Bad Day

I'm not having a good day today. I'm very depressed and feeling down. I tried going to to the mall to cheer me up but that didn't work; I just saw babies and strollers everywhere. So no positive post from me today.

However.....two things I'm thankful for today:

-Caesar Salad...I started craving it when I got pregnant and it hasn't gone away. I'm obsessed, and normally I'd much rather have a garden salad or spinach salad!

-My husband. I know I've already said it, but I really wouldn't survive this without him.

Thank you

Just a quick post to thank everyone who has been so supportive throughout this blog adventure. I can't count the number of people who have mentioned it to me, either by text, Facebook or face-to-face. Your support means the world to me. 


I love you all. 


An extra special thank you to my immediate family and best friends, I'd be lost without you. 

Dreams and KD

Two things I'm thankful for: 


-Great dreams


-KD


I didn't make it onto my blog yesterday because I literally slept all day (I don't know if it's the surgery, the depression, the lack of iron or all three but I'm exhausted all the time).  Yesterday I was thankful for great dreams. I had a dream where my whole family was in Cuba enjoying themselves. It was amazing. I woke up and tried to go back to sleep to the same dream, but it didn't happen. Last night I had a dream my best friend and I stayed in New York and had an AWESOME apartment. It was a very exciting and happy dream (it was only temporary though, don't worry hubby). 


Today, I'm making KD. It's one of my favourite things to eat, but I don't eat it often because it's not the healthiest option (let's be honest here). Today however-I'm making it, and I'm going to ENJOY it. 

Stepping Up

People never seem to know how to respond to a miscarriage. I've had people say (unintentional) hurtful things, ignore the whole situation, and be more supportive than I could have possibly imagined. 

I'm disappointed in some friends and extended family. They've pretended I never had a miscarriage; was never pregnant. Maybe they don't know what to say. A simple "I'm sorry, I'm here for you" is more than enough. I would never ignore a death in your family, why are you ignoring mine? It hurts so much. 

On the other hand, I've had other people step up in ways I've never imagined. People I haven't spoken to in years have contacted me. Friends that I only see sometimes have sent flowers and cards. Most of all, people have told me my blog is inspiring to them. That means the most to me. To all those people-thank you. I will never be able to re-pay you but know that you've made a difference in this very difficult time. 

It's times like these you can tell who you can really trust and rely on. 

Laughter

I laughed out loud tonight at something one of my friends said to me online. A genuine, full on laugh. It reminded me that even though the world seems dark and gloomy right now, it WILL get better. Someone always has it worse off then me-I need to keep that in mind. 


Maybe the world isn't so bad after all. 


I'm going to try and write down (or at least think of) at least one positive thing a day. 


Today: Laughter. 

Why is everyone pregnant?

Everyone is pregnant or has a baby/child. It seems so anyways. 


When I go to the mall, all I can see are big round bellies or strollers. Wherever I go I see babies or kids. At first it didn't bother me, but I can't stop thinking how far along I'd be and how I'd be getting a nice round belly too. And feeling those first kicks and movements. 


When will I ever feel "normal" again? I had a hard time seeing preggos and babies after the first miscarriage, but this time is much worse. I don't know why. 


I'm just going to hide in my bedroom and living room. I know hubby won't come in pregnant. 

This weekend

At lot has happened since I've posted last. Saturday morning I woke up with a LOT of bleeding and very large clots. We called Telehealth and they advised us to go to the hospital immediately, so we did. We arrived around ten am. We saw the doctor on call, I had blood work done and an IV put in, and finally the OB on call came to see me. She sent me for an ultrasound and found a very small piece of retained tissue. She gave me a medication called Misoprostol, which causes the uterus to contract and the tissue to be expelled. By the time we got out of the hospital it was after 4pm, and we had plans that night for hubby's birthday. So, I decided to start the Miso on Sunday, and try and enjoy one night out first. I took the first dose at 1am Sunday (right before bed) and the second dose at 1pm. There was a lot of cramping, but that's about it. It didn't work for me. 


