The Room

It’s there.  In the house.  The room that was to be the boys’ room.  It’s filled with baby boy clothes, toys, a crib, a car seat, broken dreams, dashed hopes, lots of sadness.  I haven’t set foot in that room since we moved in.  The crib was never set up in there, the decorations never hung on the wall, the walls never painted.  I can’t even tell you what the closet looks like in there – the last time I saw it, I was pregnant and we didn’t own the house and now, I can’t really remember life before April 8th. 

I walk past the door about 14 times a day and I think, “I’m never going to get in that room.”  I lay in bed at night and I can see the door from where I lay and I think, “I’m never going to get up in the middle of the night, pad across the hall, scoop up my crying baby and rock him back to sleep.  It’s never going to happen for me.”  I lay there, not sleeping, staring at the door.

This is my life now.  Trying to live with my disappointment.  Trying to survive this loss.  I thought I was doing okay but really, these last few weeks…I’m not.  I’m not okay.  I want so badly to look at the people around me and say, “help me.  Please, help me.  I’m hurt and I can’t go to the doctor to fix it because it’s deep down inside….they won’t know what to do for me…Someone please just take me in your arms and hold me, let me cry…”  I have conversations with people about the weather, books, shopping, whatever but my eyes are searching their faces, begging, “please, ask me how I am…ask me about them…ask me if I’m okay….but only if your prepared for the answer…I can’t freely give this information if you don’t mean it when you ask the question, if you are not prepared for the answer then don’t ask…”

But I don’t.  I’m supposed to be better.  I’m supposed to be moving forward.  The people around me, they have lives, they can’t be taking care of me.  I have to take care of myself and Hubby.  I’ve always taken care of myself.  Always.  I have to be strong, I can’t fall apart again.

I want to get into that room…I want a baby to hold and cuddle and love who will live in that room but I fear that will never happen.  I want my boys and I KNOW that won’t happen.

 

Thoughts….

Day 39 of my cycle and no period and 2 negative HPTs.  I got all excited because I was queasy and my breasts hurt (still do actually) and I’m tired…damn universe, she’s such a bitch.  I’ve never gone this long without a period (except when I was pregnant).  My guess is that I didn’t ovulate last month because of the flu.  I had the flu the same time I should have ovulated and I thought that I didn’t get a positive OPK because I tested too late (because I was sick with the flu).  It is what it is, right?

I didn’t get invited to a baby shower and it really hurt my feelings.  I wouldn’t go – actually, my best friend is coming into town and I couldn’t go – but that doesn’t mean I don’t want the invite.  I think, because this was an accidental pregnancy, the person thinks I’m judging her.  I’m not.  I don’t have the energy to judge.  It just hurt my feelings.

Also, Hubby’s cousin is pregnant and everyone thought it best to hide it from me until there was no possible way of hiding it from me any longer as she showed up at his mother’s house when we were there this past weekend.  Thing is, I already knew.  I had known for a while.  Facebook does not hide secrets well.  But what if I hadn’t known?  They would have just sprung it on me 5 minutes before she showed up?  That doesn’t seem fair.  I just want people to be honest with me and let me deal with the situation.  Anyway, it hurt me more than I can explain to them so I didn’t.  It made the visit with L more awkward then it needed to be because L didn’t know that I previously knew she was pregnant so she’s holding pillow over her stomach trying to hide it.  Finally, I said something about her being pregnant and she was more open about it.  She wouldn’t even get up to hug me.  I cried all night because I hate the idea that his family thinks I’m too crazy to deal with L and her pregnancy.  Thing is, L is probably one of my favorite people in Hubby’s family.  She’s the most similar to us in our views – both political and religious and when I was there getting ready to go to CHOP, she was really comforting and kind.  Everytime we visit she makes an effort to stop by and see us.  The whole situation just made me feel alone and isolated and really uncomfortable despite the fact that I know the family was only trying to spare my feelings.  How do I explain that?  I’m open to suggestions.  Do I say anything or just let it go?  I feel like such a leper anyway because his family never asks me about how I’m feeling or how things are going for us.  I guess they are afraid of the answer.  This, coupled with the lack of invite to the baby shower, made me feel even worse.

Finally, I’ve spent every minute of every day since we went to the adoption information session trying to figure out how to come up with the money we need.  I’m at a loss.  I told Hubby I wanted to wait until January to try and work something out but I can’t stop thinking about it.  I just don’t know if we can get anyone to cosign on a loan for us – if we can even get a loan. 

