Radio silence - but a good reason

So, here I am.

11 weeks ago we found out i was PG again. Why, R, do you continue to do this? Because I did not feel done. I felt like I had not conquered this. I beat PCOS and I wanted to beat MotherFucker too.

I did.

For the first time, we saw a healthy heartbeat at 8 weeks. 175 to be exact! Everyone thought it was a girl!

For the first time, I got morning sickness. Stopped eating meat. Ate Life cereal for dinner for 5 weeks.

For the first time, my pants stopped fitting and I actually considered getting maternity wear.

I felt pregnant. I felt sick. I felt like shit.

I also felt major psychic torture because I couldn't believe that this would actually work out and I would actually get to experience giving birth.

Turns out I was right.

Today I went in, off-appointment, because I was in a horrible state thinking that something was wrong. I was right.

For the first time, I got to see what a genetically abnormal fetus looks like on an ultrasound. It was sad, horrifying and scary. There is no way this baby could've made it. They think that what was wrong with her (it was a her, they think, based on the diagnosis of the disease) was Turners' Syndrome, which (as Dr Google told me) is a genetic disorder where the fetus doesn't get any XX chromosomes. It only happens to girls. It is 97% fatal.

I cried on the table, I cried in the doctor's office, I cried in the little room they put me in to wait for the hospital to call to schedule my D/C.

And then I stopped crying, because really, I have a daughter. A beautiful perfect daughter. And we have the ways and means to have more children. And will. And while this is sad it didn't work out it is not fair to wish that she had lived with that issue.

So in a lovely touch of irony, I will end my last pregnancy on Charlotte's Gotcha Day. The day she officially became ours. And no one can take that away.