Whew. It has been five whole months since I have written here, though not because I haven't remembered to or wanted to. For the first time in my life, I've been afraid to write. Writing has been my own personal therapy since high school, and reading, since elementary school. I have never been afraid to write until this year. I have a book to thank for opening up my mind and heart to be able to write again...because writing for me is truly, deeply feeling things and processing them (and a Roomie to thank for the book recommendation). If you need a brutal, beautiful book to read, "brutiful" as the author describes it...read "Love Warrior" by Glennon Doyle Melton....
So, moving onward, in January, we were given the most incredible gift...hope, in the form of a little baby girl who we are so thrilled to meet next month (!!). I have admittedly recoiled from my miscarriages by attempting to keep my excitement and love for this little girl at bay until there is a moment that I am sure she will "be okay," even though as parents, we open our hearts up for life. I haven't been able to find the words to describe this feeling beyond being afraid that by talking about her and planning for her and writing about her, that I will jinx her very existence. I know in my heart that she deserves better than that. She deserves a Mama that shouts out to the whole world about her, but in acts of self-preservation and fear, I have hidden my hope and buried it as deep as I can. Don't get me wrong...I have still picked out nursery decor, and baby gear, and thought about her name, but the Facebook announcements, writing about my pregnancy, and sharing with the world have been suppressed. I am still thoroughly relieved with every week I can tick off the pregnancy calendar, looking at pictures of what __ week old babies look like if delivered early to see how many wires and how much support they need, and how many days they spend in the NICU. I wonder with awe and admiration what my mom went through with having me at 29 weeks. I am still afraid to imagine what she will look like, how her birth-day will go, and what it will be like to say I have a daughter and "kids" with a plural "s" even though we are only a little over seven weeks away from meeting her.
But, because this little girl deserves a family that is unapologetically elated that she is coming, that is my goal. For the next 7 weeks, I will work hard to be more brave and less afraid, as best I can. <3
Monday, August 7, 2017
Monday, February 27, 2017
Decision Making
Just a fair warning ahead of time, this post is medically detailed, which might be boring to read, but is for me to remember as much as anyone else :) As I posted previously, we had a miscarriage and a chemical pregnancy in the fall. And in case I didn't define it, a chemical pregnancy is a cruel twist where you find out you are "pregnant" but the embryo doesn't implant properly. So, in essence, your hormones give you that sought after "positive" but your body (quickly) adjusts itself. Since we had gone through genetic testing at this point, I decided to discuss some further evaluation with my endocrinologist, who happens to be a "reproductive endocrinologist" or RE. I didn't even really consider that aspect of her practice, as looking for a strong endocrinologist had been my main priority. To be honest, I had had enough with "fluke events" that come with no explanation. So, she suggested some in-depth monitoring of my "cycle" to if/how much my PCOS was affecting my ability to stay pregnant.
It turns out that I had "ovulatory dysfunction." In my case, I was lucky enough that my ovaries were still releasing eggs on their own, but the eggs were not mature enough. It is hard to say whether or not this caused or contributed to my miscarriages, but it is possible. She said that we could keep trying naturally, or, that she had enough evidence to move forward with fertility treatment. In my mind, I was all for non-invasive treatment. I had heard from friends and co-workers that they just took some medicine, and "poof!" all worked out. My RE does not function that way. She charged a (hefty) fee because of the intensive contact we would need each cycle, which even includes texting me from her cell phone whenever needed. This has proved to be such a blessing-- I mean, how many people get that kind of contact with their doctor? What I didn't understand about this was how intensive the contact would be. Each month, I would have 3-5 appointments, strictly timed medicinal regimens, including a shot each month. Then, the dreaded "2 week wait" as online forums call it, where we see if we develop a whole new reason to worry, or if we have to start over.
My continuous comment from the last 4.5 years has been....I LOVE science. Genetics, our bodies and how they function....it is fascinating to me. I just wish I could see it from the outside looking in, sometimes :) Regardless of that sentiment, I am thankful to have the opportunity to have options.
