Laying it all on the changing table

Well here it is. Sixteen blog posts written over the past seventeen weeks documenting our journey to this baby.  Today I would have been 38 weeks pregnant and probably expecting to meet our daughter in the next few days, so it felt like a good day to share this baby girl's story so far.

Start here:

Starting Again

Weirdness and the new me

10 week appointment went well.  Everything looked perfect.  Next week  hopefully we'll get the gender results and the week after that we'll have our first Level II Ultrasound. (This was the first one with Carter, and we immediately got to see what a rambunctious guy he was going to be! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hDI393mHbM)

But its weird.  I realized today that at this point, this baby (#3?) has been "with" me longer than baby girl was "with" me.  And I was sad because I haven't done a lot of the things that I had already done at this point the first two times. I'm not as excited. Still so nervous. There haven't been any bump pictures.  No belly book.  No maternity or baby gear purchases. (Even at a consignment sale this morning I decided to not even look.) We've kind of looked at names but didn't get far.  I've stayed somewhat removed because a part of me expected something to go wrong. Besides school knowing, only about 5-6 of our friends know.  Because its still weird to share for some reason.  I'm still having a hard time figuring out how to bring it up.  (why?!?)

It's been 25 weeks since the D&C.  Wednesday's appointment was 25 weeks since the bad news day. If we make it to the end of the first trimester before sharing it will be the same week that we would have met baby girl. If this baby comes at 38+1 like Carter, it will be 5 days after the first anniversary of our miscarriage.

I just know the timing isn't a coincidence.  God had a hand in this timing.  God had a hand in all of this, I know, but he's really making it obvious for me (since I tend to be dense about these sort of things).

I think lately I've been kind of annoyed because I don't feel like myself. And I think I realized today that myself has changed. I am not going to at some point go back to the person I was. I "knew" that, but I don't think I knew that. So now, I have to decide what the new Dana is going to be like. I hope that she's slower - less worried about rushing to the next thing, less worried about getting past "this stage" and more focused on savoring what is in the now. I hope she's hopeful again, because I haven't felt very hopeful lately.  I hope she's kind, sensitive, thoughtful, and present, because my friends were living examples of those things these last few months. I hope she's joyful. Patient would be good but I've never once prayed for patience so I doubt now is a good time to start. I hope she trusts wholeheartedly in God. I hope she's everything her husband needs in a wife, and the best mother she has the power to be. I hope she's less frustrated, less angry, less anxious, and better about standing up against Satan's dark whispers.  It's going to take time, but I think she can get there.

Next: 12 Weeks

What you fertile people don't get ;)

Bear with me here, and start with this video: (& I apologize there is one yucky word around 0:39)

http://youtu.be/BL-zFSj2Pi0

Now, I understood every word of this video, except MFIF.  Not because I've been through most of that, but because in the past I somewhat prepared myself for the possibility of needing to do some of that. Most of you have no idea what they were talking about. Because here's how it goes for you:

You decide you'd like a baby. You get off the pill (if necessary), maybe wait a couple months to get normalized (or don't). Start trying, and in 0-4 months (for most of my friends at least), you are pregnant. 9 blissful months pass, baby is born. You wait 1-2 years, decide it's time again, and repeat. no big deal.

For me, decide we want a baby. Talk to endocrinologist who tells you no, but tells you what has to happen so he'll say yes. You do those things, get the nod 9 months later, and get off the pill. You try for 4-5 months with no luck, and start trying harder (tracking BBT, CP, CM, using OPKs, etc). You might read a lot of stuff on the internet and in books about foolproof ways to help. And you might try some of them (candlestick method?). And for us, after 4-5 months of all that, we were blessed with Carter. 9 months and 3 dozen doctors appointments later, baby is born. Wait about 9 months to start trying again, realize something is more wrong than before, go to doc, get confirmation that although no tests show anything specific is wrong, something is definitely off, get offered clomid, take for 4 months (after doing copious amounts of research about clomid, positives, negatives, outcomes, etc). All the while trolling the internet and message boards for information, support, understanding. Get pregnant, 6 weeks pass, world falls apart when the unexpected happens (and suddenly all innocence surrounding the process is snatched away). Have d&c (which pre-insurance is $40,000 and they list it as an abortion, btw), rough recovery. 2-3 month wait while your uterus heals and your body replenishes the nutrients that are lost (and for me, extra iron to replace blood)(and if you don't know what extra iron does to you, count yourself lucky). Then back on the fertility drugs. Then when you do get pregnant again, you're thankful for magic drugs like femara, and feeling hope that although the drugs suck, you probably can get pregnant enough to have a big family, but also terrified the entire time that more bad luck will come your way and you'll lose another baby. 