As a result of all of this…in my head, there is a constant voice on a continuous loop that keeps saying, “let it go, it’s over, there is no way you are going to have another baby, just let it go, the boys were it, just let it go and move on.”

God, I’m tired.

Neverending Grief

So last nights’ “Grey’s Anatomy” was all about grief.  One of the main characters, “George,” ended last season by getting hit by a bus and was unrecognizable until minutes before the finale ended.  The premiere showed “McDreamy” unable to repair the damage to George’s brain and the decision is made to call his mother and find out if he is an organ donor.  The hospital is collectively devastated.

The voice over talks about the 5 stages of grief, which I think all of us lost baby parents can agree, doesn’t occur in stages but waves, each one overlapping the other at various times and intervals.  I’ve accepted and bargained, felt guilty and angry, hell, I’ve even denied it happened (then of course, I wake up).  Each character was supposed to represent the various stages of grief.

But the phrase that resonated most with me was something that the character “Meredith” said.  She said:

“The minute you think you’re over it, it starts all over again.”

That’s where I’m at.  I went to the bathroom at work yesterday and sat in the stall and cried.  I hadn’t done that in months – cried at work.  I’m even out of practice.  Used to be, I could cry looking down, with my head in a horizontal position and not ruin my eye makeup…yesterday, mascara was all smeared.  I’m still so mad, still so sad, still so angry.  I want to scream as loud as I can, “what did I do to deserve the death of my little boys?!!??  What?!!?  Why did this happen to me?!!?”  After 18 months, just when I think I’m okay, the grief starts in again.  Nothing new has happened, it’s still the same loss, I’m still the same me I was after the boys died.  Why am I not getting any better?

The difference between me and the characters of “Grey’s Anatomy” is, the accident wasn’t real, their friend didn’t really die, they get to yell “CUT!” and it’s over.  I don’t.  There is no “CUT!” for me.  This is going to be my life forever.  I’m going to always grieve, the boys will always have died, this is my life.

I’m overwhelmed by that fact.

Cloudy With a Chance of Rain…

Weather always effects my mood…cloudy and dark makes me sad and sullen.  It’s the depression, I’m sure.

My insurance coverage changed in August.  I knew my employer had to make some adjustments to continue to be able to afford to cover us but I had no idea that it would effect the mental health coverage in the policy.  That’s right gang, no more therapy unless we want to pay for it and with Hubby being laid off, it’s not in the budget.  We might try and do 2 sessions a month once we get a little more “in the black” but right now, it’s not going to work out.  Nothing I can do about it except hope for health care reform that will include a mental health option.  So I’m sullen and depressed with no outlet…yeah.

We have to give up our boot camp sessions too.  We’ve been going 3 times a week for the last 5 months and it’s been great.  I haven’t really lost weight but I’ve toned up a lot.  I’m feeling confident that I can continue to work out on my own.  I have hand weights, a jump rope and 3 dogs who love to go for long and fast walks….I just need to make myself accountable to get up every other morning and go.  We just can’t afford to spent the money anymore.

Which brings me to a realization I had yesterday.  I think I’ve gone “soft.”  I used to not have the luxury of therapy and trainers and ready-made food and fancy coffee.  Since our income increased several years ago, I’ve gotten accustomed to “the good life” – which, don’t get me wrong, I enjoy but I’ve lost my ability to survive.  Part of that has to do with losing the boys – I’ve lost my will to survive, not just the ability to do so.  I think, at some point, I just decided I would float along until I got pregnant again – maybe in the hopes that would make “it” all okay and give me more of a sense of purpose.  I don’t know.  Until a couple of days ago, I was feeling good.  I felt confident that we would be having another baby soon.  I was hopeful, I was almost cheerful, even slightly happy.  But that happiness, like my pregnancies, seemed to end as quickly as it started.  I’m filled with doubt – have I ovulated yet, did we “do it” enough, is this “our month.”  So much doubt and fear and sadness…almost overwhelming…

Maybe I just need to sack up, stop feeling sorry for myself, stop feeling bad about myself and focus on the good things in life, things I want to accomplish.  It’s so hard to do though.  I know you other lost baby mamas and daddas understand this.  It all comes back to that one phrase…”I’m sorry, I’m not seeing a heartbeat.”  It resonates with me constantly.  It effects everything I do.

Looks like a 90% chance of rain today.

The Joy of….

I recently wrote to someone that I have lost my joy.  The joy I used to have for life is gone and I don’t know how to get it back.  I have brief moments of happiness but other than that, I am an emotional wasteland of pain, anger, jealousy, rage, fear, and disappointment.  I have things that I am very grateful for (like Hubby, doggies, and my wonderful friends – both physical and bloggy) but that’s not the same as joy.  I feel like a candle whose light has been snuffed out and can’t be relit.