So I went and saw my OBGYN/Surgeon yesterday afternoon. He had a copy of the ultrasound and the blood work. The good news: My hormones are still wacky, but not as wacky as they could be. My betas were down to 13, which is good. The bad news: The doctor didn't think the Miso would work again. So I had the choice of "waiting it out" (keeping in mind how small this tissue was and that it may have been already expelled) or going in for another D&C. I chose to wait it out. I think my body has been through enough in the past while. Plus the Dr. couldn't guarantee he would get this small piece of tissue (since going in for a D&C is like going in half blind) plus I already have an infection in my uterus, and another D&C would just make it worse. So that's the story. I feel like I'm on the mend, and that I'm through the worst of it (hopefully). 


I thought once I stopped bleeding and clotting I would immediately feel better, but now I just feel empty. My hope from before is gone. I knew it wouldn't stay. Right now I'm just trying to take care of myself and my body and let my friends and family help out where they can. 

Hope

Today I have hope. I don't know where it came from, but I am praying it stays.  


We met with the Fertility Clinic yesterday and hubby and I are going for chromosomal testing tomorrow, just to make sure everything is OK. We meet with the RE (FC doctor) again in 3 weeks and he should have most of the results by then. If everything checks out OK we will start trying again next cycle. I'm already on the Metformin and will go back onto the Femara (mircale drug!) and Estrace. I can only hope we'll be as lucky as we were last time. 


I'm in more physical pain today; it's hard for me to sit and I have a lot of cramping. The bleeding and clots are hard to see and even harder to deal with, knowing why they are there. It's been a week since my D&C now-a week ago exactly I was just getting out of the hospital and getting McDonald's (hey, Mc D's sounds GREAT when you haven't eaten in more than 12 hours!). 


Even though I feel worse physically, I feel like we have a plan now and that makes me feel positive. 


Please continue to think of us and pray for us....I think all the good energy in the universe will help us. :) 

Frustrated

Today I'm angry. It's been exactly one week since we found out Ike didn't have a heartbeat. I thought I would be sad and upset, but I'm mad. I'm mad at the universe today. I even yelled at some poor lady at A&W because she didn't get my apple juice fast enough. Not a good day.


I went to see my OB/surgeon today and he disgnosed me with an infected uterus, which explains all the pain and (TMI) clots and bleeding. He put me onto some more painkillers and antibiotics and said it should be better by the end of the week, if not, to call him. Nothing is ever easy it seems.


We meet with the Fertility Clinic tonight to discuss our options. I hope we are able to continue on with our quest to have a baby relatively soon. I'll keep you all updated.

Innocence

"Having infertility takes the innocence out of trying for a baby; having a miscarriage takes the innocence out of being pregnant."


How true this quote is. "Trying" is no longer easy. It's not just a "roll in the sack". It involves medications, blood work, ultrasounds, and timed sex. Not very romantic. 


Having previous miscarriages takes away all the innocence of carrying a baby and being blissfully unaware of everything that can go wrong. 


I feel robbed. 


Yet I would give anything to have those feelings of uncertainty and being scared again....just for another pregnancy. 

Footprints

"These are my footprints,

so perfect and so small.

These tiny footprints

never touched the ground at all.

Not one tiny footprint,

for now I have wings.

These tiny footprints were meant

for other things.

You will hear my tiny footprints,

in the patter of the rain.

Gentle drops like angel's tears,

of joy and not from pain.

You will see my tiny footprints,

in each butterflies' lazy dance.

I'll let you know I'm with you,

if you just give me the chance.

You will see my tiny footprints,

in the rustle of the leaves.

I will whisper names into the wind,

and call each one that grieves.

Most of all, these tiny footprints,

are found on Mommy and Daddy's hearts.

'Cause even though I'm gone now,

We'll never truly part."

Don't tell me

Don't tell me that you understand,

Don't tell me that you know.

Don't tell me that I will survive

Or how I will surely grow.

Don't tell me this is just a test,

That I am truly blessed.

That I am chosen for this task

Apart from all the rest.

Don't come at me with answers

That can only come from me.

DOn't tell me that my grief will pass

That I will soon be free.

Don't stand in pious judgement

Of the bounds I must untie

Don't tell me how to suffer,

And don't tell me how to cry!

My life is full of selfishness

My pain is all I see

But I need you now;

I need your love unconditionally.

Accept me in my ups and downs

I need someone to share.