It's just different. And I don't expect people to "get it". You can't. Just like I at this point cannot imagine losing my parents. Or my spouse. Or being homeless. Or fighting cancer. 

But. I totally think it's possible to (and most people do) recognize how complicated my feelings are due to what the last four years has looked like for us. Or anyone's feelings whose been through anything like this. (Disclaimer: there are many people in the world who work EVEN harder to have a family, I know this, I am actually in awe of these women for even functioning in society.)

Of my friends, there are many who have had a miscarriage (it's sadly common). I have two who have had multiple miscarriages after a successful first pregnancy (neither of whom have found a solution to that confusing problem, except adoption). I have one who has had multiple miscarriages (who did find a solution and now has a perfect baby boy). And I have one friend who has been trying to conceive for over two years (without assistance until now). (2nd Disclaimer: I may know more people that have struggled that I don't know about, not everyone is quite as unsecretive as I am, which is ok and understandable.)

But that means there are only a handful of people I know personally who "get it", or at least get some part of it. And that also is isolating. It can be just has hard for me to relate as it probably is for most people to relate to my mess. 

Do I have any brilliant advice? No. Well, this applies to anyone who has a friend who is going through something tough that they may not understand. Be there. Remind them you are there. Don't offer platitudes or generic statements of hope. Just acknowledge it sucks, but that you will be with them as long as it takes to get better. 

And something specific to pregnancy (just my opinion) (which you may not have thought of before, I know I really probably hadn't) - if you have a close friend (someone who's not just a Facebook friend) who you know is struggling to conceive, tell them privately if you are expecting, not publically. Text might even be better than in person. It is NOT that they won't be excited for you. It is NOT that they aren't going to celebrate that baby. For me, I just prefer time to process quietly in private. Caught unawares in public it is likely I embarrass myself with my tears. Even when someone you love has great news, there is still hurt (not toward that person but about the situation), and it is easier to deal with that hurt first, and then be able to smile and truly be excited in person. Even now that I'm pregnant I'm still surprised by the feelings that are stirred up by every baby announcement. It's momentary and I move quickly beyond the sting of the news to happiness for them, but it's still there. 

I hope this isn't too preachy.  That isn't my intent at all.  Just have had a couple recent conversations that led me down this path of thinking.

 I know women from other generations would have quietly struggled with infertility with no hope, no plans, no explanation. They would have either adopted or become the best aunts. But in this day and age it is so different. There is so much we do understand, even though it definitely is little compared to what we don't. There are so many fixes, options. But with that is still a lot of stress. A lot of pressure. A lot of feelings that are understandable even when they're irrational. I think the best bet is what Plato said. "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."

Next: Green Olive

Dear baby girl.

Last night, I told my counselor that we were pregnant. (Last week she had told me she had a dream where I told her I was pregnant, so this week I told her she could be a fortune teller!) We talked a lot about all my many complicated feelings about this pregnancy. Joy of course, but currently that is secondary to anxiety and fear. There is an initial innocent assumption that everything will turn out ok that has been replaced by the experience that the world just doesn't always work that way. I told her that in some ways I am trying to remain detached until I get some positive information that so far everything looks good. And her response is though that seems like a good idea, another idea is to approach those feelings head on. She asked how I would feel about writing a letter either to this new baby, or to our baby girl (or both). Although I haven't even begun this letter and I'm already uncomfortable, I'm going to forge ahead and see what I get...

