnant again did not come that easy.
We have ficky plan mapped up in an excel file where we tracked my cycle for months. Mann is quite supportive as well because whenever I insist on being fertile (and I insist on it all the time), he would dutifully lie down on the bed so I can have my way with him. I used my husband for some months with zero results but it wasn’t until my parents came here and told me what I was doing wrong that I finally see the bulb lit up. Not the way how I should be raping my husband of course but that I will not get pregnant for as long as I am breastfeeding.
So short before Mira celebrated her 2nd birthday, she was kicked out from my toytoy and the pregnant test immediately came out positive. Schwanger for 3 weeks plus. Hurray!
Since I am not a first timer mom and I do hate doctors poking around my vajayjay, I thought to see a frauenarzt twice only for the whole pregnancy. Like during the first and second trimester only. It turned out that once is enough for this pregnancy because although I am pregnant or my body thinks that it is but the sac is EMPTY. What the fuck is that???
Things happened quiet fast and in two days, I was scheduled for D&C to remove the windmole. Family members were quite supportive in their own way. Sister was telling me about the possibility of it being ectopic and of bleeding out in an hour. I find it morbid so I have to put that thought aside. And then there is my mother.
My mother insisted that I was impregnated by an engkanto, those that live in the trees, and that for her peace of mind and also there is nothing wrong anyway if I will just follow her instructions, that I should string some onions in a piece of yarn and belt it around my waste to avoid more visitations from the engkanto and hence, no empty sac ever again. Both women meant well of course but I believe that I have to craft my own experience for the sake of my own sanity and just not take them that seriously.
So D&C was done and other than these two stupid nurses poking needles on my arm three times trying to find my vein, I felt no pain. Weak and a bit dizzy in the first few hours but otherwise fine and back to my usual duty that very afternoon.
Sometimes, shit do happen by no fault of mine. It’s not because I did not do enough sport or was just asking for attention as what some idiot might say but its just simply a matter of statistics. And unfortunately, I will be 35 in 2 months and my number will go up from 15% to 25% that a type of miscarriage will occur. But as they say, life goes on so I will just be waiting for two or three cycle to return and then back to my ficky.xls. 🙂
P.S. In a small town in Saxonia, D&C cost us 480 euro only.