No More Question Marks

It's hard to be part of the fertility treatment roulette. The very thing that sends you to seek treatment, now puts you in control of your own fertility schedule.

There was never any question about wanting to try again after Ines. Of course at the start, the mere thought of trying again would actually cause physical pain in my chest. But then as the months passed, it wasn't so hard to imagine being pregnant again.

John's been very supportive. At the same time, quite pesky about getting me preggers again (as if he would have to do anything with it this time around --- hahaha). His biggest concern is keeping Eeny, Meeny, Minny and Moe under cryostasis too long. They've been in the freezer for over 9 months at this point.

But I've been prevaricating. Its not an easy decision for me to make -- when to get pregnant again. In fact, I haven't been sleeping well the past couple of weeks just thinking about it.

So I prayed. I've been praying every night. For God to give me the strength and the courage to take the necessary steps in trying to get pregnant again. For Him to let me know, in some way, that this is the right decision --- for all of us. And that He will be there with me, to see me through whatever happens next.

This week, I at least got the guts to go to Greg and talk about what needs to get done, and get a prescription for the stuff that helps me get my period. I suffer from extreme amenorrhea and I only get my period twice a year (max). Lucky me eh?

I was supposed to drink the stuff yesterday. But I "forgot". I was supposed to take one this morning. But I "forgot" again. I figured, with our anniversary this Sunday I might as well just take the damned thing on Monday so there's no hindrance to our "sexy weekend" plans. :-)

I guess, God must be tired of all our long, late night conversations (and my irritating indecisiveness). Because today, despite the fact that I haven't taken my meds --- there is no question about whether I should spin the fertility roulette wheel again. 

I got my period.



God: "Any more questions? "

Tanya: (smiles sheepishly)

God: "I thought so. See you in 2 to 4 weeks."

Sciutto and Ines

After being born premature and weighing only 540 grams... and spending 5 months and 6 days in the hospital -- Scuitto is finally home.

I have never met Sciutto and his father Manu. Manu is a friend of my sister Wiway at Deutsche Bank where they worked together. 

When I gave birth to Ines prematurely last July, one of the first people to touch base with us (albeit indirectly) was Manu, through my sister. Sciutto had been born just that June, a little more than 3 weeks older than Ines (who was born at 22 weeks and 6 days).

Manu sent us words of encouragement and advice. He reached out to us by letting us know the specialists they had worked with, where they sourced their medicines, and whole slew of other information he felt we should be armed with given the challenge of having a micro-preemie. He asked people he knew to pray for her.

And we had never even met him.

When Ines passed away 3 days later, he sent us heartfelt regrets and more prayers.

I asked my sister to give me constant updates on Sciutto. I read these updates, looked at his pictures and videos even though it broke my heart to do so. He was a sight to behold. So tiny, yet so brave. So much like my Ines.

I prayed for him when I could. All the hopes that I had for Ines, I passed on to him.

I also prayed for Manu and his wife Dawn. What they went through, what they are still going through, and what they will be going through for some time to come cannot be easy. But Sciutto is very lucky with the parents that he has.

Manu, through his emails, was (is) an inspiration. That we could all strive to be a parent like him. Brave, strong, filled with faith and love. 

It made me cry when I found out he finally went home this weekend.

Tears of joy for Manu, Dawn, Danielino (their oldest son).

Tears of pride for little Sciutto (not so little now at 3 kgs.)

And tears of sadness for me. And Ines.

I just realized now that if I had been able to carry her to term, I would be giving birth to her this week.

So strange. One parent's gain, another's loss.

Still I find it comforting that I can be happy for the Sciutto and his family. Their tale gives me hope that life does go on, in different ways for each of us.

Perhaps its time for me to move on.