Tiny one,

Even though you were oh so tiny when we lost you, and I only knew you for about 6 weeks, I loved you so so so much so so quick. You see, I felt pretty early you were a girl, and I was SO excited. Momma is a girly girl who loves shopping, pink, glitter, bows, Barbies, and ruffles. I have a special relationship with my Mom & Dad, and was excited your Daddy and I would get to share that with our own daughter. We were so excited about how close you would be to your brother. I knew he would be so good with you and would both protect you and give you a hard time. 

We had to work kind of hard to get you! I was actually sad when your brother was born because I loved being pregnant and loved having him in my tummy. I was ready pretty soon to be pregnant again. After several months it became clear that it wasn't going to be easy, so we found a doctor to help us. We couldn't believe it when we were finally successful! We started talking about names, I bought a double stroller, and even grabbed a pair of pink boots the week we were going to find out for sure if you were a girl or boy.

And yet I had been feeling uneasy for a long time. Every time we would go to the doctor I held my breath until we saw you. Every twinge was worrisome. And I heard your heartbeat at home and cried, because I was so relieved and happy. But then I couldn't find it so daddy could hear it, and I started to worry. The day I found out you were gone was no doubt the worst day of my life. I felt so alone. 

You have no idea the impact you had on our lives. It is extremely difficult to mourn someone who you never met or held, and yet had already dreamed countless dreams for. We miss you and what you could have been. You remind us to cherish what we have. Your big brother is even more special to us now that we know what a miracle we received to get pregnant naturally and not have any problems. Now that we are pregnant again, and dreaming of a new future with another baby, we are approaching everything differently. We are trying to protect our hearts, and not make assumptions, because there is no guarantee that we will meet this baby either. 

And yet there is hope. Hope in that we did get pregnant again. Hope that we will have another little girl. Hope that the fluke occurance that hurt your little heart won't happen again. Hope in that we have one perfect child and more will come. 

October 28th will always be a rough day for me. This October, we will hopefully be announcing that we are expecting again, but I will always remember. And April 2nd and 4th may always be hard too, but hopefully we also will get a new reason to smile next April. 

Know that not only will you never be forgotten, but I have also promised myself never to forget to be thankful for what I have, because I have been given many gifts, and none of them as special as my children. 

Love, 
Momma

Next: Reflections

My ugly feelings.

This has been a hard week. We have had family stuff the last three weekends in a row, all involving people at our house, and we are gearing up for another weekend of guests. Louis and I haven't gotten to just relax and check in with each other in what feels like forever. (Not complaining about the company, it's been really fun, I just miss my quiet time with Louis!) Also, I ran out of my Zoloft prescription on Sunday, and was unable to refill it because our insurance is stupid. We are also days away from finding out if we're pregnant or not, and I'm impatient. It is also our 6th anniversary, which has led to some reflection that has left me with a menagerie of emotions... Here are the big three.

1) sad. I haven't felt straight up sad in  awhile. But this week has seen tears. I've seen photos of friends on Facebook holding their littles next to their big belly, and it has made me so sad. That should be me right now. I wanted that so badly. I definitely did not see us being married this long with only one child to show for it. If I'd written out a 6 year plan I would have expected to be pregnant with our third right now!  

2) angry. I've been angry for months now but this week the anger has been different. Not only have I seen a couple of news articles that prove that procreation should require a written exam and psychology testing, but my anger is turning away from the situation and towards others (not good I know). There are people who straight up don't deserve what they get. And that goes both ways. There are great people who have horrible hardships, and bad or mediocre people who everything seems to come so easily to. I know that what's equal isn't necessarily fair and what's fair probably isn't equal, but why? Why do some people have hurdle after hurdle to clamber over, and others just skip right along? I know that some people have things that they're dealing with that we can't see, but I know people who aren't dealing with anything, haven't dealt with anything, and whose life is going according to plan. And this isn't just a "why them and not me". This is about ALL the inequity. I have some friends fighting major, major battles I could use as examples but I don't want to embarrass them. This week it is making me so so angry. (And yes, I know that there is no good answer to all my questions and that's also making me angry) ;)

