I think I need to backtrack a little. A good night's sleep and an HSG sure can change a girl's mind. Particularly when it turns out she's only firing on one cylinder and was built with faulty equipment.
One blocked fallopian tube and a bicornuate uterus. Fan-fucking-tastic. For the blissfully ignorant (and oh how I wish I was among your ranks) a bicornuate uterus is heart shaped, and formed when two uteruses (uteri?) joined to become one way back when I was but a tiny peanut in my own mommy's tummy.
You'd think with two uteruses I'd be the world's most fertile woman. But apparently not.
I can't even bear to consider what affect my flawed interior design may have had on Thomas - or what part it might have played in his death. I just can't bear it. Not today.
I don't really have enough information to know how all this affects our future breeding prospects either. I was unable to ask any intelligent questions as I lay there on the table with dye oozing out of my nether regions and the shock of it all hanging around me like a thick fog. My doctor seemed optimistic for me - one tube and Clomid are enough, according to the good doctor - but he also admitted that he'd need to see my ultrasounds (which he hasn't, as yet) in order to get a good handle on things.
I really think he just wanted to get to his lunch. How he could even think of eating after what he'd just done and seen is a whole other puzzle. But that's his problem, not mine. I have enough of my own to think about, thank you very much.
So there you have it. I'm good and broken.
And I'm not entirely sure how I even feel about having babies anymore. Is it fair to keep trying if there's a possibility that more babies could die because of me? I don't know. I don't know all the stats and odds and risks yet (except what I've gleaned by poking around online) so it's premature of me to make any decisions (not to mention the fact that I'm not the only one who gets to make this one).
But I'm just saying, I don't know how much more of this I can stand.
The more answers we find, the more I crumble inside under the weight of the guilt I haven't been able to shake since Thomas died.
Who knew there was more where that came from?