I will say this whole experience...the last 6 months...has made me so much more sensitive to moms and friends going through fertility treatment. I am reminded that oftentimes, people don't think about their audience with enough empathy. I was, and probably still am that person. I have vivid memory of sitting with two amazing ladies that I grew up with, one of which was expecting at the time, and asking her sister when it was "her turn" in the baby department. I didn't know she had recently had a devastating miscarriage. I felt horrible at the time, but even worse after I experienced it for myself. The bottom line is that most of the time, people mean well and want you to be happy. But it was a great lesson for me to remember that I need to consider how what I say might affect someone.
The last thought I have is unrelated to fertility, per se, and more related to the hilarity that is family "planning." I know we have been on people's "I wonder when..." list for a while now. We have long passed the usual 2-3 year window between siblings. The funny thing is that we waited on purpose. Parker is beautiful, sweet, and complete trouble. We are overwhelmed 90% of the time, and sleeping the other 10%. Even at his happiest, he has a lot of doctor appointments, medical expenses, therapies, meetings, etc. It is a lot to manage. It took us a while to be able to handle that within our marriage. We decided we were ready last April. We never expected to have secondary infertility. My point to you is....sure, go ahead, try and "plan." The reality is that none of this is going to ever go according to your time table. You have to find a way to be at peace with that. I haven't yet, but some day, I'll look back on all of this, and understand better.
So, for now, think happy baby thoughts for us. We are waiting for our "rainbow baby" with lots of love (and nearly equal amounts of anxiety).
It turns out that I had "ovulatory dysfunction." In my case, I was lucky enough that my ovaries were still releasing eggs on their own, but the eggs were not mature enough. It is hard to say whether or not this caused or contributed to my miscarriages, but it is possible. She said that we could keep trying naturally, or, that she had enough evidence to move forward with fertility treatment. In my mind, I was all for non-invasive treatment. I had heard from friends and co-workers that they just took some medicine, and "poof!" all worked out. My RE does not function that way. She charged a (hefty) fee because of the intensive contact we would need each cycle, which even includes texting me from her cell phone whenever needed. This has proved to be such a blessing-- I mean, how many people get that kind of contact with their doctor? What I didn't understand about this was how intensive the contact would be. Each month, I would have 3-5 appointments, strictly timed medicinal regimens, including a shot each month. Then, the dreaded "2 week wait" as online forums call it, where we see if we develop a whole new reason to worry, or if we have to start over.
My continuous comment from the last 4.5 years has been....I LOVE science. Genetics, our bodies and how they function....it is fascinating to me. I just wish I could see it from the outside looking in, sometimes :) Regardless of that sentiment, I am thankful to have the opportunity to have options.
I will say this whole experience...the last 6 months...has made me so much more sensitive to moms and friends going through fertility treatment. I am reminded that oftentimes, people don't think about their audience with enough empathy. I was, and probably still am that person. I have vivid memory of sitting with two amazing ladies that I grew up with, one of which was expecting at the time, and asking her sister when it was "her turn" in the baby department. I didn't know she had recently had a devastating miscarriage. I felt horrible at the time, but even worse after I experienced it for myself. The bottom line is that most of the time, people mean well and want you to be happy. But it was a great lesson for me to remember that I need to consider how what I say might affect someone.
The last thought I have is unrelated to fertility, per se, and more related to the hilarity that is family "planning." I know we have been on people's "I wonder when..." list for a while now. We have long passed the usual 2-3 year window between siblings. The funny thing is that we waited on purpose. Parker is beautiful, sweet, and complete trouble. We are overwhelmed 90% of the time, and sleeping the other 10%. Even at his happiest, he has a lot of doctor appointments, medical expenses, therapies, meetings, etc. It is a lot to manage. It took us a while to be able to handle that within our marriage. We decided we were ready last April. We never expected to have secondary infertility. My point to you is....sure, go ahead, try and "plan." The reality is that none of this is going to ever go according to your time table. You have to find a way to be at peace with that. I haven't yet, but some day, I'll look back on all of this, and understand better.
