Well that hurdle's overcome. On to the ultrasounds.....
Beta Hcg 1,150 -> 6,180! More than quadrupled in 96 hours!
Well that hurdle's overcome. On to the ultrasounds.....
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I know it's been quiet here. The truth is, I have written several posts in the past couple weeks but been unable to finish them or find some sort of theme to my thoughts. They all just ended up being random streams of consciousness with no real end point, so I just ended up deleting them. But I realized today that I'm having a hard time writing how I feel because I'm not even sure how I feel right now. It changes on a moment-to-moment basis. My thought process has been changing so frequently lately that it's hard to get it all in one, coherent post. I'm thinking I must be in an "in between" stage where I'm not really 100% anything. So I'm going to create a list of different emotions/feelings I've been having lately: (1) Stressed. A few weeks ago a couple of big things happened at work and I suddenly was thrown a curve ball that has basically tripled my workload. The good thing is, this leaves me with little time to stress about trying to conceive. I used to be constantly sneaking looks at my chart and obsessing over when I'll ovulate or if this will be our month. I barely have time to go to the bathroom at work anymore. We're definitely still trying, but I'm not obsessing over it all day long. (2) Weirdly calm. The onslaught of added pressure and responsibility would have been enough to reduce me to mush a few months ago. I've actually been surprising myself (and I think some other people, too) with how oddly calm I have been handling everything lately. I'm not sure if I'm getting emotionally stronger or if I'm just becoming numb to extreme stress. (3) Sad. I lost my main support person at work: the friend I was able to go vent and cry to. Even though I probably really freaked him out with how much of a hot mess I was, he was always very understanding and supportive and helped me through the tough months after I came back to work after losing Dominic. At first I thought that losing him would be crippling for me, that I'd be locking myself in bathrooms huddled over the toilet in tears feeling alone. However - as thankful as I am for all that he did for me - he sort of coddled me. By giving me that safe space to be vulnerable in, it almost encouraged me to cry. It did not give me any opportunity to become stronger, because I didn't need to be. Now, with him gone and me on my own, I have to be strong. I have to keep it together at all times. And surprisingly... I am. (4) Frustrated. We are on our 6th cycle of actively trying to conceive, I think it's only natural for me to feel frustrated. Although I am not nearly as frustrated as I was a couple of months ago. I feel like I have a plan. All of our tests so far have come back normal. Logically, there should be no physical reason why we are unable to get pregnant. So really it should just be a matter of time. I still have my appointment with the fertility doctor in September, and I am not feeling the need to rush that. It would be a shame to spend thousands of dollars on fertility treatments if there is actually nothing wrong with me besides impatience. (5) Actually...okay. I realized after reading through the list above that I'm really not struggling too hard with any of them. Everything I wrote, I ended it with how it's actually not all that bad or what the bright side to it was. And it really is the truth. I went out to dinner with some friends the other night, two of which were pregnant, and did not spend the whole time feeling green with envy. I was actually thrilled I could have a few glasses of wine after the long day at work I just had, and was not the least bit envious of my 9-month-pregnant friend across the table who was about to bust out of her scrub pants. Not that I don't wish I was pregnant, of course I do, but for the first time in a long time I could also appreciate the positive side of my own situation. I'm starting to realize that I can enjoy my life the way it is now AND want a baby simultaneously. No one said they have to be mutually exclusive. I'm writing this post for one of 2 reasons, 1. I think it's a funny story and 2. if this turns out to be true, I want to remember what she told me. I just got back from vacation with my husband and some people he works with, and I made the mistake of asking one of them what they do for a living. She replied that she is a "numerologist." I had no idea what this meant so I asked her to explain, and ended up getting my "numbers" read. She explained that she studies astrology and numerology and reads peoples "energies." Apparently Tarot Card reading has a lot to do with numerology. Now I figured if she was any good at this she was probably intrigued by me and the horrible "energy" I'm probably putting off. She took down my name and birthday and disappeared onto the beach for about an hour. I have to admit, I was pretty nervous. It was in this hour that I realized just how afraid of the future I really am. She came back and sat down with me on the beach and told me my future by the numbers. I can't say I believe in this kind of stuff, because I was definitely making fun of all this quackery with the rest of our group when she wasn't around, but some of the things she told me were eerily accurate. She said my overall energy was that of a nurturer - that seemed to ring true enough. Whenever I take personality tests I get "The Nurturer," and it fits with my occupation (I'm a nurse, in case you didn't know). As far as my past - she told me I was a "1" before - an independent child with a lot of