Elizabeth (greyautumnrain) wrote,

Lottery TIckets

I started buying lottery tickets from time to time a few months after Margaret's birth. You see, we started trying for a second child the old fashioned way right away on the slim, slim hope that we wouldn't need to do IVF again and I therefore might be able to breastfeed Margaret a bit longer. I bought the lottery tickets so I could say "I have a better chance of winning the lottery" to all those folks who feel like prognosticating on my chances for success and still feel that I was being truthful. "Buying a lottery ticket" became my internal euphemism for unassisted reproductive attempts.

We managed a decently-timed (as far as we can know with no charting) “lottery ticket” this month. My period is due today, very approximately (again with the no charting, I’ve always been 4 weeks +/- a few days). On Christmas Eve I felt a brief cramping sensation. Immediately I thought it might be implantation, and the next nanosecond I was kicking myself for my stupidity. I remembered back in those early days when I thought I might actually get pregnant on my own, and how readily my mind and body delivered possible signs and symptoms only to have it all turn to naught. I know what this is, it’s wishful obstetrical hypochondria. I know better. I mean, I really should know better, so why am I doing this to myself again? Why, every hour that my period is hypothetically late do I find myself thinking that I just may be? Why did I look up the precise theoretical due date (September 22nd)? Why am I being this insane, again? Is it just habit?

The sad thing is that I don’t even have the excuse of infertile desperation. I have two perfectly cute, adorable and wonderful little kids.


OK, they’re mostly cute and wonderful.


So I am not desperate, or shouldn’t be. I have what many people would consider the ideal family, two beautiful, healthy children, one of each gender. It’s just that we had decided before we knew about the infertility that we wanted three children, and I am just not ready to call it quits on that plan yet in spite of the challenges and the fact that I have my hands full with two. The thing is, I’m not even sure that another IVF cycle or three will do the trick, so why is part of my insisting on hoping after the long-shot of a natural conception?

I have an actual real lottery ticket in my purse, sort of a slender hold on keeping a semi-sane appraisal of the odds. I keep telling myself that I have a better chance of finding that I am $242,000,000 richer come Saturday morning than finding I’m pregnant. I have to keep saying it to myself, because large and tempting as that jackpot is, I know in my heart of hearts I want that third baby more.

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