So on Friday my husband and I are off to see the Wizard... the wonderful Wizard of Reproductive Endocrinology. Okay, so that's not as catchy as the original song, but work with me here.
Now, I've never had the good fortune of requiring an RE before, so this is new territory for me. But it dawned on me this morning that what I'm really after is answers. And apparently, all my hopes are to be pinned on this one woman. My OB and Genetic Counselor, though concerned, have thrown their collective hands up and admitted that they don't have a clue. Then they turn and point their fingers at the RE, backing away with reverence, while muttering something about her having the power to conjure answers. Very munchkin-esque.
So I'm trying to comfort myself with the things we know aren't wrong with me: We conceive easily. I hold onto pregnancies like Leonardo DiCaprio holding onto that piece of floating wood in Titanic. My cervix is "overly competent" and likely the culprit of my need for repeat D&Cs. My children (at least two of them) have perfect chromosomes, so there's likely no problem with genetic material in me or my husband. And they've tested for some of the more common clotting disorders, which have come back fine.
Of course, this leaves me with the bizarre and unexplainable fact that my kids are still dying or suffering un-nameable, causeless diseases.
So in the few days that remain as we make our way down the yellow brick road, I'll be praying that some lovely wisdom lies behind the Wizard's mask.