So, for now, think happy baby thoughts for us. We are waiting for our "rainbow baby" with lots of love (and nearly equal amounts of anxiety).
Thursday, February 16, 2017
Friendship
We are hitting the age where Parker's peers are forming friendships and speaking their opinions- which is an interesting, emotional time for all parents, I think. This week, we have run the spectrum in what we overhear and notice as parents. Matt had an encounter today where a child next to Parker told her mom, "I don't like him!" right in front of Matt, and the mom did nothing to help her navigate that opinion. That hurts, knowing that your child, who doesn't understand and can't defend himself, is treated that way.
But on the flip side, I have a story to share. There is a little girl in Parker's class who ADORES him. She notices him. She protects him. She makes sure he is cared for. She even defends him when the teachers hold him to high expectations that he doesn't like :). For Valentine's Day, she made him a beautiful card. But even more, she knows him so well that she included a roll of streamers because he loves crinkling paper (and her parents let her!). Her family is always kind to us, and nurtures her bond with him.
Our kids learn empathy and kindness from US. The grown ups. Keep that in mind, even in the hard moments when your child makes an embarrassing comment in front of another family. This week, I cherish the fact that Parker has a true friend. It seems like it should be a given for a child, but in our world, it is a luxury.
Monday, November 14, 2016
Well Hello, Fall
Fall has been crazy so far. We've delved into investigating how my body is working, which is always a little anxiety inducing. At this point, I have some "ovulatory dysfunction" and will likely need some intervention with medicine and such to move forward. We will keep pushing forward!
Parker has had a really challenging start to the school year. We were SO celebratory with him giving up bottles in September, but it feels a little like things crashed all around us after that. Our current theory is that, by losing bottles, Parker has lost the little decompression time he had throughout the day. Kind of like all of your work breaks being taken from you without warning. Occasional or even rare extreme behaviors from him have exploded into becoming normal, every day issues. He is hitting and kicking people, clearing off any surface he can reach (imagine the school lunch table with kids learning how to pour their own milk), and screaming whenever there is an audience or potential for an echo. He is adorable, and does all of these things with a giant smile on his face, but it is exhausting. For us at home, it is frustrating us to the max, so we can empathize with teachers who have 17 other kids to worry about.
We immediately convened all of Parker's support systems, and brought on a behavioral therapist to try and help us problem solve. So far, we haven't found anything that can put a dent in the near constant behavioral challenges. Parker is deep in sensory overload, and is just taking stabs at things in his environment to see if he can control anything.
We've hit that dreaded point, where daycare is requiring an aid for Parker to continue. And we are, again, panicking. This time, though, we know in our hearts that the daycare has tried everything they know how to do. The sad thing is that daycares are still businesses. And businesses inherently don't want to spend extra money on kids. So, the daycare has done everything they know how to do (except for anything that might cost extra, like a companion or aid). Thus, we are left with leaving, or paying an aid out of our own pockets, at a minimum of $50 per day. This essentially would almost double the cost we pay for daycare per month.
We are at a loss in some ways. We only have one kid, as nature has so cruelly reminded us of this fall. With our work and commutes, we need a nanny for 50 hours per week. If we had more kids, a nanny would be a bargain, but we don't. So for us, paying for a nanny would be the same amount as paying for an aid plus daycare. Thankfully, a few people have told us about our local Park District, which is required to accommodate for kids with special needs through government regulations, and is actually a smidge cheaper than our current daycare. IF they have space mid-year, and IF we can get the volunteer companion they offer, we might be okay. If not, we are going to be stuck paying the same amount as our mortgage on childcare for ONE child.
The same fury flows through me at this situation as it did the last time we are in it. Except this time, there are no more daycares to fall back on if the park district falls through. We will be forced to remove Parker from a learning opportunity with his peers because no systems exist for kids like him in our situation. I keep having people say to me that I should be the inventive one to create that safe place for kids with special needs. And that can honestly be crushing. I'm honored that anyone believes I could take that on, but frankly, I'm tired. I love my job. I love my family. Why should I have to sacrifice those things to build a system that should already exist? Selfish, I know, but still true.