3) jealous. I'm jealous frequently. It's not a big deal. I think it's pretty common. I don't really get wrapped up in it or become consumed by it. Just a momentary comparison and I find myself wanting in some way (tan skin & voluminous hair get me every time) but I move on. But this week. Every belly, every baby, every pregnancy post, photo, comment, etc. gets me so down in the dumps. And I know some people get it. Some people are so aware of the miracle, the blessing, the gift. But others? Take the whole experience for granted. And I'm so jealous. Of the cravings & aversions, of the swelling, of the weight gain, insomnia, indigestion, heart burn, morning sickness... Because all those things are symptoms of the best thing in the world. Seriously. And if that sounds totally crazy to you then you might want to take a moment and process this. It is a gift. Every time you feel anything that makes you uncomfortable (even the hemorrhoids), remind yourself that you have been given a gift. Because truthfully I would have happily been as sick as I was the entire 9 months (or heck, 18 years) if that meant baby girl would have survived. I would have made that deal in an instant. 

I'm also thankful this week. Thankful for our families. Thankful for some of the very best friends I can imagine. Thankful that while we are struggling to conceive we have a roof over our heads, food in our fridge, cars to get us places, jobs to provide for our present and future, and the BEST little boy in the 'verse. (Firefly reference? Anyone?)

Next: Robin Williams Gave Me Good News

Grief. And a little hope.

There's a girl I don't really know, but whom I know through mutual friends, who recently experienced a very big loss of her own. She and her husband have been committing to adopting internationally since they got married. Not because they can't conceive naturally (I don't know them well enough to know if they've ever tried), but because their hearts are in love with sweet African babies in orphanages. They actually were matched with a little boy, and went through the entire process, went to pick him up only to learn that he wasn't theirs any longer. She had to come home empty handed to a house ready for a toddler.

My heart is still broken for them, and reading her blog made me ugly cry, because so many of the feelings she has are ones I can empathize with. I did not have the pleasure of meeting my child, of holding her, or seeing her smile, and while in someways I think that's harder, in other ways I think it's easier. 

I miscarried about 15 weeks ago. I would be 25 weeks now, and only 3 months away from delivery. That blows my mind. I feel silly sometimes, that something that was only in my life for 6 weeks and two days (how long I was aware of being pregnant), has such a strong and long-lasting impact on me still. I'm going to get my big family right? No matter the method or cost? So why so much pain and worry now? I'm not sure, because that's what I do, worry?

This girl (I want to call her a friend because I've read every blog post but honestly I don't know if she would even remember who I am), has been having guest bloggers post recently. And one of the most recent wrote something I wanted to share: 

"If you have a friend in the thick of grief, don’t abandon them. Don’t put a time-limit on your compassion.These things play out differently for everyone, and no one wants to feel like their grief is taking too long or inconveniencing others. Just keep on with them. Keep encouraging them. Keep crying with them. Keep assuring them this hand they have been dealt really does suck as much they feel like it does. Just be with them. It will look different in every relationship. But forget about time and cliches that attempt to comfort. Hug them. Take them out for dinner, if they feel like getting dressed. If they don’t, bring them a pizza and watch a stupid movie with them. If they want to talk, listen. If they don’t, just sit. Your pretense of understanding is unnecessary. Your compassion for their hurting hearts are what will help pull them out of bed on those harder days."

I have some amazing friends who even though they cannot understand what we are going through, have stuck with me and are still reminding me that they're with me. You know who you are, and thank you!

I'm not "over" this. As a highly emotional, highly sensitive, female with a good memory, I probably won't ever "get over it". And I think I'm ok with that. Time will make it easier to bear. Things will happen that will make the first week in April good again. And the last week in October. I will be able to see an ultrasound, a bump picture, or a Facebook announcement without getting upset. I know that in a decade, when I feel like my family is complete and I'm exhausted by all the laundry, cleaning, and cooking that comes with multiple kids, I will look back at this time. I won't remember it fondly or anything, but hopefully I remember it as a time of growth. Of reprioritizing. Of focusing on the good. Of learning to take advantage of what I have in this moment, and not worrying about tomorrow, next week, next month, next year.

