Period Watch 2009 – Bear vs. Panda

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.

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.

It’s Not About Me…

This isn’t a post about me or maybe it is…

Someone I care about very much has been diagnosed with bi-polar disorder – we will call him “H” for Husband and her “W” for Wife.  It’s been a hard road for this family to get to where they are right now.  Both H and W have been down a road with lots and lots of obstacles – some seemingly insurmountable and unsurvivable but still, they have endured.  H finally will get the help that he needs.  I’m so proud of the way they have handled things – especially W, she has a grace and presence of mind that awes me daily.

So why am I writing about this on my blog?  One, because I love them and two, because it’s a reminder to me that I need people in my life who support me and I want to have people who I can support back.  Sometimes I feel like I have taken more than I have given in the last year.  I know that’s “allowed,” I know that’s okay given the circumstances but I’ve never been that person before…someone so needy, where it’s all about me…I guess it’s a little glimmer that I’m getting back a little of the me that isn’t heartbroken, lost and hurt.  I know she’s in here somewhere, she just has a hard time swimming to the surface…

There is a song by 3 Doors Down called, “Let Me Be Myself” and while whole the song speaks to me, two lines really explain how I feel lately:

 “I’ll never see the light of day living in this cell.” 

“It’s time to make my way back into the world I knew.”

Maybe that’s where H is right now – making his way back.

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…

A Lesson in Not Being Bratty

First of all, the hysterolaproscopy on Friday went well.  There was a small polyp that basically fell off when Dr. S touched it with the scissors and a little “something” – might have been scar tissue, could have been mucus.  Dr. S zapped it and it’s gone.  Not a bad procedure in terms of recovery although the nurse blew 2 veins trying to get the IV in…it happens to me a lot, it’s not the nurse’s fault but god, my hand hurts and looks like hell – lovely shades of purple and green…

So I have been a little bratty lately.  I’ve had a bad case of the “why mes?” and the “whoa is mes!” (no idea how to punctuate that…) and what’s worse, I have adopted an attitude of “it’s okay for me to behave like this, I deserve it!”  That’s not okay.  For example, on Thursday, I totally blew it with Hubby.  He was trying to be nice, taking me out to dinner to relax me before the surgery and I came home in an awful mood.  Just horrible.  I behaved badly to the one person in the world who means the most to me and I hate that.  It makes me feel so, so terrible.  I fear at some point, he will just give up on me. 

Also, I wrote my post about the boys anniversary coming up, thinking that I was all alone in my grief and loss – that no one would remember or care.  Several people have remembered that tomorrow is when I lost Baby A.  Kelly gave me a lovely keepsake, the only thing I actually have that commemorates them.  Cousin Jenn-Jenn told me she knows that the next month is going to be hard for me and that she’s here when I need her.  Gretchen and Kelly are going to lunch with me tomorrow….Also, I placed blame on Hubby about going to PA this weekend.  I didn’t make myself clear, I’m going to go and it’s fine but it stirs up anxiety and painful memories and while I should have stood up for myself and articulated my concerns rather than just let it fester, I still want to go.  I need to go.  I need to get moving forward.

I guess my point is, I wallow a bit and fail to recognize that I have a wonderful husband and great friends and family.  I know that and I love everyone so much for caring for me.  It’s hard for me not to think about the boys right now.  I can’t just not think about it but I don’t have to dwell and I don’t have to be a raging bitch.

I do think I have to get back on the anti-depressants and I do think I need to stand up for myself when I don’t feel good and I don’t want to face something.

No one teaches lessons in how to grieve.  No one told me how to behave or what to expect.  Everything I have learned, I have learned from other people’s blogs.  The books are written by “experts” who have likely gone to school a long time but never experienced a loss like this or they turn to religion (which doesn’t work for me, I’m an atheist).  I didn’t think it would still hurt this bad, I didn’t think my nursery would still be empty, and I didn’t think my uterus would still be empty.  That’s all really hard for me to handle right now.  However, I could be handling this better than I am. 

All I can do is try and be better at getting better and hope that the people who love me and care for me will stick this out with me but I am going to promise to learn a little bit of grace.  That’s my goal for the next month.  More grace, less anger.

Wish me luck.

One of Those Days….