drive and determination to succeed. Well I could show you the piles of straight A report cards to prove that one is true. She said a "1" gets very frustrated when important things don't go their way. Ha! Me? Never. She said that the numbers showed a difficult past relationship that changed "my story," and put me onto a new path. Because she was assuming that my husband was my first relationship, she thought she was wrong about that part. Little did she know how eerily right she was. I didn't admit it (best not to let them get too confident), but now she had me hooked. She said something happened 9 years ago that started a new, 9-year phase of my life. Interesting, I met my husband 9 years ago almost exactly. She said these past 9 years were about building my confidence and establishing my career, and that 2009 was a big year of change and success for me. Well, yep, absolutely. My husband spent a great deal of time in the last 9 years helping to rebuild my confidence after the emotional wreck I was after my last relationship (that she didn't know about). I graduated college and got my first job in 2009. She said that this 9 year story was about to end and that I was about to enter a new phase of my life, but that last part of it would be a very difficult time starting from January 2014 and ending between October 2015 and January 2016. She said this time was filled with "Endings and Beginnings," the brunt of which I have already suffered, but that I'm not completely out of it yet. Well damn.... I started trying to get pregnant around January 2014, and have lost 2 babies since. She said the purpose of these "Endings and Beginnings" was a "Soul Lesson" that I needed to learn. Well consider this soul learned. Suffice it to say - whether this woman is a total quackadoodle or not, I do not know. All I'm saying is that she hit the nail right on the head. So now for the good part: the future. She said that I will be starting a new 9-year phase of my life with a new number: 3. She said a "3" is all about creation and creativity - art, music, writing. She said that I will find peace and prosperity in my creativity. Most importantly - she said the "3" is for creating new life, for making babies. If nothing else - this woman gave me a lot of hope. But I have to remember - according to her, I'm not out of it yet. I've got to bide my time. She said she sees children in my future.... well here's hoping. Let me just explain for a second how I actually write posts for this blog. I do not usually write each post on each day that I post it. There are some days where I feel particularly inspired and I will sit down and write 4 or 5 posts in one sitting. I don't post them all that same day, I save them to be posted later. When I first wrote this post, I started with a list of the 5 Stages of Grief and how I'm doing with it. This is what I wrote: The 5 Stages of Grief: Denial: it really happened, I get it Anger: sometimes Bargaining: in vain Depression: a lot of times Acceptance: none in sight That was a few weeks ago. Honestly, that's not entirely true anymore. Here is the updated version for today: The 5 Stages of Grief: Denial: it really happened, I get it Anger: occasionally Bargaining: not really Depression: sometimes Acceptance: getting there The title of this post is sort of misleading. This is not a fool-proof method for accepting the unacceptable. It's more of a question: How do I accept the unacceptable? I really haven't figured it out, yet, but here's what I've got so far: 1. Take all the time you need. I hate when I feel rushed. I hate when I feel like someone is pressuring me to be "over it," because a certain amount of time has gone by. Don't let anyone make you feel this way. Grieve on your own timeline. 2. Vent when you need to, to whomever you need to. Sometimes I confide in my mom, my best friend, my husband, my dogs (they're good listeners). Sometimes I get in my car at the end of a long day and scream as loud as I can (this was a suggestion from my husband, apparently it works for him, it just makes me feel like a crazy person). And I do sometimes vent to whoever just happens to be in front of me at that moment asking me "how I'm doing" in a word-vomit type way. Hey, if you didn't want to know, why did you ask? Venting on this blog is also extremely helpful. 2. Find support wherever you can find it. Your inner circle of friends and family, support groups, a therapist. Whatever works for you. You are not an island unto yourself, you are surrounded by other human beings and at least one of them probably wants to help you. 3. Get a hobby. Find a creative outlet. I've said before that cooking and playing the piano work for me pretty well. In the month after losing Dominic I crocheted like 15 tiny baby blankets to donate to the L&D unit at my hospital. Someone had done so for me, and that's why my tiny baby got a tiny blanket. That little blanket was such a comfort to me in the first few weeks after losing him. It had swaddled him. It had touched his skin. It was proof that he was real. It sits on my nightstand with a few other things that remind me of him. I still pick it up and rub it against my cheek from time to time. I wanted to be able to give someone else the same kind of comfort. But it really could be anything. You could run, paint, draw, garden, learn a new instrument. You could even just pull a Grey's Anatomy and dance it out (what? we've all done it.. don't act like you haven't). Just find some sort of outlet. 4. Acknowledge your emotions. Don't just keep them bottled up, because you will explode eventually and it will not be pretty. This can be accomplished by venting to your support people, through therapy, or through a creative outlet like writing or journaling. Obviously, I chose writing. 