I bought some super on sale maternity pants today because um $12 from Gap? And because I feel 99% sure I will carry another baby (or three). I will. And as silly as I felt buying something I don't need, I felt kind of good that it showed that I have not given up hope. Even though some days I want to wash my hands of this whole fertility thing and go grab 3 of those immigrant children and bring them home (and then learn more than the 3 dozen Spanish words I know). And if that is God's plan, we'll see it through as well. But not before giving the (semi) "old fashioned way" a good fight. 

Next: My Ugly Feelings

Not pregnant

Seriously the worst words in the universe. For some people that would be good news, but I have never taken a pregnancy test and wanted that result. I will warn you, this was a rough time for me and this may be a rough post.

I just took a test and even though it *could* be too early to tell, it was one of the highly sensitive ones, and so it could have picked up on something if there was something to pick up on. I saw the single line and my heart dropped and I now have a headache and am sick to my stomach. As much as I knew this was the probable result after 3 previously failed cycles and the results of the ultrasound, a HUGE part of me wanted this cycle to work. I wanted to get pregnant immediately, with another little girl, or heck, two. That would be redemptive. 

I am just so darn angry that this is so difficult. Why? Why? Why? ALL I want is to be a pregnant. Seriously. I would give up our house, my new car, my closet full of clothes, all the little luxuries I enjoy, heck I would probably give up diet coke and chocolate forever if someone told me that would mean we could get pregnant when and how we wanted. Oh and carbs. And reading. 

I'm going to say something that will probably upset a few people but it's how I feel and that's that. The miscarriage was difficult. Heart breaking. Soul cracking. Faith rocking. It is impossibly difficult to grieve someone you didn't even know, but fell so completely in love with in a matter of seconds. You don't have memories to remember them by, and so many outsiders cannot relate. BUT. To me, the monthly (yearly?) struggle to get pregnant is a little worse. Yes, there isn't loss. But there also is very little hope. 11.5 months of pregnancy in 40+ un-prevented months doesn't make for good odds. Now multiple miscarriages, that's a different story. Something I can't comment on. But not being certain if 1) I can or will get pregnant again PLUS 2) the possibility of losing another baby takes such a huge emotional toll...

I am constantly consumed with thoughts about our family, our angel daughter, our potential future children and the possibility of having to find another avenue to complete our family. Constantly wondering if the drugs are doing what they should, if a good sperm got with a good egg and implanted or not. If I am a few weeks pregnant or just waiting for my period. If next month is going to be the trick. Is March 23rd going to be my due date? Or end of April? Or May? Or the summer? Or never again? 

Between my OCD, my type A-ness, my anxiety, and my control issues, this is something that is FAR too big to easily give up to God. I cannot figure out how to not think about it, not worry about it. Not wonder and dream and hope but also be realistic. That isn't my nature and if that is the point of all this drama then that stinks. How do I give it up? Does anyone have any advice? Has anyone else also been through something so big that they couldn't do it alone? I can not physically do any more than I'm doing right now. But I don't know if I can emotionally back off.

Next: 27 Needles

Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.

Yesterday, Louis and I went to the genetic counselor and learned more about the results of the testing that was done after my miscarriage. Baby girl had Turners Syndrome, which is a genetic but not hereditary chromosomal abnormality where there is only one X chromosome present. 

I don't know what you remember from high school biology, so I'll give you a refresher.  Every cell in our bodies has 46 chromosomes matched in 23 pairs in the nucleus. The 23rd pair is the sex chromosomes, and you either have two Xs or an X and a Y. Sometimes, when the eggs and sperm are formed through meiosis (ooh remember that?) the chromosomes don't split correctly. Sometimes one gamete (sperm or egg) gets extra chromosomes (called a trisomy) and sometimes they don't get enough (as in the case of Turners).

The counselor told us this is for sure a fluke thing, rarely happens a second time, and reiterated that there was nothing either one of us did wrong or could have changed. Turners results in a miscarriage 95% of the time, usually by the 12th week. The other 5% of the time the baby girl is born full term, though she likely will be very petite (less than 5'), and will not have properly developed ovaries and will not go through puberty without hormone therapy. They are able to carry children, though they must use IVF and donor eggs to become pregnant. There is also sometimes a learning disability present, and often heart defects. They are unsure why 1 in 20 survive, though they theorize that in the 19 in 20 who don't, the heart defect is more severe and causes a fluid buildup in the fetus. 