I go through these phases where I accept the fact that I have been labeled “RPL” (recurrent pregnancy loss – I need to write a whole blog on how a label is extremely damaging to an already tired, grieving and frustrated woman).  I understand that eventually, I will have a baby but that I will likely miscarry a good number more times before getting that healthy baby gets here.  I sort of just figure, this is the way it’s going to be and while I can shake my fists at the universe and ponder why some people get pregnancy standing up wind from their husband and have little or no compassion for anyone other than themselves (if you read my blog regularly, you know of whom I speak), it’s not going to accomplish anything.  We just keep timing sex each month and waiting for the next positive result and hopefully it sticks.

And then there are the days that I just get pissed and I do shake my fists at the universe and scream, “Why me?  Why me?  WHY ME?”  Today I am pissed.  I woke up pissed.  I’m sullen and angry.

But that’s okay because I am allowed to be angry and mad today because tomorrow, I won’t be.  Or maybe I will be.  Who knows.  Part of this whole experience, for me, has been not being tied to one single emotion all the time and knowing that is okay.  I just have to ride it out.

On another note, here is a great blog about announcing pregnancies and I think it’s good for everyone to read.  I was guilty of this with the boys.  I just told everyone regardless of what happened in their past (in my defense, I didn’t know that some of my friends had lost babies – part of that culture of silence and shame that surrounds miscarriages and hopefully, blogging has taken away) and for that I am sorry.  Trust me, I’ve been schooled. 

http://staceysthoughtsoninfertility.blogspot.com/2009/01/announcements-part-one.html

My friend Deb, who had losses before I was pregnant with the boys, called me and told me over the phone (we live 3,000 miles apart).  I was grateful for her directness and honesty and not letting me find out another way.  I was able to talk with her about her fears and concerns and it made me more aware when I got pregnant again.  Another friend has yet to tell me that they are pregnant but I know because they have a Facebook page.  It’s more painful to me to learn that way – it makes me think you can’t trust me and my reactions.  I know that you don’t want to hurt me but guess what?  I got hurt in April when I lost the boys, you had/have no control over that.  I will be happy for you but I will be sad for what I have lost.  There is nothing you can do about that and your deception only makes it worse.  It makes my loss about you instead of just your joy being about you. 

That being said, all in all, I’m doing okay even being sullen and angry.

Proactive Me.

Went to the doctor yesterday for the “annual” exam.  I joke that I’m like a smoke detector, I need to be checked out around New Year’s because otherwise I forget and the house might burn down.  The lady parts are fine.  We have been referred to an RE for additional testing.  I think it’s a waste of time because the source of our miscarriages is the translocated chromosome but can’t hurt to rule out other things too, right?  I have embraced the fact that while 2/3 of my pregnancies will fail, 1/3 will not.  I have had 3 pregnancies, 2 have failed and 1 has not (for the genetic issue anyway).  I’m basically back to the beginning.  New year, new slate, new pregnancies.

And we see a therapist on Friday afternoon.

And the diet started Monday.  I need to lose the remaining 15 pounds that is leftover from the twins.  I have had this attitude of “oh well, it won’t matter because I will be pregnant again soon and then I can be as fat and unhealthy as I want to be.”  Wrong.  My blood pressure was 139/78 yesterday.  My blood pressure is never over 118/68.  Could have been the argument with Hubby the night before, the fact that I didn’t sleep well, that going to UNC makes me anxious in general or that I took some Benedryl to help me sleep but I wasn’t pleased with the number I saw when I stepped on the scale either.  Hanging on to the weight is not going to make it any easier to conceive and while getting pregnant isn’t the issue, why make it the issue, you know?  I lost 15 pounds right before I got pregnant with the twins and I loved the way I looked.

I have developed some bad habits over the past month or so.  I could chalk it up to the holidays but I have been drinking a hot chocolate from Starbucks just about 4 times a week, skipping the gym, eating meat, and snacking on candy and cookies with regularity.  I found out yesterday that those hot chocolates I love from Starbucks (the Signature Hazlenut Hot Chocolate is my favorite), despite being made with non-fat milk – has 650 calories.  That’s right, 650 calories.  A simple switch to a non-fat, sugar-free vanilla latte (decaf, of course!) is a savings of 450 calories right there! 

