Here we go.

HSG is scheduled for tomorrow at 1:45 pm; I have to be there at 1 to rock the backless hospital gown.

I'm nervous as hell. Not only was the last one quite amazingly painful, but it was when I got the news about the Asherman's. It sucked. I'm not really looking forward to being in that room again. In fact, my last few visits to this particular hospital campus have not been the funnest experiences ever. Well. It already is what it is in there, it's just me knowing, right? And I always have to know.

In a few more months it'll be a cool two years since we started TTC #2. I won't say it's been a miserable two years, far from it! Over this time Small Boy has transformed from a toddling baby to a sturdy preschooler, full of ideas and plans and words and strategies. He's got enormous grey eyes and delts sculpted from playground tumbling and long, long legs on a rather short torso (sorry, kid, that one's all me). Sometimes it hurts how much I love him.

Other good stuff has happened. We got another four years of Obama, and my state got marriage equality, which means a tremendous amount to me.

It hasn't been the easiest two years, either. It's certainly had its moments. The ultrasound moment when the doctor said "I don't see a heartbeat. I'm sorry," feels like it's preserved in amber, but I hope that someday it will quietly dissolve.  The actual aftermath was not as terrible as that moment. In retrospect, it is something I'm kind of proud of. I worked, I researched, I stuck to my guns about the misoprostol. I was given a humane amount of pain relief and it was over quickly. I'm even glad I got to hold those two rather revolting little sea monkeys (although the positive nature of that experience was perhaps influenced by the aforementioned "humane amount of pain relief"). They were grody, but they were mine. I don't know if they were people. I know to some they would've been. But it's possible that they just weren't equipped to be people, they simply didn't have what they needed, there was no world in which they would've been people because they were just missing some vital ingredients.

I mean, it's also possible that they were perfect and my stupid Asherman-y uterus killed them, but whatevs. I can't know. I could've known, maybe, if I'd gone ahead and had the D&C so I could've had an analysis of the fetal tissue. But what would it have changed? I'd have been risking a future actual child in order to know more about what happened to these. So I guess I don't always have to know.

So here we are. In a lot of ways I'm in the best place I've been for two years. Calmer, happier, healthier. Ready to roll the dice two more times, and then, if I must, to put them down and walk away.

Gulp. Tomorrow I start rattlin' the bones.