October 28, 2009

That’s how I feel.  I feel squashed.  Hopes, dreams, desires, everything just feels squashed.  I can’t even breathe right now, I’m just so defeated and deflated.  I continue to try and find options for financing for adoption and I think that I’m out of options.  A personal loan is the only thing I can think of that I haven’t tried and no one is giving personal loans.  Hell, Hubby couldn’t even get student loans this year without his mother cosigning for him and they used to hand that money out like it was prostitute advertisements on the Vegas Strip.  My last ditch effort was trying to take a loan against my life insurance policy and I was denied (haven’t had the policy long enough).

I haven’t felt this bad in a while.  When the world around you seems to be moving forward and you feel stuck, it’s hard not to feel bad.  I hate feeling sorry for myself, I hate it.  I’m trying to be proactive and do something to ensure that the boys will have brothers and sisters.  I’m trying but I can’t do anything right.  I can’t make money grow on trees or my fucked up genes split properly and aligned with each other so as to produce a beautiful sibling for A and B. 

Compounding this is that I want to be happy for all of my pregnant friends but the ones that haven’t had losses, it’s hard to get excited for them.  I know that sounds screwed up.  I totally understand that some of you might read that and think, “what a bitch.”  Those women get to be part of a club that I will never belong to…”the blissfully ignorant shiny new baby mommy club.”  Not me, I will never get that again.  Fine, I’m a bitch.   And that’s totally not fair to those women because I would hate for anyone to feel as bad as I do right now.  I wouldn’t wish this on anyone – not my worst enemy…so I’m considerate and sweet and post congratulations and send cards and gifts when all I really want to do it scream, “I’M SO PISSED OFF AT THE UNIVERSE RIGHT NOW I CAN’T STAND IT!!!!”

I think to myself, “I really want to be pregnant again and you know, this will be THE month it happens” and I smile like a jackass.  And then negative me counters with, “get pregnant all you want, honey, you will never make it to 40 weeks – hell, you won’t make it past 8 weeks.”  And there are lots of tears alone in the car.  What do I do with negative me?  She’s right, that’s the thing, she’s right.  All I know is that I fear getting pregnant but I want to be pregnant more than anything but one thing – I just want my boys back.

Losing the Battle…

October 6, 2009

I heard this quote this morning on NPR:

“The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places. ” – Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms.

I had forgotten about this book and this quote having read it YEARS ago.  When the person being interviewed said the quote, he was referencing his own war experiences.  He mistakenly thought the quote was a reflection of the character “Henry” and, by extension, Hemingway’s experience of being wounded in a mortar attack in Italy during World War I.

In fact, the quote is made by the character “Henry” in reference to his son being born still, not war.  I realized as I was driving that while the interviewee attributed the quote to the wrong loss for the main character, death of our boys was like a battle.  It was like a war.  I’m hurt, I’m bruised and bloodied.  Hubby is wounded – there exists collateral damage in our life.  There is tremendous loss and a deep well of anger.  There are days when The Battle of Grief and Loss is more costly than any other war I can think of…There are days when I’m sure I’m losing The Battle and those are days I am grateful for The Silent Army…

I just wish The Battle would end soon….

So my friend, J, said no to the certificates.  She has her reasons and I won’t share them here but I understand and respect her honesty.  I think I have a backup plan with the help of my good friend, K….I will keep you posted.

Apparently, I am not the only one who gets little flashbacks from the Labor and Delivery room…

Hubby and I went to a ball game on Saturday with a group of sorority alum and husbands.  Somewhere during the game, the subject of when the cut off birthday is for kids to start school here came up.  It’s August 31st.  My friend’s baby is due the 27th, I think so she and her husband starting talking about how induction HAD to happen on whatever date and such…sadly, me and Hubby were sitting in between them so they were having this conversation over us.  My friend’s hubby said something about, “well, as least it will be quick…” and Hubby said, “really?  That wasn’t our experience…”  The friend’s hubby didn’t miss a beat and said, “oh that’s just the first one…”  At which point, Hubby looked at me and said, “sure they tell you takes 6 hours but 48 hours later and you are still there, right?  Let’s go take a walk…”