With a November birthday, Parker has another year and nine months in some kind of childcare setting. Here's to hoping we can find something that works for him, and stay put for once.
Parker has had a really challenging start to the school year. We were SO celebratory with him giving up bottles in September, but it feels a little like things crashed all around us after that. Our current theory is that, by losing bottles, Parker has lost the little decompression time he had throughout the day. Kind of like all of your work breaks being taken from you without warning. Occasional or even rare extreme behaviors from him have exploded into becoming normal, every day issues. He is hitting and kicking people, clearing off any surface he can reach (imagine the school lunch table with kids learning how to pour their own milk), and screaming whenever there is an audience or potential for an echo. He is adorable, and does all of these things with a giant smile on his face, but it is exhausting. For us at home, it is frustrating us to the max, so we can empathize with teachers who have 17 other kids to worry about.
We immediately convened all of Parker's support systems, and brought on a behavioral therapist to try and help us problem solve. So far, we haven't found anything that can put a dent in the near constant behavioral challenges. Parker is deep in sensory overload, and is just taking stabs at things in his environment to see if he can control anything.
We've hit that dreaded point, where daycare is requiring an aid for Parker to continue. And we are, again, panicking. This time, though, we know in our hearts that the daycare has tried everything they know how to do. The sad thing is that daycares are still businesses. And businesses inherently don't want to spend extra money on kids. So, the daycare has done everything they know how to do (except for anything that might cost extra, like a companion or aid). Thus, we are left with leaving, or paying an aid out of our own pockets, at a minimum of $50 per day. This essentially would almost double the cost we pay for daycare per month.
We are at a loss in some ways. We only have one kid, as nature has so cruelly reminded us of this fall. With our work and commutes, we need a nanny for 50 hours per week. If we had more kids, a nanny would be a bargain, but we don't. So for us, paying for a nanny would be the same amount as paying for an aid plus daycare. Thankfully, a few people have told us about our local Park District, which is required to accommodate for kids with special needs through government regulations, and is actually a smidge cheaper than our current daycare. IF they have space mid-year, and IF we can get the volunteer companion they offer, we might be okay. If not, we are going to be stuck paying the same amount as our mortgage on childcare for ONE child.
The same fury flows through me at this situation as it did the last time we are in it. Except this time, there are no more daycares to fall back on if the park district falls through. We will be forced to remove Parker from a learning opportunity with his peers because no systems exist for kids like him in our situation. I keep having people say to me that I should be the inventive one to create that safe place for kids with special needs. And that can honestly be crushing. I'm honored that anyone believes I could take that on, but frankly, I'm tired. I love my job. I love my family. Why should I have to sacrifice those things to build a system that should already exist? Selfish, I know, but still true.
With a November birthday, Parker has another year and nine months in some kind of childcare setting. Here's to hoping we can find something that works for him, and stay put for once.
Saturday, November 12, 2016
Time is Flying
It has been a while (again) since I've written here. In some ways, I just haven't known what to say. The school year began in whirlwind form personally, and then ramped up all around. Some of this post will be TMI, but honestly, I think that is okay. While I am much less angry about it now, I feel like so much of the pain that comes with pregnancy, pregnancy loss, and fertility is silent. That bothers me. I'll admit, though, that I am less angry about the silence because I understand how different the grief process is for everyone now. I also understand that there are people who have never even remotely had to worry about pregnancy, and that their comments can be hard to handle. I know, because I used to be one of those people. More than anything, I've learned that SO many people go through this, and that it hurts for everyone. The compassion that I have witnessed is so reassuring.
