is over.  Yup.  Yesterday morning.  I was sort of surprised but not really.  The nausea went away on Saturday and my breasts stopped hurting Sunday morning .  I had one of those moments (I call them “Sidney moments” after our puppy who, upon learning something or seeing something fascinating, cocks his head to the side and perks his ears up…sort of like, “huh.  Oh.  Okay.”).  It was a Sidney moment because I sat in bed Sunday and thought, “Hubby was right, we were pregnant.”  As a result of the BT, I’m guessing the embryo grabbed on (I did have implantation spotting which is why the negative test was so confusing) and then just didn’t have the genetic material necessary to keep growing and therefore, didn’t produce enough HCG to show up on a test.  Classic BT.  Despite what the movies tell you, it is possible to be slightly pregnant.  This is my 4th or 5th time proving that fact…I’ve lost count.  How much does that suck?

But, glass half full me is also happy that I clearly ovulated and got pregnant again.  I was worried since I hadn’t been pregnant since February – the Clomid experiment produced nothing and a 42 day cycle is not normal for me.  Only time I’ve had a cycle that long was when I was pregnant.  Hubby said the same thing, he was ready to call in the RE out of fear that something as wrong.  Good to know we already know what was wrong, it’s “just” the BT. 

Also, anyone else starting to notice a pattern here?  I seem to get pregnant in the Fall.  The boys were conceived in November, 2007.  I had two confirmed pregnancies in November and December 2008 and now this one.  Maybe I’m more like a bear than a panda.  I want to eat, get fat, get pregnant and hibernate until the cub comes.  I really, really want that….Prehaps it’s my love of Halloween…I get happy with the approach of my favorite holiday and I’m sure my mood has something to do with my ability to conceive…

Whatever.  There is always next month, right?  That seems to be the story of my life…next month, and then the next month, and then the next.

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I love this time of year – the beginning of September which leads to Fall and October and Halloween – which is my absolute favorite holiday.  August is over and that’s a relief and it’s too early to worry about Thanksgiving and Christmas and the inevitable depression that will come from missing the boys.  September on the beaches in North Carolina is ridiculously lovely and Hubby and I usually take advantage of the lack of tourists to head out there at least a couple of times before the warm weather is gone.  Here at home, the leaves change to amazing jewel tones that this California girl didn’t think occurred in nature.  I marvel at the fireworks show that the trees put on.  October brings Mullet Festival (the fish, not the hair) and the informal family reunion.  In years passed, I have dreaded going but this year, I’m looking forward to it.  My best friend, M, will be coming for the State Fair in mid-October and I can’t wait.  And then Halloween…my favorite…I’ve already planned costumes for us and priced new yard decorations.  The mums are in bloom already and I need to put some in the yard…Fall and mums to me is like milk and cookies.

But my heart is heavy.  I thought I would be pregnant again.  All the way pregnant – not just the slightly pregnant that my body seems to be fond of but really, truly and totally pregnant.  But not yet, not that I know of anyway….

My birthday was yesterday and I haven’t cried that much on my birthday in I don’t know how long.  I cried for the boys, I cried because of an insensitive comment said to Hubby in my presence that morning (“So Hubby, got anymore offspring?”), I cried for Craig and Mirne and baby Jet, I cried for the baby that would have been had I not miscarried in December.

In the midst of all my tears, I laughed a lot too.  I was reminded how loved I am.  I was reminded that in the midst of all the pain that I feel, people care for me, people think of me, people root for me.  I had over 60 messages on Facebook wishing me a happy birthday, numerous cards came in the mail, and I got a ton of phone calls throughout the day.  For someone feeling all alone with her grief, that’s powerfully healing. 

I think the hardest I laughed yesterday was when I got my gift from Hubby.  Hubby saw my post about wanting to learn the violin or mandolin so he found me a beautiful violin for my birthday and a woman to give me lessons at lunch.  He said that he thought I needed “a little more music in my life.”  He’s right.  I know I don’t deserve him.  He’s amazingly kind, thoughtful and caring.  I’ve never met a man like him. 

Over dinner, I said to him, “I can play the violin for our baby when he won’t stop crying.  You know?  Play him to sleep.”  That’s the first time I let myself hope for a future baby in a long time.  I surprised myself when I said it.  It’s been months since I thought of OUR baby actually happening again.

So, next birthday, I will be playing a concert (using the loose definition of “concert”) at my house.

Hopefully, our baby will be there.

Long Distance Hugs….