See the doctors told us that usually, once the drugs are administered, the whole process is over in a couple of hours since my body should be ready and willing to “give up” the babies – we would be home by Sunday afternoon at the latest.  The fact that the pills kicked in at 7pm on Saturday night and went full force for another 48 hours has been a constant source of pain for Hubby – I don’t remember most of it.  Hubby insisted that I get the maximum amount of morphine allowable during this time so I slept for most of Saturday night and Sunday.  That means that he was essentially alone, in the room with his thoughts for that whole time – alone to take care of me.  When my IV would run out, he would go find a nurse to replace it.  When it was time for the next application of the drug, he would go and find a resident to give it to me…He was all alone during this time…The discussion on Saturday of the joys and convenience of induction really brought back those feelings of fear and grief and loneliness and sadness…for both of us.


April 22, 2009

So I sent the letter on Monday.   I have not heard from my mother yet.  Total silence.  I thought she would call last night and while I don’t think I would have answered, I was really surprised that she didn’t call…sigh….I don’t know what to do…I guess there isn’t anything to do but wait…she’s pissed at me, I know it…Do I regret sending the letter?  Nope.

We have an appointment to see the RE in about a week to discuss “super-ovulation.”  A woman on the Balanced Translocation Yahoo Group who has the same translocation that I do emailed me that her RE wouldn’t do the super-ovulation because, like me, she got pregnant easily.  People with my type of translocation are the most common and it’s the least severe in terms of how it effects staying pregnant.*  Yeah me.  Anywho, her RE said that she would not do the super-ovulation because if she kept trying, eventually one would stick.  This is why IVF with Pre-genetic diagnosis is not recommended for me either.  The cost does not justify the benefit.  And the great news is, she now has two children, just like I got pregnant with the boys.  Great.  Groovy.  So I’m supposed to  just keep trying.  This is not a third child that I am trying for here people – I don’t have any other living children to look at and think, “I’m okay with one.”  I would have stopped at the boys if they had lived.  I’m not being greedy.  I want the universe to understand that.  I’m not being greedy…just…OH COME ON!!! (fist is raised in the air and I am looking up…)

So I keep trying and it’s loss after loss.  I’m pregnant for 2 weeks then I’m not.  I don’t even get excited over a positive HPT anymore.  If it’s not a super-dark positive line, chances are, it’s not sticking.  I don’t even call the doctor – I don’t plan to until I hit the 9 week mark (I’ve gotten to 8 weeks twice now, I figure I make it to 9, then I will get excited..or not).  I just monitor my symptoms in case of an ectopic pregnancy and usually, one day I wake up and I don’t feel pregnant anymore.  And this is my life, over and over again.  Watching people around me get pregnant, have babies and move forward.  I’m stuck here in a cycle of loss that feels never ending.

My RE will  probably say no to the super-ovulation but I have to ask.  For my peace of mind, I have to ask.

*There is a whole world of this out there involving Robertsonian Translocations and break points and trisomy 13, 18, Down’s Syndrome.  If you are interested, email me but it’s a lesson in Genetics and my recall from college has been really tested….

Baby Boys

April 7, 2009


I miss you terribly and I love you. 

I cannot believe it’s been a year since you were delivered but your Dad and I will always love you and hold you in our hearts.


Your Mommy.

Now I Know.

March 5, 2009

“I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings” by Maya Angelou is one of my favorite books.  I read it as an adult and I empathized with Maya, feeling sadness at her pain and confusion but I never really knew the depths of her pain and grief that would cause her to stop speaking.  Now I do.

These past couple of weeks I have found myself slipping into solitude and quietness.  I don’t blog as much, I don’t email people back right away, I don’t call people to chat.  Katie (http://lrcyoga.wordpress.com/) sent me an email which kind of forced me to get out of my own head and share what’s going on with me and I am grateful for that.

