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Monday, August 30, 2004
On due dates and depression
I must be the queen of bad timing. I checked the calendar today and should get my period on the due date of my first baby. In NINE days. September 8. I'm terrified of that date, looming ever closer. It isn't so much that I'm devastated, though I am. I'm just very afraid of how I'll actually react when that day comes.
And I thought, "But if i have a positive pregnancy test then, maybe it will be easier to deal with." Based on my previous two pregnancies, I don't get positive tests before my period is late. And the thought of getting a negative between now and then, or, worse, on that day? Is something I can't handle. Of course, with today being cd15 and my OPKs still negative, my cycle could be longer than expected.
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Saturday, August 28, 2004
Scenes from a car window
While in the car with my husband today, we happened to pull beside a car driving rather erratically. And I, in my usual fashion, just had to look inside. I can honestly say that what I saw was among the more fascinating things I've seen someone do while driving.
Ladies and gentleman, she was rolling a joint. Which of course requires using both hands, and apparently also full concentration. Now as if it isn't bad enough (seriously, roll 'em at home kids!), we were within FEET of the New York State Troopers barracks!
Eventually, she turned her head, saw me and angrily sped off. She obviously did not like my laughing and finger pointing.
But then, I realized that it was all ok. She could drive badly and roll her doobie, for she had a Christian fish and an "I Love Jesus" bumpersticker. Clearly, the Lord will offer enough protection that she need not worry about paying attention to what she is doing.
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UPDATE: Is it just me, or does the Olympic Greco-Roman wrestling match between the US and Korea totally look like gay foreplay?
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Wednesday, August 25, 2004
They just don't get it
I've read a lot of posts by other bloggers recently about how people just don't get it and I thought myself extremely lucky. While I'm sure the people that I know don't necessarily understand exactly what I'm going through, they know that I'm in pain. One friend and I have stopped doing things together, partly because she doesn't know what to say, partly because, to borrow from Tertia, I've been in my cave. [As a side note, that is the best description of how I've been that I have ever heard] I knew she and I would likely grow apart a bit from the minute I got my first BFP. This is the same woman who only two weeks prior had taken another friend to get an abortion. She's single, she's a 30something teacher, and lives with her parents. Her money is completely disposable and she's got the designer gear to prove it (imagine--$50,000 a year that you only have to shop with...no bills...wow!). Now before I got pregnant, my husband and I were living that life. I shopped (maybe too much, but it was fun!), I did whatever I wanted, just not quite to the extreme of my friend. And I knew when I got my first positive that my life was now different. It wasn't about me anymore. I knew that she and I were in such different places in our lives that we wouldn't spend as much time together. So I'm not especially upset that she doesn't call as often as she used to.
And then I got an email from a different friend that by all rights should upset me. Because I'm terrible at the whole made-up names and initials thing, I won't attempt to hide this. My friend Jen and I met in college in 1996 when she was a freshman and I was a sophomore living down the hall. We were inseperable that year, and then she transferred. For various reasons (she started dating seriously a guy that I had well, a couple of drunken sexual encounters with one weekend [non-sex, if you use Clinton's definitions...and I totally do...in this case, because quite frankly the guy was not even worth that]) we lost touch. Until I heard she was engaged to someone else and could not let that pass without acknowledgement. And then about six months before her wedding, I got engaged. So I saw her for the first time in three years at her wedding. It was like no time had passed. She was a bridesmaid in my wedding, though I thought her husband was an ass. She flew from Chicago to New York once to visit me, and they had a horrific fight over the phone. Then I didn't hear from her for a long time. When I did, she said that she had left him, was in the process of a divorce and that it would be finalized within that month. I listened and tried to be there for her even though I have no clue what that must be like. I'm a child of divorced parents, so I know that aspect of divorce, and while there were no children involved, I know it still had to be hard. I saw my mom go through this. Do I understand? Do I fully get it? No. Because I have an incredible husband -- For God's sake, this man will go SHOE SHOPPING with me and will still, after several hours, find really cute shoes and insist that I buy them even though I have nothing to go with them and will have to build an entire outfit around them.
