Obviously... we did not get pregnant this cycle. I'm angry and frustrated and very "WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?" about it. I just feel so... defeated. With this cycle went my last chance at having a baby in 2015. I am doomed to suffer through another baby-less Christmas. To top it off, Christmas 2015 will have the added bonus of at least 3 newborns in the family that I will be surrounded by. None of which will be mine, obviously. Lucky me. I guess the silver lining is that I still have a chance to be pregnant in 2015, just no chance to have my baby in my arms in 2015... So there's still that. I also feel really insecure that enough time has passed since losing Dominic that people are obviously starting to wonder why I'm not pregnant again, yet. Because if a few brave/brash people have the guts to actually ask me, that means a lot more are actually thinking it.
I'd like to travel back in time and meet whoever decided to refer to women's periods as "Aunt Flow," so that I can roundhouse kick them in the face. "Aunt Flow" is such a horrible euphemism for a painful, horrible week that is a slap in the face to any woman trying to conceive a baby. I like calling it "Shark Week" much better, it paints a much more accurate picture. But no - I love actual Shark Week. I don't want to taint one of my all time favorite binge television watching events. I guess there needs to be a euphemism for social etiquette purposes. I'll have to think of one I find appropriate. How do we feel about "The Week You Found Out All of Your Hopes and Dreams Have Again Been Destroyed?" No? Too Debbie-Downer? Okay, I'll work on it.
Obviously... we did not get pregnant this cycle. I'm angry and frustrated and very "WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?" about it. I just feel so... defeated. With this cycle went my last chance at having a baby in 2015. I am doomed to suffer through another baby-less Christmas. To top it off, Christmas 2015 will have the added bonus of at least 3 newborns in the family that I will be surrounded by. None of which will be mine, obviously. Lucky me. I guess the silver lining is that I still have a chance to be pregnant in 2015, just no chance to have my baby in my arms in 2015... So there's still that. I also feel really insecure that enough time has passed since losing Dominic that people are obviously starting to wonder why I'm not pregnant again, yet. Because if a few brave/brash people have the guts to actually ask me, that means a lot more are actually thinking it.
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Damn you, Baby Nazi! On the trying-to-conceive online forums, BFN is the abbreviation for a "big fat negative" pregnancy test. I caved this morning and took a test. I stared at it for 3 whole minutes willing a second line to appear to no avail. (Note to self: work on mind-control powers). Aunt Flow has yet to rear her ugly head but this was pretty much the nail in the coffin for this cycle. And with it went my last chance of having a baby in 2015. I wonder how many more women in my life will get pregnant and/or announce their pregnancies in this next cycle while I'm still trying. I'm averaging at least 2 a cycle at this point. How long am I going to be stuck here? I wish a "me" from the future could travel back in time to give "present-day me" some peace of mind. Maybe she could just tell me to take a chill pill and promise this really will all work out in the end. Ryan Gosling, you son-of-a-bitch, you always know exactly what to say. Sorry if you find that picture to be in bad taste, but I find it hilarious. Whatever, my blog, my rules. Finding that picture just made my day. The lady at the checkout counter took one look at my items for purchase (a box of tampons and a box of pregnancy tests) and did a little chuckle to herself. "Welp, it's gotta be one or the other, right?" she said. Well look at you, Checkout Counter Lady by day, comedienne by night. I gave her an awkward smile and an, "at least I'm prepared." So I'm still stuck in limbo land, no idea what's going on with me and getting very impatient. If this is the end of this cycle and the start of Aunt Flow, I'd really like to just get it over with so that I can move on to the next one. This hanging out for 3 days of not knowing what the heck is going on with my body is infuriating. I'm also suspicious that my basal body thermometer isn't working right. In the words of Charles Brown, "ARRRRRRRGGGHHHHH!!!!!!"
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. 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? Relax, Mom. "O" doesn't stand for "orgasm," it stands for "ovulate."