Just hold my hand and let me cry

And say, "My friend I care"

What to say to someone who has experienced a miscarriage

What to say to someone who's had a miscarriage.

When women experience the loss of a child, one of the first things they discover they have in common is a list of things they wish no one had ever said to them. The lists tend to be remarkably similar.

The comments are rarely malicious - just misguided attempts to soothe.

This list was compiled as a way of helping other people understand pregnancy loss. While generated by mothers for mothers, it may also apply similarly to the fathers who have endured this loss.

When trying to help a woman who has lost a baby, the best rule of thumb is a matter of manners: don't offer your personal opinion of her life, her choices, her prospects for children. No woman is looking to poll her acquaintances for their opinions on why it happened or how she should cope.

Don't say, "It's God's Will." Even if we are members of the same congregation, unless you are a cleric and I am seeking your spiritual counseling, please don't presume to tell me what God wants for me. Besides, many terrible things are God's Will, that doesn't make them less terrible.

Don't say, "It was for the best - there was probably something wrong with your baby." The fact that something was wrong with the baby is what is making me so sad. My poor baby never had a chance. Please don't try to comfort me by pointing that out.

Don't say, "You can always have another one." This baby was never disposable. If had been given the choice between loosing this child or stabbing my eye out with a fork, I would have said, "Where's the fork?" I would have died for this baby, just as you would die for your children.

Don't say, "Be grateful for the children you have." If your mother died in a terrible wreck and you grieved, would that make you less grateful to have your father?

Don't say, "Thank God you lost the baby before you really loved it." I loved my son or daughter. Whether I lost the baby after two weeks of pregnancy or just after birth, I loved him or her.

Don't say, "Isn't it time you got over this and moved on?" It's not something I enjoy, being grief-stricken. I wish it had never happened. But it did and it's a part of me forever. The grief will ease on its own timeline, not mine - or yours.

Don't say, "Now you have an angel watching over you." I didn't want her to be my angel. I wanted her to bury me in my old age.

Don't say, "I understand how you feel." Unless you've lost a child, you really don't understand how I feel. And even if you have lost a child, everyone experiences grief differently.

Don't tell me horror stories of your neighbor or cousin or mother who had it worse. The last thing I need to hear right now is that it is possible to have this happen six times, or that I could carry until two days before my due-date and labor 20 hours for a dead baby. These stories frighten and horrify me and leave me up at night weeping in despair. Even if they have a happy ending, do not share these stories with me.

Don't pretend it didn't happen and don't change the subject when I bring it up. If I say, "Before the baby died..." or "when I was pregnant..." don't get scared. If I'm talking about it, it means I want to. Let me. Pretending it didn't happen will only make me feel utterly alone.

Don't say, "It's not your fault." It may not have been my fault, but it was my responsibility and I failed. The fact that I never stood a chance of succeeding only makes me feel worse. This tiny little being depended upon me to bring him safely into the world and I couldn't do it. I was supposed to care for him for a lifetime, but I couldn't even give him a childhood. I am so angry at my body you just can't imagine.

Don't say, "Well, you weren't too sure about this baby, anyway." I already feel so guilty about ever having complained about morning sickness, or a child I wasn't prepared for, or another mouth to feed that we couldn't afford. I already fear that this baby died because I didn't take the vitamins, or drank too much coffee, or had alcohol in the first few weeks when I didn't know I was pregnant. I hate myself for any minute that I had reservations about this baby. Being unsure of my pregnancy isn't the same as wanting my child to die - I never would have chosen for this to happen.

Do say, "I am so sorry." That's enough. You don't need to be eloquent. Say it and mean it and it will matter.

Do say, "You're going to be wonderful parents some day," or "You're wonderful parents and that baby was lucky to have you." We both need to hear that.

Do say, "I have lighted a candle for your baby," or "I have said a prayer for your baby." Do send flowers or a kind note - every one I receive makes me feel as though my baby was loved. Don't resent it if I don't respond. Don't call more than once and don't be angry if the machine is on and I don't return your call. If we're close friends and I am not responding to your attempts to help me, please don't resent that, either. Help me by not needing anything from me for a while.

If you're my boss or my co-worker:

Do recognize that I have suffered a death in my family - not a medical condition.