June 30, 2009

Please head over to “Our Own Creation” and offer some hugs…their little bean had no heartbeat at the sonogram yesterday.

http://ourowncreation.wordpress.com/2009/06/30/the-morning-after/#comment-5031

Tell me again that life is fair….

Clomid Grumpies….

June 16, 2009

I think I am experiencing some side effects from the drugs.  I lost it yesterday when we were in a rush trying to get somewhere and I was having a hard time getting something together for our appointment…thankfully, I settled down and apologized to Hubby.  I think he understood.  This morning, EVERYTHING and EVERYONE is irritating me, just grating on my nerves….I’m not normally a grumpy person (actually since the Wellbutrin, it’s shocking to see me experience any kind of physical manifestation of emotion – I really have to be hurting to cry).  In addition, I have some cramping on the sides of my abdomen.  It’s not horrible but it’s not comfortable either…

So this is month is round 2 of the drugs and it’s gotten me thinking about when I got pregnant with the boys.  What did I do differently to get pregnant on the first try?  What was so different then from now?  We had moved to a new city and into a new house, we had very few money concerns for the first time, I was exercising like a crazy person – losing about 15 pounds, and I actually thought to myself, “this is the first time I feel like things are finally falling into place for us.”  In the past, Hubby and I have really struggled.  You have no idea how we have struggled.  We once moved and for 8 days, we had $1.19 in our checking account.  We had food, we had gas, dogs had food, and we had a roof over our head but we only had $1.19 to our names. 

So what’s different now?  I am working out 3 times a week at fitness bootcamp.  I love my house and while Hubby was laid off, I’m not overwhelmingly concerned with money issues.  We are getting by just fine with our savings and my salary. 

Could my grief and guilt be causing me so much emotional distress that I can’t get pregnant?  The last time I was pregnant for any length of time was in December, right before Christmas (interestingly, the EXACT same time I was pregnant with the boys the year before).  That’s how I knew things were going south with that pregnancy, I wasn’t experiencing the same symptoms in the same intensity as with the boys (yes, it’s different with twins but trust me on this, I knew).  So it’s been 6 months since any lengthy pregnancy and I am concerned and worried. 

Neither of those things are good for baby-making.  So what do I do?  The therapist says good self-care is key here.  Okay, I’m taking care of myself.   I exercise, I read, I lunch with friends, I’m going on a mini-vaca to the mountains with Hubby for our anniversary.  What else can I do?   I have this need to do something and I don’t know if just surrendering to the notion that “it will happen when it happens…” is something I can do.

This has dominanted my life for so long now that I am wondering if it’s time to walk away from the struggle and just “let go…”

Thoughts?  Insights?  Anything?  Anyone?

You Might Be…

June 12, 2009

Hubby and I were laying in bed talking about “stuff” (which for us is mainly baby talk – why don’t we have one, why did we lose our boys, etc…) and we came upon some “truths…”  If you are fertile-ly challenged, you may have discovered some of these yourself.  For instance, if you buy a pregnancy test, you will get your period on the way home from the store (and the price of the test is proportional to the quickness with which you will get your period, the more expensive the test, the faster it happens).  If you email the doctor that you are approaching a 35 day cycle, when you get up immediately after hitting “send,” you will get your period….(BTW, that apparently was the Clomid and it’s not uncommon.  Thanks for all of the encouragement and advice, I love my bloggy peeps).

I feel like that comedian, Jeff Foxworth and his “you might be a redneck if…” jokes (and sadly, some of his jokes apply to my family).   Tell me if you agree with these or have some of your own….

You might be fertile-ly challenged if your husband knows what day of your cycle you are on or even the history of your cycle (yes, mine does and so does the therapist.  Sigh.). 

If it’s not unusual for your closest friends to say to you, “so when do we pee on a stick?” you might be fertile-ly challenged (I love it, it makes me feel like I have my own little army battling the RBT for a baby, keeping me from giving up…). 

If you have weird superstitions like, “I have to wear THESE pants to the RE for my ultrasound,” you might be fertile-ly challenged (these are the same pants I wore to the day I found out I was pregnant and when I found out I was having twins – it was a 9 week ultrasound and I wasn’t really that big yet).

If some of the closest people to you have sat down and cried with you after your 3rd miscarriage and you are just to sad too go on…you might be fertile-ly challenged.

If you have ever gotten a card, a pair of socks, anything from someone you have yet to meet in person but faithfully reads your words because they too, have lost too much, you might be fertile-ly challenged (or made a new “in-person” friend because of the loss – I’m grateful for Amy).