I told Jen about my first miscarriage. I don't remember any specific responses, but I know that she responded in as appropriate a manner as anyone could be expected to. I didn't tell anyone about my second pregnancy. I was waiting for a heartbeat to convince myself that it was really happening. When that heart didn't beat, it took me quite a while to let anyone know. A lot of people never found out. But I did email Jen. And a few weeks later she sent me this:
I'm really not ignoring you... Things here are nuts-
work has been wretched for the last few months and it keeps getting worse. I
haven't been consistantly at my desk for over a month and a half with all kinds
of running around. Anyway, since I haven't had the time to really respond, I
didn't want to give a half assed hi because you deserve a real response, but as
more time goes by, I feel worse for not saying hi... and bad that I can't sit
down and write a real response.... You know the cycle.
So, abbreviated version of me-
In a show,
auditioning for a few more next month, work sucks, Scott is great, family is
fine, Scully's adorable, looking for a new job.
I really hope that things are
getting better for you. I can't even begin to imagine what all is going on and
I'm sure it's awful. If it helps at all, think of all the stupid stuff we used
to do at TU. We were pretty big dorks... your study razor and duct tape
=)
Anyway, I have to run. I haven't fallen off the face of the earth, though
that may be a nice vacation for awhile.
This was about three weeks after I had written to her, explaining how sad I was, how the pain got so bad one day that I thought about just walking away from my marriage so I didn't have to see the face of the man I love and couldn't give a child to every day.
Then, Monday, I got this email from her:
I promised a "real" e-mail and life has been so nutty, here
I am a month later sitting down to finally write and catch up. I hope this finds
you doing well. You certainly have been through a lot. I know what it's like to
be going through hell and feeling like no one out there understands what is
going on. Granted, mine wasn't with trying to get pregnant, mine was my
divorce... but still,the feeling of being alone wading through a lot of shit is
the same, no matter what the situation.
Holy. Shit. If this weren't still in my inbox, I would be sure that this woman who has been one of my best friends for years did not just compare the death of my two precious babies to her divorce from a man that, by her own admission, was abusive and whom she does not have any love for. Yes, it is exactly the same type of feeling alone--filing for divorce and feeling alone, as she put it in one of our many conversations then, because "I hate to admit when I fail and everyone now knows I made a huge mistake" feels exactly like the excruciating, gut-wrenching feeling of aloneness one has when their baby dies in utero.
I can honestly say that this is perhaps the stupidest thing anyone has ever said to me. I suppose we do both feel a sense of failure. But I'm going to be selfish on this one and say that my sense of failure is much greater. The failure of her marriage is something caused by the two of them. My failure was a failure of the most basic kind. My body failed me, and I, in turn, failed to protect my children from my body. Now in my head I know that I couldn't have done anything that would have changed the outcome of my pregnancies, but the heart doesn't always feel things in the way the understanding of the brain indicates it should. And so, on a regular basis, I find myself questioning, "If I can't protect them before they reach the dangers of the world, how can I do it then?"
And I wish I could be angry at Jen. But I'm not. I actually, to some extent pity her. Because she doesn't get it. The same thing that angers me in most cases, incites deep pity in me when it comes to Jen. She doesn't understand the intense love of a mother for her child, beginning well before she can hold her baby in her arms and has to be content with holding her baby in her heart. While I don't wish my particular pain on her, I do wish that she could feel this kind of love. Then, I feel certain, she would get it.
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Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Random thoughts
Back from vacation. Perhaps one of the best weeks of my recent life. We went to visit my family and we took our babies. Our two, sweet, precious, cuddly, extremely active and overly vociferous siamese cats. Yes, we drove for twelve hours, in a Pontiac Vibe, with TWO siamese cats. Interestingly, this did not bother me in the least.
We arrived at my parents' house to learn it was the first week of school there, so my mom was going to be babysitting my brother's two year old son. The most adorable boy on the planet (who told his very first joke in my car: "What mells? Somethin' mells! Its Unca Got! Unca Got mells like poop! My tell a joke!!!!") It was an odd feeling, spending so much time with a toddler after all that I've been through this year. It sounds stupid to say it, but it was, well, bittersweet. It hurt so bad knowing that my brother (who had spent years thinking, for I have no idea what reason, that he could not father a child) has such a beautiful son, and that I may not ever get to that point.
