For weeks, possibly months now, Trillian and I have been saying that we need to go through Scooter's closet and dresser so that we can weed out the clothes that are too small and reorganize everything. We haven't done this for at least a couple years, not systematically at least--removal of what was obviously too small, addition of new things, but everything crammed together.
Today I decided to do a couple drawers, at least figure out what shorts and T-shirts would still fix him. Trillian and Scooter were off at the park, and once I started I just kept going. Each drawer was going to be the last, but I just kept going. I managed to be ruthless most of the time, but there were a few shirts I put on the 'storage' pile reluctantly. Afterwards, the clothes I had weeded out fit into two large Space Bags.
I also informed Trillian that I plan on putting the crib together tomorrow or this weekend. Right now, the pieces are sitting against a wall in our bedroom, and have been for several months now. There's no reason to put it together yet (no secrets here). It's just that I want it together before I'm pregnant. Sure my father-in-law could do it, but this is something I want to do.
So far, probably not too crazy-making in your mind. But here's the context. The outcome of an appointment I had yesterday means that my attempts for baby #2 will be pushed back by at least one more cycle, after I'd already delayed a cycle or two. A result of logistics and the fact that I'll now have to go to Big City for any help in conceiving.
Still not too concerned about my mindset? Here's the other thing, the thing that will be fodder for a few posts. It has only just hit me that I can no longer claim not to have a fertility problem, that I can no longer use my "supply issue" line, that in fact I need the services of a fertility clinic.
And I've been reading. About recurrent pregnancy loss caused by immunological factors. About the fact that, with each consecutive loss, the body is preparing new defenses, upping its response to each future pregnancy. About the fact that the combination of my age (35) and number of consecutive losses (2) is enough to qualify me as having recurrent pregnancy loss and to concern medical professionals (some, not all).
So I know that a third loss would mean that it would be that much harder for me to carry another pregnancy to term. Of course, I already have thought that three would be my limit, so a fourth might be moot anyway. But now I'm that much more aware of the fine line I walk and how close I am to falling on my face.
Somehow, putting away Scooter's too-small clothes as if I will be getting them out again in a few years seemed very important today. Somehow, putting the crib together instead of looking at it in pieces seems very important. I recognize this as the kernel of hope--the idea that if I press on as if there will be another baby, there will be another baby.
From this side, it doesn't seem too crazy, but there remains the nagging voice that wonders if these acts of faith will metamorphose into a mockery.