I am thankful that we live in a day and age where this type of information is available. I am thankful to have many answers to our questions and have some reassurance as we move forward. I am sad that my instincts that it was a girl were correct, simply because my heart wanted a girl and then we lost her (not that losing a boy is better, duh!), though my sister pointed out that now we know we can make little girls! Hopefully the pink boots I bought will get worn :) I am thankful to know that what happened is very common, and unrelated to diabetes or clomid, and was nothing more than bad luck. I am still anxious to see God's plan come to fruition. 

I often wish that I could speed up time to already be pregnant again, or get through the first trimester, or whatever, but I am trying to remind myself instead to be present in my life as it is right now. To love every moment with the cutest boy I've ever had, to take pride in our house, in the meals I make, in how I dress, to engage fully in every conversation I have with a friend. It sounds silly, but while in Chicago we went to the planetarium and saw a presentation that kind of put human life in a universal perspective. Y'all, the earth is 4.5 billion years old, and has another 4 or so to go. The universe is nearly 14 billion years old. We only get 80 or so of those years to enjoy, and even though we know we have something great to come, this life is pretty great too, and we shouldn't waste it. What are you going to do to enjoy today? Who do you need to tell that they're special to you? What can you change to make your life the best it can be right now?

Ouch

A couple of weeks ago I got a package in the mail from someplace in California, and not expecting deliveries I ripped it open, eager to see what it was. "From Pea to Pumpkin: A Pregnancy Journal" Ouch. Forgot about that. (Side note, it had been over a month since I ordered it- why so long?!) I opened it up for a minute and then closed it and walked it upstairs to the bookshelf. 

Today I got an email from Ovia, which is a pregnancy app I used, but deleted long ago. (I'm uncertain why this is the only email I've gotten?) But this email joyfully announced that I was 20 weeks, 4 days, and could potentially be suffering from back pain as my body is growing and stretching, but as I'm now definitely feeling baby's flips and kicks, I should feel good about being past the halfway point. Ouch. And wow. 20 weeks? Not only would I now be 18-19 weeks away from meeting our baby, but that means at this point I haven't been pregnant longer than I was (clear as mud?). Its CRAZY how little time it takes to fall in love with a little alien-like bean and make plans and dreams for them, and how long it takes to get past the loss. Though the last 10 weeks have gone much faster than I thought they would. Now we're at the point of starting this process again, and I have a lot of mixed emotions. Sadness still, anger definitely (though my counselor told me anger is a secondary emotion), frustration, confusion, anxiety. But also excitement and hope. 

And HOPEfully we will have good news to share soon. Since this is all out in the open, know that we will share as soon as we feel comfortable. I LOVE having people check in with me. LOVE having friends tell me they're thinking of me, praying for me. LOVE the support we've received. But just know that I need to keep this process close to the vest for a little while, so "how are you doing?" or "praying for you" or "thinking of you" are preferred questions/comments to "how's the fertility stuff going?" ;) I'm not a good liar, pretty horrible about hiding my emotions when it's something this big, and when I have a good secret it's hard to not share (just with respect to myself, I can assure you I keep other's secrets just fine)! So if you ask me directly, I'll either be forced to be falsely positive about it, lie, or spill my guts, whether they're happy or sad, and I would rather not do any of those things! 

Hope everyone is having a good weekend so far! Louis let me edge the yard, so I'm feeling like a boss ;) Now we have to clean house to get ready for Mimi & Papi & Uncle D to come tomorrow! And Happy Fathers Day tomorrow! I'm excited to spend it with all three of the dads in my life, and I hope it's a good day for everyone, in some way.

1 week

It's been a week and I've been getting some "how are you doing?"s, so I thought I'd give a full update to everyone interested. (Instead of just the "ok, thanks" texts I've been sending.) ;)

Honestly. Fine. But also "fine". 