I'm in sort of an odd place. We made a plan with Dr. P for where we are going. My husband and I are ready to begin trying, and should ovulate around the end of the week/middle of next week. I find myself both excited at the prospect, while at the same time shaking in terror. I don't know what to expect. I know I can't get excited even if I do get a positive test. I've lost that ability to be happy at the thought of pregnancy. For me, and for many who have suffered as I have, happiness is hidden beneath the fear.
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Sunday, August 15, 2004
Vacation, all I ever wanted!
Well, I'm out of town for a week. Off to visit my family. Am extremely excited about seeing them.
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Saturday, August 14, 2004
Back in the saddle again
So yesterday was a crazy day! My husband's grandma (81) had her hip replaced yesterday. She fell and broke it just before July 4, they put in a pin, and instead of continuing to heal, the pin started to come out. So, new hip. Which also explains why I didn't post about the results from my doctors' appointments after Blogger ate the first one.
The first appointment was with genetics. Because my father-in-law's side of the family are Jewish, my husband had to be tested for all the Jewish panel disorders. Thankfully, he had a completely normal male karyotype and is not a carrier of any of those diseases. Then we moved on to me. I have a normal female karyotype (this may be the only time in my life someone calls me normal, so I'm flaunting this as much as possible!). I do not have any of the clotting disorders she tested for, however I am a carrier for one. I want to say it was MTHFR, but I just can't remember. From past experience with this geneticist's office, they will likely send me a copy of the results in the mail. They have already photocopied all of their results and given them to my OB.
The second appointment, about 30 minutes later, was a consultation with Dr. P. (As an aside, the All-Knowing Receptionist Goddess does, in fact, exist and goes by the name of Jodi.) All of Dr. P's tests came back clear (except for carrying one clotting disorder -- turns out some of the tests were ordered by both doctors). He then turned the conversation to determining where we go from here.
He first offered me a sonohystergram and endometrial biopsy, but said that he felt that if I had significant uterine problems, they would have noticed something in the multiple transvaginal ultrasounds (I swear to you, for MONTHS, Walter the ultrasound tech and his lovewand were getting more play from me than my husband) and the two D&Cs performed by Dr. S (he's head of obstetrics at the hospital for obstetrics in the area) would have shown something. So he really feels that it is unlikely that I would have anything serious.
Since the choice was up to me and since I know from reading many blogs and talking to a friend of mine who is also TTC (and failing miserably due to male-factor IF), that these two tests are quite painful. My husband wouldn't say whether he wanted me to have them done or not and so, I made what could prove to be a bad decision. Right now, I don't want them. I'm just not ready for more pain in that area and further delays in trying again.
Dr. P. told me he felt it was a wise decision. So, he put me on Prometrium, 100 mg twice a day, from ovulation until I bleed. He then said something that caused quite a problem for me.
He said, "I think you need to just hop right back on the horse and ride it again."
After it came out of his mouth, he realized how bad it sounded and immediately busied himself shuffling papers in my file. My husband became entranced with the pattern of the Persian rug on the floor. And I, ever the grown-up, covered my mouth and giggled like a 12-year-old.
Once the decision had been made that we were going to try again and I had been written a prescription, we made our plan. If I become pregnant and miscarry a third time, I am going to have the biopsy and the sonohystergram. I will also immediately be referred to an RE. And this time, genetic testing of the fetal tissue will be done.
In the car on the way home, my husband and I decided where we think we will draw the line, should we come to it. We have decided that if I do need to see an RE, we will cycle with him through at least one pregnancy. If it is unsuccessful, then we are out of the game. We've already discussed adoption, have paperwork from two agencies, know what country we think we'd like to adopt from...
In short, for someone like me who always wants to know what is coming next, who has to at least have some sense of control over things, well, this is as good as it gets.
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Friday, August 13, 2004
@#(&%)@*!!!!
SHOOT!
I just wrote a really long post with the results of my tests. And then I clicked spell-check...and then? BLOGGER ATE IT!!!!
So, I'll post later today, I promise.