If you have ever gotten pregnant and chanted over and over again for weeks (thus giving most of the neighborhood the idea that you talk to yourself on a regular basis), “hang in there Bean, hang in there…,” you might be fertile-ly challenged.

If any of these apply to you, you might be my people….

I’m sorry for that but I have discovered (and I hope you find out) that we are in good company.

I’m A Druggie.

May 4, 2009

Hubby and I just got back from the RE.  Dr. S prescribed us 3 months of Clomid.  We presented our case with controlled fervor and vehemence including supporting evidence but without getting overly emotionally ($100k worth of law school finally paid off in my closing argument to my RE…who would have thought?).  She needed a minute to wrap her head around the idea since this is not the approved treatment for a balanced translocation.  She wanted to make sure that we understood the increased risk for multiples (which is way low with Clomid but increased for me because of my previous history of splitting eggs) but in the end, she saw no reason not to try it for 3 months.  The big selling point for her was that we were open to starting with Clomid rather than an injectible.  The injectible drugs hyperstimulate a large number follicles which is why you get 6-7 follicles dropping.  Clomid is more likely to stimulate 2 or 3 at the maximum.  Less chances for a litter. 

I did promise her that if we were successful with twins, that was it.  I was done.  I would never set foot in that office again. 

See, I’m not greedy, I just want a baby.

I Lit the Fuse…

April 21, 2009

Now let’s all watch the bomb go off….

My mother sent me an email over the weekend that simply said, “I miss you.”  That was it.  I didn’t respond because I was still very angry about the Easter confrontation and the manner in which she handled it.  I knew that I needed to say something to her about the way that she and I have been relating to each other lately.  I admit that I am not totally innocent in this situation.  I have not been honest with her about my feelings and I have, at times, given in and rewarded her negative behavior.  I knew that I needed to talk to her before therapy last night.  We are still in the midst of the Mexican stand-off in terms of phone calls so I responded to her email.  Here is what I said:

My therapist said I should write you a letter so here goes.
 
See, I miss you because you are my mother and I love you and I need your understanding and support right now.  Instead, I get passive/aggressive behavior like the conversation we had before Easter.  You didn’t ask me to come for Easter.  You assumed I was coming and then got angry with me when I told you we weren’t coming.  I understand that you were disappointed and I’m sorry for that.  You didn’t ask me why we weren’t coming.  I had to lie to you because you didn’t have enough respect for me not to call me at work and get upset with me.  I couldn’t talk about the reason why we weren’t coming in the office.
 
That week before Easter was a really bad week for me but you didn’t remember that was the when I delivered the boys.  The worst day of my life and you didn’t remember.  And that’s fine.  I understand that it may not have had the same effect for you as it did for me.  But that and the fact that I had a miscarriage over that weekend, that was the reason why I didn’t want to come for Easter.
 
In addition, your repeated comments that you are “ordering a girl next time” have often made me feel like because they were boys, my twins didn’t matter to you.  That hurts me.  I understand that you were disappointed they were not girls but I am not.
 
I feel like I can’t trust you because when I call to talk to you when I’m having a bad day, you call Tim.  The one time I reached out to you because I was in so much pain, I couldn’t breath, you repeatedly asked me what was wrong.  You know what’s wrong.  Then you tell me not to cry.  Why in the world would I not cry?  And then you called Tim.  If I wanted to talk to Tim, I would.  I have no problem talking to Tim.  I wanted to talk to you.
 
My boys died a year ago and I’m having a hard time.  I’ve had 5 miscarriages in the past year and I’m tired, physically weak, and emotionally exhausted.  For a little while, there are going to be times when you want me to visit and I can’t.  It’s not because I don’t love you or I don’t want to see you or Tim is keeping me from you.  It’s because I don’t feel good – emotionally or physically.
 
I don’t want to lie to you anymore and I’m not censoring my conversations with you.  If you say something that hurts me, I’m going to tell you that you’ve hurt me and I will just deal with the silent treatment that will likely follow. 
 
I love you and I wish we could have the relationship that we used to have but right now, I would just settle for being able to be honest with you and not have you get angry with me or behave as if I have done something intentional to hurt you.  And if I do hurt you, I assure you that it’s not intentional.
Yup, I sent it yesterday about 3:45pm.  That large “BOOM” that you all heard here in the South, that was me, blowing 9 years of passive/aggressive crap wide open.
God, I feel nauseous.