Friday we were at the hospital for 13 hours (when we had been told to expect about 3-3.5) because I lost a lot of blood during the procedure and it took 5 liters of fluids and several hours of monitoring to keep my blood pressure high enough that I wasn't in danger of passing out (after it happened once there they weren't letting me leave until they were certain it wouldn't happen again). But I haven't had any pain other than some very very intense but short-lived cramping on Thursday night. So in that respect, fine. It's like nothing happened. I told Louis I kind of wish I was hurting more because then it would signify that I really was 10 weeks pregnant and did really lose the baby.

I am also "fine", and if you've seen "The Italian Job" with Mark Wahlberg you know what I mean (& if you haven't, go Netflix it right now). When I'm busy I'm ok, but then there are moments I'm certain I'm having a mental breakdown. I consider myself a little mental anyway, but I'm not really sure what normal is in this situation, so I don't know if crying about the fact that Clinique discontinued the eyeshadow color I've been wearing since freshman year of college is normal or not. ;)

Random side note: There are some people I haven't heard from that I expected to and I'm not sure if that's because they don't know or don't know what to say, and while I definitely assume they just don't know it's been a lesson to me that if I ever know that a friend is hurting I need to say something, anything, to let them know I am there with them. Saying the wrong thing is not necessarily worse than saying nothing. And everything everyone has said has been so kind and encouraging and helpful. And this is not accusatory to any one person, just an observation!

I think the hardest thing right now is that as lonely as I feel regularly (just because I'm a stay at home mom whose 16 month old's and dogs' conversation skills are limited), I feel even more so now. Even though this is not a unique situation and several people have reached out saying, "I went through this too, let me know if you need anything", I still feel isolated. And yet I am scared to leave the house. Until yesterday I hadn't worked up the courage to see anyone other than strangers. I don't want to talk about it, I don't want to think about it- I can't do either without falling apart. I am so so SO thankful for the digital support (& baked goods support!), but I don't think I can really talk about it in person yet. It's hard because I did thoughtfully & purposefully make this journey public, but it would be easier to hide if it was secret. But I think if I was hurting in secret I would be upset that no one knew the pain I was in. Double edged sword I suppose. I'm frustrated as I see life going on around me (why has no one else's life come to a standstill?)(yes I realize this is irrational and nonsense), and yet I don't know what to do with myself as I wait for the next few months to pass. (Which I'm not happy about for several reasons, a recently realized reason being that I would like to "get right back on the horse", but the forced wait period has the potential to make next go around even more anxiety filled than it already is.) 

This week we moved Carter upstairs to his big boy room so that will be my distraction for awhile. I need to alter his window treatment, hang pictures & his shelf, find a system to organize the few toys in there, and I want to paint the door with chalkboard paint and I've come up with a way to make a tent for him. Then I could paint our bedroom, hang curtains, maybe paint the bathrooms, the kitchen, add cabinet knobs...? How many projects can I come up with?  Probably a lot. Hopefully enough. 

The Worst Day

So we bought a Doppler fetal heart monitor last pregnancy with Carter. Some say that the only thing they are good for is creating worry, but we enjoyed having it. Never panicked if we couldn't find the heartbeat immediately, but for a couple months before I could feel him move it was nice to check in every week or so & listen to his strong heart.

This pregnancy I started listening around 9 weeks, knowing it was pretty early & difficult to find, but last Thursday & Friday I was rewarded with the sweet gallop of baby. But on Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and today I couldn't find it again. Logically I knew baby was tiny and easily hidden, but somewhere deep inside the uneasiness that I have felt for weeks (inexplicably) started to grow. And this morning I called the doctor & he squeezed me in.

 He wasn't worried when he couldn't find it on the Doppler either, and during the abdominal ultrasound just said he couldn't get a good picture, but gently told me during the transvaginal ultrasound that he wasn't finding a heartbeat anymore. He said that baby was measuring a couple days behind, which jives with my troubles starting Saturday. He also saw an excess of fluid around baby which is often the case in a chromosomal problem. 