Do recognize that in addition to the physical aftereffects I may experience, I'm going to be grieving for quite some time. Please treat me as you would any person who has endured the tragic death of a loved one - I need time and space.

If your niece is pregnant, or your daughter just had a baby, please don't share that with me right now. It's not that I can't be happy for anyone else, it's that every smiling, cooing baby, every glowing new mother makes me ache so deep in my heart I can barely stand it. I may look okay to you, but there's a good chance that I'm still crying every day. It may be weeks before I can go a whole hour without thinking about it. You'll know when I'm ready - I'll be the one to say, "Did your daughter have her baby?" or, "How is that precious little boy of yours? I haven't seen him around the office in a while."

Above all, please remember that this is the worst thing that ever happened to me. The word "miscarriage" is small and easy. But my baby's death is monolithic and awful. It's going to take me a while to figure out how to live with it. Bare with me. 


***Everything in BOLD has been said to me before. A simple "I'm sorry, I'm here for you" is all that needs to be said.***

Our history

Hubby and I decided we wanted to try for a child more than a year ago. We got married in 2008, and spent some amazing times together just to two of us. We decided it was time for 3. So I threw out the birth control, and we figured that was it. I had no idea how naive we both were.


We thought it might take a couple months, but we didn't think we'd have any problems. We were both young and ready. Based on family history, I should be extremely fertile. Easy, right?

We tried everything. "Going with the flow", going crazy, using OPK's and anything else we could think of. Eventually we got a referral to a Fertility Clinic in town. We were nervous, but hopeful we could get some answers.


Right before my first official FC cycle I got my first BFP (that's "Big Fat Positive" in blog speak). We were beyond overjoyed. I was monitored by the clinic, and they noticed my beta levels were not rising as much as they should have been. We lost Timbit at 5 weeks 2 days. Luckily I did not need a D&C, but going through a "natural miscarriage" was awful. It was painful, emotionally difficult and frustrating.


We wanted to start trying again right away. I went through one cycle of "observation" which meant blood work and an ultrasound every other day. Needless to say it took up a lot of time, but was necessary, and the clinic staff-from the receptionist to the techs to the doctors-were awesome. After the end of the cycle I was diagnosed with PCOS and put onto Metformin. The next cycle I monitored carefully again and from CD (cycle day) 4-9 I was put onto Femara (similar to Clomid). It was a miracle. I grew a huge, healthy egg which I then ovulated on CD13 (amazing for me, normally I ovulated closer to CD20). I also took Estrace with helped thicken up my lining. We "did our thing" and crossed our fingers.


On August 6th I got those two beautiful pink lines and cried with happiness. I was quite sick throughout my pregnancy (I was put into Diclectin) but I didn't complain-we wanted this baby so badly. I had an ultrasound at 6 weeks and saw our beautiful baby "Ike" (just a blob at that point) moving around and we heard and saw the heartbeat-142 bpm. Hubby was happier than I've ever seen him before.


I then had another ultrasound at just over 9 weeks, and we saw our baby again (looking more like a gummy bear now). He/she was standing on his/her head and waving. It was the cutest thing I've ever seen. The heartbeat was 156 bpm and we were told everything looked great. I continued to feel pregnant and my stomach grew hard and round. We told everyone in our lives around 12 weeks, feeling safe and secure.


At 13 weeks we went in for our IPS ultrasound. I knew something was wrong right away. The tech refused to let hubby come in, give me a picture, or even see the screen. She told me to go home and wait for the doctor to call. I knew it was bad. When the doctor called she confirmed my worst fears-the baby no longer had a heartbeat. We were beyond devastated. 

 We went to see the family doctor at 8:30am the next day. She informed us that I had suffered an internal blood clot  that had caused the placenta to come away from the uterine wall which meant the baby didn't get any nutrients. By 4pm that day I was in surgery to have a D&C. I don't remember any of it, but I sure remember the pain afterwards. It was awful. That was Thursday; today is Tuesday. I feel worse than better. I'm starting to think I will never heal. Even though the doctors said we are able to start trying again as soon as we feel ready, I don't know when I'll be ready. I'm just a mess. I just want a baby in our arms.

Why me? Why us? Why our precious Ike? 

Now it's back to the beginning. Again.