1, 2, 3.

So, here we go again.

Another positive pregnancy test, another bout of excitement, another heartbreaking disappointment.

The third miscarriage means there's something wrong.

There's something wrong.

My hubby and I got quite excited with the news of my third pregnancy.  I think maybe because it meant one of two things:

1. We would get our baby
2. We would get help

We called this one 'Sticky'.  It wasn't.  For us, sadly, it's option two.

On my last visit to my wonderful doctor, she said that if this happened again, she would send us to a specialist.  I love my doctor - she is so thorough and holistic, but unfortunately that means everyone else loves her too.  I have to wait almost three weeks since this miscarriage to see her.  It's a painful wait after 8 months of trying already.  But, it will come.  I am really looking forward to it.  I very much hope that any tests we have done actually give us some answers.  Of course, there's always the chance they won't, but I won't think about that just yet. 

I have also started investigating natural therapy options.  I searched forums on the internet for recommendations and made a shortlist of three.  One of those three was brought up in conversation when I was out having a lovely brunch with three of my lovely friends (and one gorgeous 2 week old baby).  So I've found my natural therapist.  I'm so glad that both my friends and my husband are so supportive of anything I want to do.  It makes a world of difference. 

So to my friends and husband - thank you.

Pram Stalker

During my first pregnancy, at about 6 weeks along, a friend offered to sell me her pram.  It was really cheap so I bought it.  Although I knew it was way early, and I had no idea about prams, the offer was too good to refuse.  I then became slightly obsessed with prams.

The pram I have has a toddler seat, is quite big, sturdy and great for uneven ground and jogging, but it's really heavy, and I'm not sure it'd fit down cashier aisles.  It also takes up almost the entire space in my boot and I may just put my back out getting it in there.

That's when I started noticing prams.

I didn't realise I was doing it at first.  I'd be at the local shopping centre (where, if you are pregnant or trying to conceive, you'd swear 80% of the population was pregnant or had babies!), and I'd see a pram and casually take note of its features.  I liked the smaller ones, lighter frame, still with decent storage.  Ooh, and can you put two kids in it?  Do you kick your feet on it when you're pushing?  Can you reverse the handle?  Does it look like it'll fold up quickly?  Wow, that colour's nice... what pram is that?

One day, I found myself leering at a particularly nice looking pram, ticked lots of boxes - the doting mother and father passed me head on.  I suddenly screeched to a halt, in the middle of a busy shopping centre, spun around, bag flying and raced after said pram - just to see what brand it was...  people were ducking and weaving to avoid the crazy woman racing after two strangers and their pram.

That's when I realised I had a problem.

I am a pram stalker.