In the meantime, I have to go pick up a prescription (in the nasty rain!) and then go to work for a little bit before driving to the hospital an hour away where my husband is with his family. His 81 year-old grandmother is having her hip replaced today.
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Tuesday, August 10, 2004
Urban Fertility Legends
Yesterday I had a phone conversation with a receptionist at my OB's office whom I have never spoken to. I will call her "Stupid Receptionist Bitch," or "SRB." Here is a transcript of my call with her (and it's aftermath).
I called her from work. My summer job has me sitting in a large room filled with desks (think cubicles butted up against each other only without those annoying walls that create "privacy"), so it was a call I wanted to stay quiet, for obvious reasons (seriously, does EVERYONE need to know my uterus has thus far functioned as a fetal death chamber?)
Me: Hi. This is Miss W. I'm calling because today I had the blood Dr. P. ordered drawn to determine why I keep miscarrying. The lab says the results will be in by Wednesday. I have an appointment with the geneticist in your office on Thursday and would like to schedule an appointment to sit down with Dr. P, go over the results, and discuss where we go from here.
SRB: Did Dr. P order the tests himself?
Me: Yes.
SRB: One moment please *insert hold music* Ok, I looked and I don't have any lab results here for you, Miss W.
Me: No, you won't, I had the blood drawn THIS MORNING.
SRB: Oh, well Dr. P will call you and tell you the results when they come in. A doctor always calls when test results come in. (Now this, was said in a highly patronizing tone, as though I didn't know they would tell me my results. Apparently, by clearly stating what I wanted from her, I really sounded like a complete moron)
Me: I realize that. However, what I WANT (getting louder now) is to sit down, face to face, so I can look at Dr. P and ask him WHERE I GO FROM HERE TO STOP MISCARRYING EVERY TIME I GET PREGNANT! (realizing I almost screamed that in a room where people really do NOT want to know my reproductive problems, I went back to whispering) My husband works near NYC and because of the commute, it's hard for him to get to appointments. He already has time off Thursday. We want to come in on THURSDAY for an appointment with Dr. P.
SRB: Oh! Are you pregnant?
Me: NO! I AM NOT PREGNANT. I CALLED BECAUSE WE ARE TESTING TO FIND OUT *WHY* I KEEP MISCARRYING!
SRB: How about if I leave a message for Dr. P?
Me: (deflated) Fine.
SRB: So I'll just say you want an appointment to talk about where to go from here. But you should know, he's just going to say wait for the test results.
Me: That's not the message. The test results will be in before Thursday and I want to meet with him Thursday to discuss those results and determine where to go from here.
SRB: Ok, so I'll say 'lab results not in. wants appointment, where to go from here.'
Me: NO. I want an appointment Thursday when the lab results are in.
SRB: Ok, 'not pregnant, lab results in Thursday, wants appointment, where do we go?'
Me: Fine. Sure.
SRB: Ok, thanks for calling, b'bye.
*click*
I worked until 5. When I got home, I had several calls listed from Dr. P's office, but only two messages.
Message #1:
SRB: Hi, this is SRB, I called the lab that I think you use, well, it's the one listed on your insurance, but they don't have anything on you. So, if you could call me and let me know what lab you did use, that would be great.
Message #2:
SRB: Hi, SRB again. The lab doesn't know anything about any tests for you. So, if you did get them done, you didn't do them there. Where did you do them? Call me ASAP.
Did I miss something? Hoping to God when I call this morning that someone other than the Stupid Receptionist Bitch answers. Maybe I'll get lucky and get the All-Knowing Receptionist Goddess. I'm really hoping AKRG is not just an urban fertility legend.
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Monday, August 09, 2004
Tests and more tests
I can't wait for tomorrow. When I don't have to be stuck with a needle.
Almost a month ago I had blood drawn for the genetics testing: FIVE tubes from me. (Nine regular tubes and one super-deluxe jumbo tube for my husband--my poor baby!)