He told me that our situation is somewhat rare. Something like 3-5% of pregnancies end in miscarriage this point in pregnancy, after seeing a heartbeat, but in 99% of cases the cause is chromosomal. Something somewhere didn't come together right. He said for my own peace of mind they can run tests to confirm this. It wasn't anything I did or didn't do. It wasn't me or my diabetes or the clomid. I couldn't have made this happen if I tried. And this happening does not mean it will happen again. All which is comforting. 

But. 

I'm still sad. Mad. Frustrated. Confused. Disappointed. Not quite hopeless but scared to go through this again. We are doing a d&c on Friday and he said we can try again in 3 months. Supposing we are successful the first month that puts baby #2 (or 3? What do I say?) coming next April I think. Carter will be 2.5. Not bad but further than I wanted. 

I think I'm confused most with the reasoning. I know that God didn't *make* this happen. But why is it so hard to get the one thing I think I'm meant to have? I never wanted to be a movie star or a billionaire. Never felt certain I was meant to save the world or cure cancer. No world peace or going to the moon. I am certain I was meant to be a mom. So why are there people pregnant who didn't try, don't even want a baby, aren't prepared for a baby, and who are, heaven forbid, aborting their babies, and I can't have a sibling for Carter? I know that my feelings are not unique or special nor is this the first time I have felt this way, but for the first time I am terrified. I am scared out of my mind that this will happen again. (How many times can I grieve this way before we would have to stop?) I'm scared that I am forever going to struggle for what I want. That we may get only one baby. That I may not have savored my pregnancy with Carter enough. That I took it for granted. (End pity party.)

Why am I sharing these very private feelings about a very private situation publically? I'm not sure. Partly because after being semi-reclusive as we went through the fertility treatments (which just stressed me out and made it hard for me to be around certain personalities) and then hermit-like as I've been so sick, my confinement will continue for awhile, and that deserves an explanation. I will want to be a part of the fold again at some point, and don't want to have to work my way back into my group of friends because they think I don't like them anymore. ;) I just can't handle much for the next couple of days/weeks. I am not a big enough person to not be hurt or jealous as friends announce their pregnancies in the coming months, and even if we are pregnant again this fall will be especially difficult. 

Also, to chase off any questions about "when we want to have another one?" Obviously the little old ladies in the grocery store or Target won't have read this, but I would like to avoid explaining that if I had MY way, #2 would be arriving this summer, but instead will at best come next Spring.

I have written throughout these last 6 months, and it has definitely been cathartic. Somehow putting it on paper/the screen gets it off my heart a little bit. It's somewhat easier to go through I think when everything isn't bottled up inside. Even though these blog posts have been secret, I have been blessed to have a few friends & my family who know everything that is going on, and that is crucial. I am definitely upset about having to untell my news to those that know, but all the same most of the people that do know are people who are supportive and amazing and absolutely worth letting in. 

I also feel like I have friends who are very sensitive to others fertility woes, and other friends who aren't insensitive, but perhaps naive. It never hurts anyone to walk a little ways in someone else's shoes. So hopefully this gives someone a chance to do that. Not to say, "suck it up and stop complaining about your "miserable" life with your healthy, beautiful, easily-created kids", but then again kind of. I think we all need a wake-up call every so often. I certainly have been less patient with Carter than I should have, and he deserves a better version of his momma than that. It is foolish to waste even one day with our blessings. 

One positive is that Louis and I have already reconnected in big way. I have been frustrated with him for working so much and not helping enough, and he's been frustrated with me for being myself ;) and since he gets home at 6:30 and I'm exhausted and go to sleep by 9:30 we haven't spent much time together, especially quality, actively loving time. We have basically not stopped touching, holding hands, snuggling, hugging since he got home yesterday afternoon and slept spooned together, moving back together every time I woke up too far from him. He is my rock and the one of the big reasons I am functioning at all. 

I am scared about tomorrow morning's d&c procedure. While I know logically that my baby is no longer there, I'm not sure I'm ready to be done. If you're awake and available at 7 am, my doctor will be starting, and even though I hope I'm unconscious (no one explained what happens and I can't handle googling it), I would love to know that I have some powerful prayer warriors with me.