With no real direction from my OB-GYN, and some research, Matt and I decided that our coping mechanism would be to try again. With excitement and a healthy dose of skepticism, we found out I was pregnant again right after our genetic counseling appointment (ironically). That was a Tuesday. By the weekend, I knew something wasn't quite right. In short, different brands of pregnancy tests have different sensitivities, so I could tell that my hormone levels weren't rising fast enough. By the following Monday morning, all of my tests were negative. Soon after, the bleeding started again. Just in time for my OB-GYN blood work. By then, I had already accepted what had happened. I met with one of the doctors in my practice in a conversation I don't know that I'll ever forget. She told me that my body probably just hadn't recovered from the last one yet, and that since everything happened so fast, "they wouldn't count this one as a miscarriage," and would consider it a chemical pregnancy. I left that appointment feeling like it was my fault for not having waited long enough. By discounting the current pregnancy, this doctor felt like she was sparing me heartache, but instead, I felt to blame.
Because of my PCOS, I see an endocrinologist who also happens to specialize in reproduction. I am so thankful for her. I met with her the same week as the "chemical pregnancy" was ending, and she was visibly frustrated with the way my OB handled everything. She let us know that this was in no way our fault, and that my body had plenty of time to recover and do its job. She considers my 2nd pregnancy a miscarriage, or at least uses the term interchangeably with chemical pregnancy. We made a plan for how to take a deeper look at everything going on with my body, and actually listened to what I had to say.
The point is that your words, tone, and time all make a difference to people. I now believe in the spirit and possibility of a "rainbow baby" and hope that ours isn't too far out of reach.
With no real direction from my OB-GYN, and some research, Matt and I decided that our coping mechanism would be to try again. With excitement and a healthy dose of skepticism, we found out I was pregnant again right after our genetic counseling appointment (ironically). That was a Tuesday. By the weekend, I knew something wasn't quite right. In short, different brands of pregnancy tests have different sensitivities, so I could tell that my hormone levels weren't rising fast enough. By the following Monday morning, all of my tests were negative. Soon after, the bleeding started again. Just in time for my OB-GYN blood work. By then, I had already accepted what had happened. I met with one of the doctors in my practice in a conversation I don't know that I'll ever forget. She told me that my body probably just hadn't recovered from the last one yet, and that since everything happened so fast, "they wouldn't count this one as a miscarriage," and would consider it a chemical pregnancy. I left that appointment feeling like it was my fault for not having waited long enough. By discounting the current pregnancy, this doctor felt like she was sparing me heartache, but instead, I felt to blame.
Because of my PCOS, I see an endocrinologist who also happens to specialize in reproduction. I am so thankful for her. I met with her the same week as the "chemical pregnancy" was ending, and she was visibly frustrated with the way my OB handled everything. She let us know that this was in no way our fault, and that my body had plenty of time to recover and do its job. She considers my 2nd pregnancy a miscarriage, or at least uses the term interchangeably with chemical pregnancy. We made a plan for how to take a deeper look at everything going on with my body, and actually listened to what I had to say.
The point is that your words, tone, and time all make a difference to people. I now believe in the spirit and possibility of a "rainbow baby" and hope that ours isn't too far out of reach.
Monday, September 5, 2016
Progress Feels So Good!
We had a lot of progress as a family this weekend. Emotionally, we are recovering, and enjoyed some normalcy. We took Parker to the O.A.R. concert at Ravinia Festival on Sunday, and to the pool one last time today. We are thankful for the time as a family-- especially with one extra day to heal our hearts and feel the sun on our faces.
Today, Parker made HUGE progress. First, we have been working SO hard on drinking from cups. I wrote about this in a post over the summer-- but Ms. Deanna's aquarium tubing straw idea has officially caught on. Parker drank at least 4 ounces of chocolate Pediasure tonight at dinner...in less than 5 minutes! He was even breathing in through his nose so he could continue swallowing without a break. Proud Mama! Now, the trick will be getting him to do this with water :)
Secondly, Parker has been obsessed with books at night for the last few weeks (the teacher in me is swooning at this). Every night, we end our book reading with "Parker's Night Night Book" that was customized for him by Grandma and Grandpa Preis. We LOVE it. It has simple, rhyming phrases, cute illustrations, and is customized to fit Parker's life. One night a few weeks ago, Parker surprised us by recognizing the illustration of a slide on one of the pages. He bounced his little finger up the ladder and down the slide, saying "two...three...gooooo!" We were stunned and so excited. Parker has been identifying a new illustration each week. After slide was ball, then "bep" (bed), then star, and tonight was house. That elated feeling of him "getting it" will never go away for me. Matt and I are SO proud of everything he is accomplishing. And the fact that he does it all with this mischievous, sweet smile is a lesson for us all about how to live life. Love this boy.