Today I have no idea how much blood will be taken, but the lineup of tests includes:
- Day 21 progesterone
- TSH
- Anticardiolipin antibody
- Lupus anticoagulant
- Protein C
- Protein S
- Factor V
- Leiden mutation
- MTHFR mutation
UPDATE: Back from the lab. NINE tubes of blood later, I'm a little tired/woozy, but good. The phlebotomist couldn't get blood from the first vein she tried (not at all unusual for me and my miniscule veins) but thankfully was able to get a good vein on the second try. Now I just have to figure out when I should schedule an appointment with my doctor. I meet with the geneticist to go over those results on Thursday. Presumably, my OB will also get those results that day. So, do I attempt to meet with him then to discuss today's bloodwork as well? Ah, the joy of not knowing a damn thing.
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Sunday, August 08, 2004
Down and out on the East coast
A friend just IM'd me. She said, "Hey, what's that website that tells you what your best days are to try for a boy or a girl?" I told her. Now, this friend is epileptic and has been married 2 years. Her husband has not wanted to even talk baby. But in March, she started seeing a slew of neurologists to change medications to one that had a less likely chance of causing developmental problems for her children. She's never said that this has completed and that things were "safe." Now, mind you, this friend? Is extremely annoying. I love her, but I love her in small doses. She knows all of the problems that I have had. And she says to me tonight, all happy, "Yeah, we get to start trying in NINE days, but who's counting??? Yay!!!!"
Yeah, as I sit here in the midst of tests, waiting on genetics results, getting more blood drawn on Monday, and having no clue when my doctor is going to allow me to try again. And so I ask you, what wine goes with a pound of macaroni and cheese?
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Friday, August 06, 2004
My Personal Hell -- Part II
I had a dream last night. In it I was standing in my bathroom, staring at a pregnancy test. It had the faintest positive line and I was terrified to call my doctor. Dr. P. said that I need to wait for the results of the genetics testing on my husband and me to come back (next Thursday)...that I can't get pregnant again before they have a day 21 progesterone level on me (Day 21 is Monday). So in my dream, I was crying not because I was pregnant, but because my doctor was going to yell at me. Now for most of you, this seems odd, I'm sure. But this is the same doctor that I HATED with everything in me for several months. Back in January, during all of the bleeding, when we had the ultrasound showing a gestational sac and fetal poles, he said something I swore I would never forgive:
"As I see it, you're miscarrying. I mean, we can have HCG levels done, but they're just going to show what I already know. A marked decrease, or at the very least, a leveling off. But, then again, I guess I've seen women with very little bleeding miscarry. And I've seen women with just shitloads of blood go on to have normal deliveries."
When my pregnancy continued, I got more and more angry. When I lost the baby a month later, I hated him.
When he was the one who told me about my second loss just 4 months after the first, I needed him. I needed his stark reality. He told me exactly what no one else would. He looked me in the eye and said "I don't know what the FUCK just happened!" He assured me that I would be a mother. And then he left me with my husband to go make the arrangements with the hospital. And then I sent my husband away to call our families. And I stood there, staring at the persian rug on the floor. I knew I had to leave. I also knew there were 2 pregnant women right outside the door. Dr. P. came back in, a bit startled to see me there crying. He hugged me and said that he knew, just felt deep inside that I *will* be a mother. He asked if I needed anything, and I said no, that I could do this. I walked out, past those other women, and went straight down the stairs.
The receptionist at the bottom was supposed to have the information for my second D&C, but wasn't completely finished with the hospital. I stood immobile at the foot of the stairs. I couldn't leave until I got that information. But the downstairs waiting room was filled with women and newborns waiting for their first appointment and pregnant women anxiously awaiting their turn with Walter and the ultrasound. I couldn't go in there. So I stood, staring at the industrial carpeting that covered the hardwood.
The receptionists all jumped. They ran searching for an office or exam room that was not in use. They led me into the front office, and a woman who looked familiar was clearing out her things so I could curl up on the antique sofa and cry. It's only now that I realize the woman was the genetic counselor I saw in 2001 to make sure that my laundry list of health problems would not affect my children...the same genetic counselor I will see next week to determine if my husband or I have some horrible chromosomal abnormality that has ushered me into Hell.