A lot of my friends who are also trying to conceive are constantly complaining about the dreaded "two week wait," after you ovulate. It's when you're basically doing nothing but waiting to find out if you're pregnant or not, and clinging to any small shred of hope that you might be. You can literally drive yourself insane with imaginary pregnancy symptoms. You constantly feel yourself up in the hopes that maybe your boobs are a just a little bit sore. Some women drive themselves crazy taking home pregnancy tests as early as 6 days post-ovulation (it is probably actually impossible to get a +HPT at 6DPO). The two-week-wait sucks, I've been there. It really does. But even worse than the two week wait for me is the wait to ovulate. I have long cycles. Frustratingly long cycles. Once even as long as 50 days. While most women O by day 14, I've had cycles where I haven't O'd until at least day 24. And let me tell you, those extra 10 days are super frustrating. If you did O on day 14, like your average woman, you could be almost done with your two-week-wait and theoretically could even know if your pregnant or not yet. All before I've even laid an egg. So this means I have on average 3-4 less opportunities to get pregnant a year than the average woman. It's also super frustrating because my cycles are pretty irregular. Most women who are trying to conceive can just time it right in the middle of their cycle and be pretty spot on. I could O on any day from 14-24, and if I don't pay really close attention to my body, I could completely miss it. I keep taking ovulation predictor tests day after day, after day. Negative after negative, after negative. All the while wondering if I'm ever even going to ovulate at all. My ovaries might be on strike this cycle. They're just like, "excuse me, Missy, but I believe your doctor told you to wait 2 months to try again!" Bossy ovaries. They think they know everything. What if I have an anovulatory cycle? That'll be super frustrating and a big waste of time and effort. What if there's something wrong with me? What the heck is going on with my body?! I've said it before, and I'll say it again: patience is not exactly my strong suit. So today is the release date of the live action Cinderella movie and unless you've been living under a rock, the ads for this movie are everywhere. Cinderella has become a trigger for me solely because of the song. I fully admit I am a grown ass woman who loves Disney. So one day recently when I saw Cinderella was on ABC Family, naturally I had to watch it, like any normal adult would. I completely broke down when I really heard the words of "A dream is a wish your heart makes" for the first time... "A dream is a wish your heart makes When you're fast asleep. In dreams you will lose your heartache Whatever you wish for you keep. Have faith in your dreams and someday, Your rainbow will come smiling through. No matter how your heart is grieving, If you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true..." Now I realize that the purpose of this song was not to speak to women who are trying to conceive a rainbow baby. But it sure does have an eerily applicable message for someone like me. In my dreams, I get to keep Dominic and I lose my heartache. But then I wake up, and yes, Cinderella, my heart is grieving. Preach girl, preach. Do you promise if I have faith my rainbow will come smiling through? Ha, that actually gives me a pretty funny image of a baby coming smiling through the "birth canal." All covered in gook, just like "Oh hey, Mom, here I am! Your rainbow coming smiling through!" I admittedly go back and forth between being pretty optimistic that my chances of becoming a mother are still relatively good, and extremely pessimistic that I am just doomed to struggle with this for a really long time. I can get really down on myself and despondent that I will never be a mother. So some days I like to put this song on in the hopes of lifting my spirits. All I have to do is just keep on believing, right? Although I'm not always so sure, and I end up just feeling like this: I realized the world was not going to stop procreating just because of what happened to me. But one of the questions I have struggled with the most since my losses has been the question, "Why her and not me?" There's new pregnancy announcements and ultrasound pictures on Facebook and Instagram every single day. Each one is like a kick in the gut. There was one day with a pregnancy announcement, gender reveal, and birth announcement posted on Facebook all within an hour of each other. It's not like I expect these women not to celebrate their pregnancies, and it is absolutely not that I wish what happened to me upon them. I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy. It's not just the announcements (believe me I've attempted to quit social media a few times since October), but this pregnancy crap is everywhere. Work, the mall, the grocery store, movies, TV shows, commercials, bumper stickers, billboards... everywhere. And every time I see a pregnant woman walking along, blissfully rubbing her belly it feels like I've suddenly gotten the wind knocked out of me. It's not like I've forgotten what happened to me and these things suddenly remind me. But it does sometimes feel like the universe is cruelly throwing it in my face. I feel like wherever I go and whatever I do, I am constantly surrounded by reminders that other people are pregnant and I am not. