An ICLW introduction.

Hello to my existing bloggie friends as well as to those of you popping over for International Comment Leaving Week! I’m happy you’re here. This is my first time participating in ICLW after beginning this blog in January, and I’m looking forward not only to meeting new people here but also to visiting your sites and reading your own stories. I committed to BlogHer’s NaBloPoMo this month, so if you’d like to check back in again, I can promise you a post here every day until the end of ICLW and beyond. (Well, three days beyond. Then it might be time to catch my breath.)

So, I'd love to know: who are you? Is it your first time here or have you visited before? And (since I'm in Switzerland, the land famous for both) which would you prefer, chocolate or cheese? 

Here’s a little background on me, for those who would like to catch up on the story so far. My husband Gilles and I were ecstatic to get a BFP (or more accurately, six of them) in December. I turned down a lot of glasses of champagne on the eve of the New Year we thought would be our best ever, the one during which we'd welcome our "Bébé Suisse." I took what I thought were the last pictures of my pre-baby body. Then we were told that the pregnancy was most likely not progressing. After further analysis, there was a bit of confusion about whether or not it was ectopic and whether or not it could possibly, eventually evolve. Turns out, after a week and a half of testing and probing and sitting in  waiting rooms, it wasn’t (the former) but it couldn't (the latter). The sense of betrayal I felt from the missed miscarriage was worse than the experience of the actual miscarriage. 

I added to my foreign language vocabulary and began facing what had happened. We managed to find black humor in our black situation and got a new mattress and celebrated one year of my expatriation in Switzerland. We tried to put the past behind us and to prepare for the future. Other people told us they were pregnant. It was hard for me. My younger sister had a baby. It was very hard for me. People said stupid things to me. Really stupid things. They also said some beautiful, lovely, touching things, some of which you can find in comments to my posts, all of which I am incredibly grateful for. 

I decided to change my last name to create a sense of family and I got my period again (and again). Which means I didn’t get pregnant again (and again). One of my posts became the number-one Google search result for “disrobing gynecologist.” I tried to be positive and life continued as it always does, although not many of those happy moments are catalogued here (perhaps it’s time for a change in perspective?). I recognized that what happened is far from being the worst thing in the world, although it is definitely among the worst in my own little world. 

Through it all, I leaned on my husband, who has been my rock and my true love and my best chance to survive this unscathed at the end, as I hope I am for him. Tomorrow’s post will be to honor all he is to me. 

along the trail of our first summit together, La Malinche, Mexico