I sobbed last night in therapy, begging the therapist and Hubby to tell me what to do to feel better, to not hurt, to get my joy back, to have some peace.  I will do anything, just tell me what to do, I said.  We talked a lot about negative and irrational self-talk aka the mean, nasty voices that I hear telling me that the boys were it, I get no other children, I’m broken and defective – you know, the good stuff.  I’m supposed to counter that with “a dispute.”  So if my head tells me, “You are never going to have another child,” I’m supposed to dispute that with, “I will have another child.”  I’ll try it.

The therapist really latched on to the idea of adoption.  She ran with that idea, offering to help us find resources and contacts and then she alluded to the fact that she didn’t think I was emotionally capable of conceiving and carrying a child in my present state and that we might need to take a break while exploring adoption.  That really hurt.  Prehaps it’s true but it still hurt.  I sort of shutdown at that point.  I’m not willing to give up the idea of getting pregnant and carrying a child right now.  Hubby and I agreed to keep trying while exploring the possiblity of adoption.  Her comment sort of overshadowed any excitement that I was feeling for making the decision to try to adopt and left me feeling sad and hurt (thus, possibly, proving her point that I am an emotionally fragile mess that needs electro-shock therapy). 

Along those same lines and possibly providing more evidence for Therapist’s theory, was the fact that I got a message last night from IAC (Independent Adoption Centers) that the information session we signed up for was full.  It wasn’t full when I signed up for it 5 days ago on their website but it is now.  Yeah, no idea how that works.  We are on the wait list for that session and signed up for the October 3rd session.  I was so upset and disappointed that I had to have Hubby return the call out of fear that my anger and snippiness towards the “keeper of the babies” would harm our chances of sitting down with these people.  Again, probably not the rational response the rest of the world would have but I’m starting to understand that not much of what goes on in my head these days is rational.

I’m an irrational, joyless, emotionally fragile lostbabymama and at this point, I think we can safely say, I’m not even surviving anymore….I’m in real trouble, aren’t I?

Lost

I really do feel like I’m losing it.  I’m angry and sad and frustrated and I cry a lot.  “Sounds like depression,” you say, and I would agree with you if I wasn’t being medicated for depression already and seeing a therapist.  I mean who has lists of baby names in their head but no baby yet?  Who has visions of having twins again, knowing the likelihood of it happening again is slim?  Who dreams of babies who are long, long gone?  I’m going crazy, aren’t I?

As much as I don’t want to admit it, I put a lot of hope and faith in the Clomid and twice now, it’s not worked.  I feel like we did everything right and it didn’t work.  We probably did do everything right.  I know that you can do everything right every month and it still won’t happen right away (unless you are any number of my friends and my sister in law and then, rest assured, you will get pregnant within minutes of deciding you want to be…do I sound bitter?  That’s because I am and I don’t care…).  We have one more month of Clomid and my understanding is that it’s magical powers will stay in my system for up to 60 days.  After that, I don’t think I want anymore.  The side effects suck and I still have no baby(ies)…I can have no baby(ies) and not feel physically like crap sans Clomid, thank you very much.

I’m tired of whining and crying, I’m tired of friends having to pick up the pieces, I’m tired of all of you having to be my cheerleaders…I know that I need to get over this, I keep telling myself that but I just don’t know what to do to feel better…

I’m truly feeling lost….

Balanced Translocation: 1, Clomid: 0

So AF isn’t here but I’m not pregnant either (according to the very expense digital test that Hubby loving brought home last night). Day 34 and nada. I have no idea why I am taking it so hard this month. I cried on the way to fitness bootcamp (oh yes, fitness bootcamp. I’m fat and I hate the way I look. I didn’t get to breast feed away the 30 pounds I gained with the boys and depression, not such a motivator to “get up and go.” ), I cried on the way from fitness bootcamp to work, I cried in the shower at work, I cried getting ready in the bathroom. I finally stopped crying long enough to eat my diet waffles. Everyone in the office thinks I have allergies. I’m just hoping that my eyelashes don’t fall out again. I already feel bad enough about the way I look, I don’t need to have two hairless pink lizards for eyelids.

And what the F is up with my cycles. Before the Boys, my cycle was a perfect 28 days, ovulating on the day 14.  Before, you could set a Mayan fertility clock by my cycle. Now, sometimes it’s 28 days, sometimes it’s 30 days and right now, it’s 34 days so far. I’m not pregnant but no period, that just doesn’t seem fair. At what point to I call the doctor?