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate the preggo/mommy club. I just want to be a member of it again. I was for 5 months and was very rudely and abruptly stripped of my membership. And it's not like I thought everyone was going to put their own life plans on hold just because mine had come to a screeching halt. But I do feel like I'm standing completely still and everyone else's lives are speeding past mine. Even if they're not necessarily in the same place as me in their life right now, at least they're mobile. New jobs, new degrees, new boyfriends, new houses, new engagements, new marriages... new babies. And here I am, with my feet cemented to the ground, just watching them all pass me by. Because I'm stuck here. I achieved everything I wanted to up until this point. Everything I have done up until now was all in preparation for this next step in my life. I suppose a wiser woman would reevaluate her life goals... but I think I'm in a little too deep right now for that. So I constantly keep asking myself the question, "why her and not me?" A friend of mine who had struggled with infertility for years (and is thankfully pregnant right now after a successful IVF), put it to me perfectly when she said "I know how hard it is to watch the people around you get what you are dying to have." This was also followed by "Keep the faith." I'm trying. I really am. I just don't understand why something can be so easy for some people and so difficult for others. I work at an inner-city hospital and see some of the worst human beings on earth become parents with ease. I see horrible, terrible women with drug problems and baby-daddy drama and 11 living children come in super pregnant, begging for pain medicine. Pain medicine that they and I both know will cause harm to their baby. But they don't care. Because procreating has been so simple for them, usually even an accident. An accident. How can some women have perfectly healthy babies by accident when it seems almost impossible to women like me? How can I look at these women and not think, "why her and not me?" Sometimes I wonder if I am being punished for my sins. Maybe if I was a better person I would be blessed with a healthy baby. I wish I was a good enough person not to feel so envious of other pregnant women and new mothers. But if I'm being honest, the way I feel whenever I see a new pregnancy announcement is (sorry, Mom).... I had no intention of writing another post tonight, but for whatever reason my thought process just took a dramatic turn towards fear and I feel the need to get it off my chest. We were told to wait 1-2 months to try again after our second loss. I was not pleased with this medical advice, to say the least. Patience is not exactly my strong suit. One of my darkest times since I lost Dominic was during the waiting period before we could start trying again, and I think this was largely due to the fact that I felt so helpless. There I was, waking up day in and day out feeling completely miserable because I don't have a baby but completely unable to do anything about it. I watched several other women in my life become pregnant during those few months. This was also over the holidays, which just adds an extra depressing tint to everything. But I obviously made it through and with the new year came a new chance at a baby. And at least while we were trying again, I had something positive to focus on and strive for. I was still depressed but at least there was something I was doing to put an end to the depression. There wasn't necessarily a "light at the end of the tunnel," yet, but at least I was finally on the road that has the tunnel on it... And then we had our second loss... And I was told to wait again. In a fairy tale world I would tell you that I spent this time doing amazing things. I cured cancer. I solved world hunger. I got a new hobby.... but none of these are true. I just woke up everyday, went to work, and attempted not to cry in front of anyone. A lot of days I failed even at that. And now the waiting time is up again, and I was originally elated. We get to try again! And I know I can get pregnant! But wait... hold on there, sister. What if it happens again? Then what? Then something is probably actually wrong with me. Then I'll probably have to go see a specialist. My husband and I will both probably have to have a slew of tests done. And I'll probably be told to wait like 3-6 months to try again. Which is what I'm most afraid of at this point. Not the tests or the specialists, but the waiting. My mom likes to tell me I'll learn a lesson in patience from all of this, but so far... no lesson learned. How many more months of my life will I sit by and watch other people get what I so desperately want? Now don't get me wrong, I understand that there are women whose journey to a baby took years and I've only been on my journey for a year, so far. But I think after the giant, meteor-sized pothole in the middle of my journey, I'm entitled to a little impatience. So while I am excited at the chance to try again, I am also paralyzed by fear. What if it happens again? "Everything you want is on the other side of fear." - Jack Canfield |
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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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