Today, Parker made HUGE progress. First, we have been working SO hard on drinking from cups. I wrote about this in a post over the summer-- but Ms. Deanna's aquarium tubing straw idea has officially caught on. Parker drank at least 4 ounces of chocolate Pediasure tonight at dinner...in less than 5 minutes! He was even breathing in through his nose so he could continue swallowing without a break. Proud Mama! Now, the trick will be getting him to do this with water :)
Secondly, Parker has been obsessed with books at night for the last few weeks (the teacher in me is swooning at this). Every night, we end our book reading with "Parker's Night Night Book" that was customized for him by Grandma and Grandpa Preis. We LOVE it. It has simple, rhyming phrases, cute illustrations, and is customized to fit Parker's life. One night a few weeks ago, Parker surprised us by recognizing the illustration of a slide on one of the pages. He bounced his little finger up the ladder and down the slide, saying "two...three...gooooo!" We were stunned and so excited. Parker has been identifying a new illustration each week. After slide was ball, then "bep" (bed), then star, and tonight was house. That elated feeling of him "getting it" will never go away for me. Matt and I are SO proud of everything he is accomplishing. And the fact that he does it all with this mischievous, sweet smile is a lesson for us all about how to live life. Love this boy.
Saturday, September 3, 2016
8 Days Later
We are finally at a place where our feelings aren't so raw, after 8 days. My deepest respect goes out to every mommy that has gone through this, or who would give anything to be pregnant. The last 8 days have been a lesson in being thankful for what we have. We have a beautiful boy, a home we adore with two crazy dogs, meaningful careers, and family and friends that we love. I am focusing on that, and on remembering to be mindful of hardships that everyone has.
I think sometimes social media, as much as I love it, gives us this false impression of what life is like. We only present the happiest, cutest parts of our lives. And while I appreciate that because it cheers me up on challenging days, I do wish we could better support one another through the challenges in life too. I know I have a lot to learn by having more empathy for others. Talking about this with people in my every day life naturally brings up conversations about their hardships as well. I wish there were more opportunities to openly discuss those things, because they make up who we are, and conversations, at least for me, help me process events and move forward in my own life, and learn how to be a better support for people I care about. I digress...
Beyond lots of introspection this weekend, we are hoping to get back to normal life. We plan to go to go see a show at the Ravinia outdoor theater, hopefully spend some time at the pool before it closes, put our house back together after a serious lack of cleaning, and just rest and relax together.
This is my happy place:
I think sometimes social media, as much as I love it, gives us this false impression of what life is like. We only present the happiest, cutest parts of our lives. And while I appreciate that because it cheers me up on challenging days, I do wish we could better support one another through the challenges in life too. I know I have a lot to learn by having more empathy for others. Talking about this with people in my every day life naturally brings up conversations about their hardships as well. I wish there were more opportunities to openly discuss those things, because they make up who we are, and conversations, at least for me, help me process events and move forward in my own life, and learn how to be a better support for people I care about. I digress...
Beyond lots of introspection this weekend, we are hoping to get back to normal life. We plan to go to go see a show at the Ravinia outdoor theater, hopefully spend some time at the pool before it closes, put our house back together after a serious lack of cleaning, and just rest and relax together.
This is my happy place:
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
One Step Forward...