So cutting back on calories, no more meat, lots of veggies, back to swimming 3 times a week and Kelly has offered to go to yoga on Wednesday nights instead of mid-day (remember? I can’t deal with the pregnant yoga teacher so I just stopped going) is the plan.  Yoga and swimming will make me feel better and losing weight will boost my self-esteem.

So moving ahead trying to get me back.

Hell, I sound almost normal, don’t I?

Nahhhhhhhh.

Maybe We Jumped the Gun….

So last night, Hubby admitted that he thinks we made a mistake in trying again this month so soon after the miscarriage.  He is frustrated and stressed and it’s making him angry all the time.  He then thinks that I am going to blame him if we don’t get pregnant this month or think that a month off is wasted time.  Then he gets angry when I tell him that the only person I blame is me – it’s my genetic issue that is the cause of all of our problems.  He is trying so hard to take care of me that I think he has forgotten how to take care of himself.  He also thinks that all our future happiness depends on having a baby – that I can’t be happy ever again unless we have a child.  He is wrong.  I’m to the point now where my happiness is a day by day thing – my whole existence is not clouded by the death of the twins like it was 6 months ago.  I cried over the miscarriage but was also relieved to have been pregnant again.  I’m happiest when he and I spend time together, when we go to the zoo, to the movies, to the park.  When we read together or nap.  I am happy then.  I can’t really think in terms of a “global” happiness.  Maybe that’s depression talking.  I don’t know.  I know haven’t been the most emotional stable individual the past couple of months but have felt like I was moving forward – getting better.  I have good days and bad days but the good ones are starting to out number the bad.

And maybe it’s hubby’s turn to meltdown and I need to be the cheerleader like he has been for me the last couple of months.  I’m fine to do that but I just don’t want him to give up on having a baby.

The thing is, I am hopeful that we will get pregnant (and stay that way) this year.  I really am.  I have my bad days where I cry because I miss the boys or because I am thinking about what might have been but I started this year hopeful.  Something that I need hubby to understand – and I don’t think he does – as much as this year has sucked big time, it’s only been a year.  We have had 3 pregnancies in a year.  Eventually the law of averages will work in our favor – it did once with the boys – they didn’t have the translocated chromosome and it will happen again.  See?  That’s hope.

We decided last night that we are going to take next month off and relax and then start again new, with a fresh prespective.  We are also going to get a referral for counseling along with the referral for the RE.

Everything is a Memory

They are everywhere, bombarding me from all directions.  Memories of this time last year when I was newly pregnant.  I was innocent and thrilled, excited and a little scared.  Now, all I can think about is that this would have been their first Christmas.  I should be out buying little presents and toys and making plans for to have their pictures taken but no, not this year.  Not ever.  They are gone forever.

And I miss them so much I can’t stand to have my eyes open.  I have cried so hard the last 3 days that my eyelashes are starting to fall out again.  I think my pain is showing because people keep asking me if I am okay.

No, I am not okay.  I don’t care about anything anymore.

I want to sleep through December and hope that next year will be better.

Survived Thanksgiving

Since this blog is all about my ability to survive things that have happened this past year (blah), I thought I would let you all know that yes, indeed, I survived Thanksgiving with my family.  Hubby and I left Thursday morning instead of Wednesday night mainly because the traffic out of Raleigh towards the beach is BAD on the Wednesday before turkey day – last year it was awful trying to get to the ‘Boro (Swansboro for those of you not in the “know”) – a 2 and 1/2 hour trip took us nearly 4 hours last year….no, not happening.

Got to the ‘Boro, hung with Mom who managed to not say anything inappropriate or mean to me (she did call Hubby “shit for brains” or something close, I didn’t actually hear all of what she said), and we headed over to the family’s house for dinner.  We ate, drank, played board games, went home, went to bed and were back in Holly Springs by 3:30 on Friday afternoon.  I call it “Tag Team Turkey Day” – get in, get out, get it over with.

It was awesome.

Spent the rest of the weekend in my jammies, cleaning house, making our own turkey, destroying stuffing (don’t ask), shopping online, sleeping until noon (for some reason I am super-duper tired, my stomach is sick and I’m hot all the time – probably food poisoning or early menopause) and going to see “Twilight” (you will be sadly disappointed).

Only cried twice and no one asked me what I am “thankful” for this year.

I survived.

Now, just to get through Christmas……..