I cried there until my husband came in. He helped me get to my feet, and supported me all the way to my car. I called the fifth grade teacher in the classroom next to mine and left a message that she would need to make plans for my class. I called the sub service and told them I wouldn't be in because I was having surgery the next day. The woman took down the information and then said "the nature of your absence?" "I'm having surgery to remove the dead baby in my uterus." She sputtered out something to the effect of "you didn't have to go into that kind of detail." "I'm sorry." *click*
I waited for what seemed an eternity the following day for my surgery. Dr. S. performed this one too, and was so kind. I woke up and refused to speak. The nurses asked questions I wouldn't answer, and when I did, I could do little more than whisper faintly. I remember the phone ringing at the nurses' station. I heard them saying they didn't have a cordless phone, that they didn't think the phone would reach, that they would try to find a cordless phone. The phone rang again, they still hadn't found one, but alright Dr. P., we'll try. The phone was handed to me and Dr. P. asked if I was alright, if I needed anything, if there was anything that *HE* could do. I told him no, that I was cold and my stomach was sore, but I would be fine. He said to remember to tell the receptionist in his office that he wanted extra time with my follow up two weeks later so we could discuss where we go from here.
Somewhere between my routine ultrasound the day before and Dr. P. explaining my situation, I found the only doctor I really trust. The one who tells me exactly how he sees things, even if he isn't right. At least I know where I stand with him. He doesn't offer up false hope.
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Wednesday, August 04, 2004
My Personal Hell -- Part I
I've been really depressed lately. Which I suppose is understandable when you consider everything that has gone on in my life over the course of this year. The whole saga began on December 29. I hadn't been feeling quite right, so I took a pregnancy test. The joy I felt when I saw that positive is something that I can't even begin to describe.
I went back to work January 5 and at 9:30, I took my class downstairs to music. When I came back upstairs, I was bleeding. I called my doctor, called in a sub, and rushed to meet my husband at the OB's office for an emergency ultrasound. Terrified as I was, I had to look. And see--NOTHING. The ultrasound didn't show a pregnancy. I had a pelvic exam, and my uterus felt pregnant. The doctor said there were 3 possibilities: in process of an early miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy, or maybe my cycle was off and I got pregnant later than they had estimated. So, off to the lab for a blood draw to check the HCG. It came back alright, but there was more bleeding. Another emergency ultrasound--and there! A gestational sac! With fetal poles! Measuring 2 weeks small, but there! Confirmation! I ovulated 2 weeks late! But still, the blood.
So...More trips to the lab, HCG kept rising, more emergency ultrasounds. And then the most thrilling thing happened! Eight weeks after my last normal period, I had another ultrasound. And that's when I relaxed. I saw my baby....with a strong beautiful heartbeat. And I was sure that I was out of the woods. The bleeding even stopped! And having had several ultrasounds showing the baby 2 weeks small for my dates, I was certain that my cycle had been off the month I got pregnant. I scheduled my first OB appointment for 10 weeks, based on ultrasound measurements.
My doctor tried to hear my baby's heartbeat with the Doppler, but couldn't find it. He thought perhaps it was just too early. He scheduled an ultrasound for the next day just to ease my mind. And that is the day my world crashed.
My baby's beautiful strong heartbeat was gone. I was devastated. I opted to have a D&C. But because I had eaten, they wouldn't do it that day. It was a Friday, so I'd have to wait until Monday. I got home and my phone was ringing. The OB's office: "Monday is President's Day. The hospital isn't staffing day surgery. We have to wait until Tuesday." So, I spent Valentine's Day weekend taking pre-natal vitamins for the dead baby inside me while crying hysterically about the fact that I never even got a picture of my baby.
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Tuesday, August 03, 2004
Best laid plans...
After months of reading the witty blogs of others, it occurred to me that I just might have something to contribute to all of blogdom. I didn't make any rash decisions. I didn't start writing without some sense of where I was going with this. I thought long and hard. I came up with the perfect idea for my blog. It was wonderful--I was going to write so thoughtfully, so eloquently. I would have this massive readership, a following if you will. And comments. Lots of comments. I was going to inspire people, help their lives to become so much more than they had ever imagined their lives could be.
It was then that I realized the one flaw in my perfect plan:
I have nothing to say.
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