Wednesday: One of the hardest things about dealing with miscarriage is how long it takes the body to move forward. Like I said in my last post, it is this inescapable reminder of what will no longer be. I hate it, and am so angry and hurt about it. I will be so happy to be through the next week, when (hopefully) the physical part is done. The other part that will be done is the "last week at this time" types of thoughts. Last week at this time....I couldn't have a drink on our date night and wasn't one bit upset about it. Last week at this time, I was missing sushi a little bit, but couldn't eat it. I definitely had it for lunch today, though :) Once I get through the next week, I think I will have found more peace, despite the lack of closure we will always have about the Whys and the What Ifs.
Because 50% of miscarriages are related to some chromosomal issue, we made an appointment through a different hospital system to have a karyotype screening, which is a blood test for Matt and I to check our genes and hereditary possibilities for certain special needs. In the past, we were told that Parker was just a fluke. At this point, we would just like to be sure that everything is okay with both of us. It will never tell us with 100% certainty that everything will be fine "next time," should we be so lucky to have a next time. But, it will at least give us information we have been seeking.
I keep trying to find the lesson in all of this. The take-away. I can't. It has only been a few days since all of this started, so I recognize that I'm not far enough removed from it to see the big picture. The one thing I have learned is that a LOT of people go through this in silence. I haven't broadcast it, but the people that are closest to me at work have asked where I've been the last few days. I am the world's worst liar first of all, but second of all, I hate the silence of this process. Out of the 6-7 people I have told, 3 of them had miscarriages directly themselves or in their own family, and every single one of them has an extended family member or close friend (many of whom are other co-workers of mine) that have been through this too. That is an incredible, heart-breaking statistic.
The bottom line is that we will be okay, and we will move on. We have our happy family, and are hopeful to have more kids in the future. We will be that much more thankful, then.
Because 50% of miscarriages are related to some chromosomal issue, we made an appointment through a different hospital system to have a karyotype screening, which is a blood test for Matt and I to check our genes and hereditary possibilities for certain special needs. In the past, we were told that Parker was just a fluke. At this point, we would just like to be sure that everything is okay with both of us. It will never tell us with 100% certainty that everything will be fine "next time," should we be so lucky to have a next time. But, it will at least give us information we have been seeking.
I keep trying to find the lesson in all of this. The take-away. I can't. It has only been a few days since all of this started, so I recognize that I'm not far enough removed from it to see the big picture. The one thing I have learned is that a LOT of people go through this in silence. I haven't broadcast it, but the people that are closest to me at work have asked where I've been the last few days. I am the world's worst liar first of all, but second of all, I hate the silence of this process. Out of the 6-7 people I have told, 3 of them had miscarriages directly themselves or in their own family, and every single one of them has an extended family member or close friend (many of whom are other co-workers of mine) that have been through this too. That is an incredible, heart-breaking statistic.
The bottom line is that we will be okay, and we will move on. We have our happy family, and are hopeful to have more kids in the future. We will be that much more thankful, then.
Saturday, August 27, 2016
Learning to trust your instincts...even when they can't protect your heart.
"The best way to fight quiet is to talk. The best way to fight fear is with information." - Fatherly, from The Mighty
As a disclaimer, I know this is a taboo topic. Women's stories are all over Internet forums, but I almost never see anyone I know publicly share this. I'm doing so because writing is my therapy, and because the fact that something so common is so hushed drives me crazy.
Written Saturday...
Some people are so in tune with their gut instincts that they are confidently lead to the path or decision that feels right in such a solid way. I've never really been like that--in fact, I sometimes envy those people. I admittedly have a pessimist's mind, mainly for self-preservation. I fight to have a "growth mindset" every single day. So when I get little niggling thoughts, I often ignore them or misread them. When I was pregnant with Parker, I had this feeling that something was wrong. I've written about it before, but in short, what I felt like was risk of miscarriage really turned out to be risk of a different life than we had imagined.
2 weeks and one day ago, we found out (very early) that I was pregnant. Parker is almost 4, and we've intentionally, maybe wisely, maybe foolishly, waited until we were stable enough in our lives with him to grow our family. We were nervous, and ecstatic. Because I was really only 3 weeks and 2 days pregnant, we waited to tell our families. By last weekend, our sisters and parents all knew- which was lovely- their excitement was so palpable. But for whatever reason, for the last week or so, I had unfounded anxiety about bleeding. I checked every time I went to the restroom, nearly holding my breath each time, but still so excited with every day that passed.