5. Try to gain some perspective. Realize that it could always be worse. Even on the day I delivered, there was a woman in the delivery room next door to me who just lost her baby at 24 weeks. This was a sharp reminder that it could always be worse. 6. Be thankful for what you do have. There's got to be something to be thankful for. In my case, I have a wonderful husband, a supportive family, and great friends. I have a good job with an understanding boss and (for the most part) sensitive coworkers. I also have pretty fantastic hair. Just saying. 7. Realize that it won't be this way forever. Think about the things that were problems for you 5 years ago. Are you still dealing with the same problems? I certainly hope not. 5 years ago I desperately wanted to be engaged and was sure it was never going to happen for me. Well that worked itself out, just fine. How about 10 years ago? I was worried about what college to pick, what career to choose, how to get out of the destructive relationship I was stuck in. All of these obstacles are distant memories, now. Try to give yourself solace in the fact that in 5-10 years, this will all just be a distant memory. In the words of Charlie Chaplin, "nothing is permanent in this wicked world, not even our troubles." 8. See what you can learn from this experience. This is a hard one, especially since most of the lessons I have learned from losing Dominic are not lessons I ever wanted to learn in the first place. But I do acknowledge that when/if I ever do become a mother, I'll be a damn good one. I will love the crap out of my kids and be thankful for every single breath they take. And motherhood will never, ever be something I take for granted. 9. Try to choose to be happy. This is the hardest one and I'm still working on it. I have realized that happiness is not just going to fall into my lap, anymore. Before I lost Dominic, I pretty much lived a charmed life and happiness was not something I needed to struggle for. If I am ever going to be truly happy again, it is going to have to be a conscious decision on my part. Some of those are hyperlinks to other blog posts that elaborate on them a little more or are examples of them. So I haven't reached "acceptance," yet, as I know some women on my support boards have. But I am getting closer. Last night was the happiest I have been since probably before I lost Dominic. I am really making an effort to try to choose to be happy. Because, why not? Yes, my baby died and I am not pregnant again yet. But how long am I going to sit here and make myself miserable because of my circumstances? I need to choose happiness... because I deserve to be happy. I've been pretty busy this week and haven't had much time to post, but I thought I'd give an update in case anyone was wondering about my ultrasound results. Turns out my uterus isn't the Temple of Doom I imagined, in fact it's completely "unremarkable," per the ultrasound report. I would have preferred "an exquisite baby-making machine," but whatever.. unremarkable will have to do. Win for me: I'm not completely broken inside.
This post is inspired by one of the women on the online forum I belong to. She wrote a post about optimism a few days ago that really got me thinking. It was very inspiring and she made some excellent points that I think deserve to be shared. After losing a baby, you become a completely different person, and it is difficult to come to terms with that. You miss the person you once were and adjusting to life as this new jaded person is difficult. Optimists may turn into pessimists. Pessimists (like me) can become even more pessimistic. I have always been a pessimist. My husband has even given me the nickname, "Worst-Case Scenario," and this was even before losing Dominic. Since then, it has admittedly gotten much worse. I worry constantly. I worry that something bad will happen to my husband or my dogs. I worry that I will never get pregnant again, and if I do, that I will lose another baby. I have sometimes felt so defeated that I think there is no hope for a future that involves true happiness for me. What is important to remember though, is that I have the power to choose optimism over pessimism. And in coping with grief of this kind, choosing optimism is essential. I am going to try very hard to take this woman's advice on choosing an optimistic view of the future rather than a pessimistic one. Some tools that she listed for attempting to do this are asking yourself "what rational reason do I have to worry" and "what rational reason do I have to hope?" Rationally, I know that I can get pregnant, because it has happened before. Rationally, the odds are in my favor that I will one day have a rainbow baby. If I can learn to remind myself of these things, even when I don't feel optimistic, I can try to choose hope instead of pessimism. As opposed to complaining.. I'm actually going to explain why I really don't mind the two week wait (TWW). I've said before that a lot of my TTC (trying to conceive) friends hate the TWW between ovulating and finding out if you're pregnant or not. The progesterone spike after you ovulate can cause a lot of symptoms that can mimic pregnancy symptoms and the results can be extremely misleading. Women get their hopes up, invent imaginary symptoms, and end up being crushed when Aunt Flow rears her ugly head. I really don't mind the TWW. I've explained before how much more daunting I find the wait to ovulate. Here are my reasons why: 1. Time: my wait to ovulate is always longer than 2 weeks, whereas my wait to find out if I'm pregnant or not is more like 10-13 