Like Yesterday, With An Addition

We met with my Kind Endo yesterday to talk about trying for baby number two.

It was so familiar, and yet different. The schlep to the Big City Hospital. The traffic jams. The calls that we'd be late. Parking. The look of the lobby. The waiting room.

And yet this time, we had Baby L in tow, pushing our crazy-big stroller and carrying crackers and pretzels and sippy cups and playthings to keep him entertained.

I've spent So.Much.Time visiting this particular doctor, in this particular part of the hospital. 

But this time, I had something other than banter to share with the office administrator and the receptionist and the phlebotomist who takes my blood expertly: my son. (Though Mr. L was there for the visit, too).

The visit itself was pretty uneventful. I am a pound under the weight I was after I got pregnant with Baby L. I offered to pee in a cup before sitting down. Kind Endo asked me a lot of usual questions about my health that I was thankful I could say no to. (Night sweats? Painful urination? Any chest pain? Coughs? Swelling? Negative.) A different twist with this visit: Baby L made himself known, pulling clean johnnies out of a drawer and practicing his walking by inching his way around the examining room, knocking patient paperwork to the floor, clutching someone's lab results in his tiny hands, and giggling. 

"Baby L doesn't know the intricacies of HIPPA yet," Mr. L explained and I wrenched the paperwork out of the boy's hands. Luckily, Kind Endo took it in stride.

As she paged through my meter, she noted that my bloods were erratic, but as I pointed out, I haven't been trying to get pregnant this week. I promised to fax over a week's worth of logging with blood sugars, carbs counted, basals noted, boluses written. Kind Endo said that once I start writing things down, my numbers usually come into line nicely. I'll find out my A1c later this week but it's usually pretty good--if it were based on just A1c numbers, I could likely start trying ASAP.

And oy, the trying.

We'll likely give it three months for the au naturel route, then ramp right back up to either IVF or a FET (Frozen Embryo Transfer) if any of Baby L's siblings are still around after being stored for two years. 

When I think of all the time spent previously--a year of going to the diabetes clinic to keep my numbers in check while Mr. L dealt with his own health issues, six months of sex without results (other than exhaustion), and another six months of the alphabet soup that encompasses infertility (HSG, ART, IUI, IVF, ad nauseum), I honestly hope that experience will cut out some of the waiting. I realize how lucky I am to even have such a fabulous son after all this work, but I hope some of life's past experiences might make this attempt an easier and quicker, but equally healthy one.

Particularly if I have to juggle pretzels and playthings for another certain someone at the same time.