When I wrote the post about going to see my MIL and my SIL and her perfect 3 children, I realized that it’s not that I don’t want to see them, in fact, I really don’t care either way.  Honestly, it’s fine.  That’s not what’s bothering me.  It’s the trip.  One year ago, Hubby and I were speeding towards PA in hopes that our unborn sons would be okay.  We soon recieved the news that Baby A was dying.  He died on March 10th.  I feel like no one remembers this.  No one remembers him.  From what I read, this is pretty typical of someone who has lost a child (or two) and so I understand that this is a normal reaction to grief.  It’s just that this trip to PA is serving as a constant reminder of what I was doing last year, of how I was feeling, of the bargains that I was making, the begging I did, the compromise I made.  I’m slipping back into a dark place and I don’t know what to do.

It’s also serving as a reminder that I am still in so much pain.  There is so much pain that it wells up at night and I wake up crying.  I don’t feel any better than I did a year ago and there is no wonderful numbing shock to dull the intensity.  I thought I would feel better by now.  I can’t even talk about this normally without falling to pieces.  I still feel so bad.

And I have no baby either.  I’m not pregnant and I don’t know when I will be and that’s compounding these feelings of loss.

So I get it, now I know what would make someone hurt so bad that they would stop speaking.

Today is our appointment with the RE.  I had hoped that I would be able to walk in and say, “oh by the way, can you do an HCG test on me, my period is 6 days late, my boobs are sore and heavy and I have intermittent cramping – basically, I think I am pregnant.”  Well, those symptoms went away on Saturday and I got my period Sunday morning.  I’m guessing another chemical pregnancy but since I was too scared to take a test, I don’t know.  Besides, chemical pregnancies don’t usually generate enough HCG to trip a test anyway.  The other option is that my body is just now recovering from the miscarriage to have a period and the “symptoms” were something else but I am getting pretty good at knowing when I am pregnant.

So because of that, I’m a little down plus the fact that I feel like this appointment today isn’t going to tell me anything that I don’t already know.  I am predicting that the RE will say, “your repetitive pregnancy losses are due to the genetic issue and all you can do is keep trying and suffer through the continued miscarriages.”  Not anything I don’t already know and think about all the time.  I mean, is it worse to get pregnant and lose them or never get pregnant?  I don’t know but I keep trying to remind myself of the law of averages – that eventually the statistics will swing in my favor and that the boys were fine, they didn’t have the genetic issue but died from something else completely unrelated and unpredictable.  It happened once, it will happen again.

Do I let this doctor do a bunch of tests on me to rule out other possible issues when this genetic issue is staring right at me?  Hubby thinks it’s a little weird that a fertilized egg bounces around in there for a couple of days and then just doesn’t implant.  We have had at least 3 chemical pregnancies (2 we know of for sure because the doctor did blood work and the HCG level was over 5 but never got to 50 before I started bleeding).  A bum egg or genetically not viable egg would just bounce around and then disintegrate though.  Hard to say.  Dr. T recommended a Hysterosalpingogram or HSG.  I know some of you who read this blog have had one but for the unfamiliar it’s an x-ray where they shoot dye into the uterus and watch it come out the tubes.  If there is blockage in the tubes, the dye doesn’t come out.  I don’t think I have blockage – my eggs are all dressed up in their favorite dresses and heels, going out and hitting the bar and getting picked up by the sperm.  In other words, I get pregnant, I just don’t stay that way.  My best friend from high school is a L and D nurse and she got a list of tests that her friend recently had done.  Again, I will take to the RE about that list with me but if those are tests for unexplained infertility, they aren’t going to help me.  I get pregnant, I just don’t stay that way.

I know that this is an exercise in hope and patience.  I get that, I do.  That doesn’t make me less frustrated or sad that I can’t just have sex with my loving husband, get pregnant with a healthy baby and STAY THAT WAY for 9 months.  Today is Chinese New Year so I thought it was fitting that I wear a new outfit, go see a new doctor and hope for a shiny new baby.  We shall see.