This weekend was going to be packed. Thursday night, my cousin from NJ and his friend came into town. We had a great evening, and were planning to drive together Friday afternoon to Ohio for my mom's birthday. At work, I was anxious for the day to be over so I could be with and celebrate with family. Except that morning, my fears were realized, and I saw a small clot of blood in the bathroom. I panicked. I ran outside and immediately called my doctor. The saddest part about being only 5 weeks 2 days pregnant is that it is too early for people to feel any real urgency towards investigating a problem, and despite modern medicine, only so much can be learned or done. After a 15 minute wait, a nurse called me and asked me to come in for blood work. 5 weeks is too soon for an ultrasound.
Because I don't work in a private space, I grabbed my things and ran out without saying a word to anyone. I knew I wouldn't be able to hold it together in front of my co-workers. I made it to the street outside my car before promptly bursting into tears. Poor Matt was in the middle of picking up Parker from school, literally sitting in the front office, when I called him. At that point, in my heart, I knew it was done, despite the nurse telling me she's seen the whole spectrum of scenarios, including a successful pregnancy, happen after bleeding. I didn't "feel" pregnant anymore.
After talking with the nurse and hearing that nothing would change over the weekend until my blood work to be done Monday, and an ultrasound couldn't happen until later next week, we decided to head to Springboro anyway. On the car ride, the cramps started picking up, and with every bathroom break, the bleeding got worse. I will never forget the hollowness and despair that experience instills...knowing that you are most likely literally flushing the remnants of your dream down.
We both cried as we drove, and were thankfully comforted at times by Parker's unknowing comic relief. Just like with any pain, physical and mental, it is always worse at night. I couldn't sleep- I could feel what my body was doing, and couldn't shut my mind off. I kept getting angrier about the cruelty of how the body does this. I'm still pretty angry. This morning, I waited for the lab call with answers about my blood work, and with it, got my confirmation. My miscarriage had likely been set into motion a few days before, because my hcg and progesterone were already showing up as too low to sustain a pregnancy. The phone call both dashed the teeny smidge of hope I had left, and brought relief that I had a definitive answer to my experience. I'm thankful I didn't have false hope until Monday.
This clarity has helped make the bleeding and cramping less traumatic, even though I will be so so thankful when it stops. It is so early that my doctor doesn't even need to see me at all unless my pregnancy test still reads positive in a week. But two weeks is plenty of time to build dreams in your mind. I kind of wish the doctor would see me, if only to legitimize the magnitude of what has happened to us. My first instinct is to compare this to others and say- it could have been worse-- that many people have lost babies - some much much further along, and that some can't get pregnant at all. It is always my go-to move. I'm trying to remind myself that avoiding grief by belittling your own experience is not okay.
I'm trying the best I can to accept, process, and move on. I'm trying to be renewed for planning and trying again. I'm trying to stop reading online and memorizing statistics, like the 40+% miscarriage rate with PCOS. And I'm trying not to be so angry that a horribly cruel event gets dragged out by cramping and bleeding for a week. The constant reminder of what we've lost is infuriating because it is inescapable. And I'm trying to navigate how to go back to being a productive human being at what is sure to be a busy week at work. I'm taking Monday off, less for physical discomfort, though that is real, and more for mental health. I can't imagine passing blood clots while at work and still being effective in those moments.
Just like everything in adulthood, there is no rule book. Do I follow the lead of everyone else, and keep this close to chest? Do I tell my supervisors so they understand my absence at this crucial beginning of the school year time? How do I hide the bitter taste I feel at the hand we've been given? I have no clue. I hope within a week, the rawness goes away and we can step forward on our journey to complete our family. And I hope to God that this doesn't happen to us again. I'm sure that fear won't go away any time soon.
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