days. So while I face the wait to O with an uncertainty of how long I'll be stuck there and an insecurity that I might not O at all, I face the TWW with a certainty that this will not last more than 2 weeks, tops. 2. Symptom Spotting: I seem to be pretty spot on when it comes to "feeling pregnant" or not. So there's not too much mystery by the end of it for me. With Dominic, the increased sense of smell started as early as 6DPO (days post-ovulation), although I didn't realize what it was at the time. A general ickiness, fatigue, and increased appetite started at about 10DPO. By 12DPO I was pretty sure I was either pregnant or getting sick. I tested at 13DPO just to make sure it was safe for me to drink that weekend, and sure enough, it was positive. The second time around, the nausea started as early as 6DPO and the fatigue kicked in at 9DPO. I wasn't too discouraged when I got a negative test on 9DPO, because I knew it was still early. My first extremely faint positive test came on 10DPO. Either way, I'm pretty good at rationalizing that a lot of my symptoms could just as easily be caused by progesterone as pregnancy. That way I don't get my hopes up. 3. The lack of stress: some women stress about whether or not they could be pregnant, but I find the TWW so much LESS stressful. All of the stress is in the beginning of the cycle when every day I'm checking my temp, cervix, and ovulation predictor tests. I'm worried that I won't ovulate or that I'll miss it. In my TWW, I know I've already O'ed and I've already done everything I could to try and catch the egg. Now I can just relax and see if it worked or not. The TWW feels like such a more hopeful time for me. The stress of getting everything right is over, and it's just a couple weeks of waiting. But most importantly, in these couple weeks, there is hope. There is potential. I just feel so much more at ease. Now this is not to say that I'm not an obsessive pregnancy test-taker, cause I'm just as bad as the next woman. I've firmly told my husband that I will not start testing until at least 12DPO this cycle. I can guarantee this by not buying any tests until I'm on my way home from work, Friday. I've found out from past experience that if they're in the house... I'll take them. This cycle - I'm 7DPO and not feeling particularly pregnant or un-pregnant. But I know it's too early to give up hope, and if this isn't the cycle... on to the next one. As an adult, there are few hobbies (besides binge-watching Netflix) that I actually find enjoyable. When I was younger, I enjoyed playing sports. I've played in a few adult softball and field hockey leagues, but the physical pain in my bad knee usually ends up overshadowing any level of fun to be had. I also used to like drawing, especially when I was sad. But ain't nobody got time for that. Okay.. I could probably make the time, but I don't really have the patience for it anymore. Another favorite pastime was playing the piano, especially when I was feeling rather emo. My piano was my main coping mechanism through a very difficult time in my life when I was stuck in an emotionally abusive relationship. But alas, when I moved out, my parents unceremoniously gave my piano away. Really, there's just no way to get a piano up the staircase in my house. A few people have tried to get me to settle for a keyboard, but I really just don't like the feel of them. Not that I'm a piano snob who needs a baby grand, my piano was a used bar piano and I loved it. It really does suck that I've been trying to cope with the worst thing I've ever had to go through in my entire life without having touched a piano in almost 3 years. Anyway... back to my point. I had one, I promise. The one thing I really do enjoy anymore is cooking. I realize that if I were to make some bold move and quit my job and try to become a chef that I would inevitably end up hating cooking, too. So I'm just going to keep it a hobby. When I got married two and a half years ago I could pretty much only make chicken cutlets and tacos. I remember my husband voicing his concerns that I wouldn't learn how to cook but I always tried to reassure him that I would teach myself. Thanks to Pinterest, I've gotten pretty damn good at it. At the urging of my husband and with some inspiration from Julia Child (whom if you've ever seen the movie "Julie & Julia," you know suffered from infertility, turned her life around, and became one of the most famous chefs who ever lived), I've made the decision to try and post some of my favorite recipes I've learned to make. Just to clarify from the get-go, I'm not trying to "steal" or copy anyone else's recipes. I'm trying to pay homage to them by sharing them and putting my own little twist on them. I promise to give credit wherever it is due. Some people look for solace in scripture. Some people search for wisdom in the words of ancient philosophers. Me... I trust Taylor Swift. "And it's a sad picture, the final blow hits you. Somebody else gets what you wanted again... You can walk away, say we don't need this, But there's something in your eyes says we can beat this. Because theses things will change, can you feel it now? These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down. It's a revolution - the time will come for us to finally win. And we'll sing hallelujah, we'll sing hallelujah. Tonight we'll stand, get off our knees Fight for what we've worked for all these years And the battle was long, it's the fight of our lives But we'll stand up champions tonight." I'd like to think I have this uncanny ability to apply any song to whatever I'm going through in my life at that particular moment, but I think music just has the ability to