So I didn’t get my win this month and I am trying really hard not to feel so hopeless. I’ve told myself that I am going to allow myself to feel bad today and then start over again tomorrow. Two more months of Clomid to get pregnant and carry a baby to term. Hubby and I agreed that we will re-evaluate things after that. That doesn’t mean that we are giving up. I know that Hubby isn’t ready to give up so I am going to hang in there for as long as he is. I told him last night that it’s not going to be sunshine and roses every month. It’s not fair for anyone to expect me to bounce back after repeated losses with the optimism of an un-neutered Golden Retriever. That’s not going to happen. But I’m not giving up until we both agree.

By re-evaluate, I mean that we may need to go someplace else with my bum genes. I keep getting the impression that the folks at UNC, as nice as they are, they really don’t have any experience with people with RBT. I want a doctor who says, “okay, so we can’t do IVF with the PGD so let’s try this!” I need someone else besides Hubby and I to fight for us when we are just to tired too fight.

I’m At A Loss…

Ha!  Get it?  “I’m at a loss” and I also suffer from recurrent pregnancy loss…that was funny.  Okay, not really.  Not a whole lot funny about this right now.  Or ever.

I just don’t know what to do anymore.  I had a little mini-breakdown on Saturday while Hubby was at karate.  I don’t feel like I’m pregnant this month and we all know, I’m pretty good at figuring out when I am pregnant (although, honestly, the more I think about it, the more I don’t remember having ANY symptoms with the boys other than PMS cramping and a positive test and in December, I had no symptoms initially until after the test…ummmmm, starting to wonder….).   I know Hubby was so convinced that the Clomid was going to be successful this month and I hate that I am going to have to tell him that it didn’t work this time.  Maybe next month.  That’s that the motto of our house, “maybe next month.”

I’m committed to the next two rounds of Clomid.  After that, honestly, I don’t know.  Maybe Hubby and I need to discuss other options.  What?  I have no idea.  We don’t have any of the money necessary for adoption or egg donation.  I’m don’t want to say it but we may need to accept that our life together will be childless.  It’s painful to say that but I just don’t know what else to do.  I’m not giving up but can’t keep getting my hopes up every month only to have them dashed or worse, get pregnant and have it end.  Plus, I’m starting to question whether I want to pass this along to my children.  Maybe this needs to end with me.  Maybe I am giving up.  I can’t make the decision for both of us but I just wonder, how success can we be if my heart is just not in it anymore?  Maybe the boys were it.  Maybe I’m just tired.  Maybe I need a break.

Maybe I just need a fucking win.

Support

I just can’t seem to get it together today.  I’m very weepy and it’s really annoying me. 

I found an online support group for people with the genetic issue (Balanced Translocation) that I have.  It’s nice because infertility support groups focus on people who can’t get pregnant.  While, I’m sure that’s maddening and frustrating and angering, that’s not me.  I get pregnant.  A lot.  Five times in the last year not including the boys.  And I miscarry.  A lot.  And so do these women.  I can’t say which is worse.  I don’t know.  Which would you chose?  Never, ever being pregnant or knowing that you are pregnant and waiting for it to end for the 5th time in a year?  I can’t walk in those shoes, I can only walk in the ones I have but I am here to tell you, this sucks.  I’m tired, I’m angry, I feel old, I feel hopeless.  And as a bonus, I’m so good at knowing that I’m pregnant, I don’t need a stupid test to tell me.  I’m the blood hound of knowing when I am pregnant.  Hence, not only do I know when I am but I know when I’m not anymore.  It’s a hard life to live right now and I am feeling really sorry for myself.

I am hoping this group will help a little bit because there are success stories.  One woman reminded me again today, “keep trying and it will eventually happen.”  It’s “eventually” that’s hard on me.

Also, I learned that the drug discussion that Hubby and I had with Dr. S. wasn’t so crazy.  As a reminder, Dr. S doesn’t want to give us fertility drugs because we are fertile but Hubby and I thought that if the drugs increase the number of eggs, wouldn’t that increase the possibility of viable ones (ones that don’t have the translocation or are balanced and therefore, able to sustain)?  Dr. S is reluctant to give a drug I don’t really need.  However, several people in the group have done this and they have been successful…

I’ll stick it out one more month without drugs but then we are having the conversation with Dr. S.  And if she isn’t up for it, I’ll head over to Duke.  UNC is chocked full of bad memories for me anyway…

Now I Know.

“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.