speak to everyone. Trying to have a baby has absolutely been the fight of our lives, and we've been working towards it for years. I really hope the time will come for us to finally win. The thought that things will not be this way forever is honestly the only comforting thought I can tell myself anymore. I used to have a post-it on my bathroom mirror that said "I will get my rainbow baby," but I don't necessarily believe that anymore. The only thing I can believe is that things cannot stay this way forever. So where the heck is my fairy godmother with some baby dust, already? When I was 11 weeks pregnant with Dominic, I went on a trip to Paris & Rome with my husband and another couple, my best friend from high school and her husband. I wasn't paying attention when she took this picture of me walking the streets of Paris with the wind hugging my dress to my body, revealing my baby bump. And even though it's just a tiny bump, it is one of the only pictures I have of myself where I look pregnant. I really want to go back to Paris this summer if we can afford it. A few people have asked me, though, if I associate Europe with bad memories because we lost Dominic and I was pregnant with him while we were there. A few other people have asked me if I am worried I might be pregnant again for this second trip, and if I'm afraid that traveling was what caused what happened to Dominic. If nothing else, Dominic was a well-traveled fetus. I loved Paris. I loved every single thing about it. I guess I see why some people would think I would be sad when I think about our trip, but honestly I am not sad at all. I will always look back on that trip and smile because it was one of the happiest times in my life. I was living my dream of traveling to Europe, something I really didn't think I would ever have the opportunity to do. It was a "once in a life time" kind of trip. I was happily married, pregnant, and traveling. There were great friends, great food, great scenery, I couldn't have asked for anything more. The only downside was that I couldn't drink all the wine and eat all the cheese. Honestly, if I am pregnant again the second time around, not being able to drink or eat certain things will be the least of my worries. I specifically remember sitting on the grass, looking up at the Eiffel Tower with my husband's arm around me and daydreaming. I was thinking about how different our lives would be in a few months and how amazing that moment was and marveling at how I could be so lucky to have everything be so perfect. I was just sitting there thinking how ridiculously happy I was, and my husband asked me what was wrong cause I had "crazy resting bitchy face." (This moment proved once and for all that I have no control whatsoever over my resting bitchy face.) I think about the girl from that moment a lot. I miss her. She was NOT a naively optimistic girl, she was a naturally pessimistic girl who was finally starting to allow herself to be truly happy and have faith that everything would work out. Through whatever other trials she had faced before, everything really did work out in the end. So maybe it was okay to finally let her guard down and believe that it would all be okay. I feel bad for that girl because I know about the train that was about to hit her a few weeks later. I specifically asked, and was specifically told, that the trip did not cause what happened to Dominic. The kidneys are formed at around 6 weeks gestation. If anything went wrong in his development, it happened at 6 weeks, not 11 weeks. When we got back from the trip I had an ultrasound and saw him flipping around in my belly like an acrobat. He was kicking and punching and bouncing around my uterus like the happiest, healthiest fetus on earth. If anything, I felt much better than I had been while on the trip. It could have been the time change or just the overall lack of stress, but the morning sickness (ahem, all day sickness), that I suffered from for 16 weeks, went on a temporary reprieve while I was in Paris. The whole time we were there I kept joking that my fetus must prefer France to America. I think that trip was good for me and my baby. Traveling is something I have a passion for, but realize will not be a priority once I have children. So obviously, I want to take the opportunity to plan more trips before I have a baby. Yes, I would have been fine if going to Paris last summer was my last big trip for a really long time, because I would have had a baby boy by now who would have rocked my world. And yes, we are trying to get pregnant again. But I can't continue to live with "trying to conceive" being the only thing I ever think about or look forward to. I need something else to look forward to that does not hinge upon my ability to procreate. Something that is within my control. So if I am pregnant again and I do go to Paris this summer, I hope I can sit at the foot of the Eiffel Tower with my husband and think about everything we have overcome in the past year and how everything will work out in the end. And if I'm not pregnant... at least I can have some amazing French wine and cheese to help make me feel better. |
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AuthorI am a 28-year-old who has survived 2 pregnancy losses in less than 6 months. The point of this blog is to document how I am feeling, in the hopes that one day I will be able to look back on all of this and be grateful for my struggle. And in the meantime, maybe it will help some people understand what I'm going through, or help someone who's currently going through a similar situation feel less alone. Archives
November 2015
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