Yesterday was October 15, or as it is known in the infertility and loss communities- Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. Each year on this day for quite a few years now, I have stopped to honor each of the parents that have faced the heartbreak of saying goodbye too soon. All over the world, fellow miscarriage, ectopic and infant loss sufferers send messages of support, light candles and remember the babies that live on in our hearts, despite us being unable to hold them in our arms. We say their names out loud, we share our stories with others, we mourn the lives we'll never know. It is simultaneously, a difficult and uplifting day. Every year, I am saddened by how many new members have joined the wretched & hellish world of loss but I am also awed and inspired by how many new supporters I discover. Each year there is a little bit less stigma, a tad less awkwardness and lot more love. It is amazing to witness in real time the growth that happens within society as a whole the more we talk about the realities of loss. And the reality is that it can and does happen to anyone. With an estimated 1 in 4 pregnancies ending is miscarriage or other loss, it is crucial that we are able to speak about these losses and the feelings that come with them.
It has been three years since my first miscarriage when Chad and I said goodbye to the dreams we had for our Sprout. My heart still can't help but wonder sometimes what life would have been like if that pregnancy hadn't ended in heartbreak. And now that my "Big Fat Maybe" is officially a Big Fat Chemical Pregnancy, I am already wondering what could have been if that embryo had continued growing instead of resulting in an early miscarriage. I probably will always wonder a bit about both of those pregnancies, about what could have been and I will always have cracks in my heart as result.
Those few hours of blissful hope after my positive home pregnancy test last month and then the devastation I felt once I learned the pregnancy wouldn't last, opened my eyes to how deeply I actually do want a second child. I have spent nearly three years shielding my heart and mind from believing it mattered to me as much it actually does. And seeing how much it also matters to Chad and Eliana, I can't help but dive back in, despite my earlier fears that I would need a much longer break before trying again. Granted, the actual transfer is still a little ways away, so there's still time to change my mind (and I have definitely already considered it) but for now I am moving forward to FET #3 with hope that this cycle will result in a much happier outcome.
And although October 15 is just one day and that day has come and gone this year, I will continue to honor the memories of all the little ones gone far too soon. The names of so many precious children are etched in my heart and I will carry them with me always. Ayla, Juliet, Thomas, Bayli, Rudyard, Desmond, Oscar, Audrey, Logan, Brody, Wyatt, Sophia, Caydence, TT and all the others we have lost- you are cherished, remembered and missed.
Today was the big day: Beta day. Oh how I dread beta day! The agony of waiting for that damn phone to ring after my blood has been drawn is one of the big reasons I kept putting of this FET. The day started out hopeful-ish. I went in for my blood draw early and was assured of a call before lunch. I have always waited for that call with my past cycles. I never poas (pee on a stick). Ever. I used to do pregnancy tests at home all the time back in my temping, charting, clomid days. I would squint and tilt and take photos so I could change the light & tint until I maybe saw a ghost of a second line. In reality, those sticks were always pure, stark white minus that one cruel line. And because it "could still be early", I would never truly lose hope until AF arrived and left me crying on my bathroom floor. It was a hell of a roller coaster and I have been terrified of it ever since I moved on to IVF so I always waited for beta. Until today.
Chad and I have both been so pessimistic, so afraid to even entertain the idea that this FET might really work that we agreed we wanted to find out together and on our terms. If it was negative, fine, but at least we'd be expecting it when the phone rang. So we left the RE's office & rushed to buy tests. I was too scared to look, so at first I just glanced out of the corner of my eye. One line. There was one line. But it had only been 30 seconds. So we both looked again and slowly a 2nd line was coming into view. It wasn't dark but it was clearly visible. No squinting, tilting or altering required! A second line! It was really happening! We were relieved and ready for the phone to ring. We didn't want to get too ahead of ourselves before we heard the numbers. But the call never came. Lunch came & went and the phone didn't ring. I've learned that clinic staff delays making "bad news" calls. They call their good news patients early. It only took 2 hours from blood draw to phone call when I got pregnant with Eliana. 1st beta- 737. Today, six hours had passed so finally I got sick of waiting and called them. The nurse did not sound cheerful or excited. She started with "congrats" but in a way that sounded like it had a question mark at the end of it. Then she told me my beta was 17. One freaking seven. My hope has plummeted to nearly zero. Either this is a chemical pregnancy/early miscarriage or the hCG booster I did last Monday still hasn't totally left my system. I have another beta on Thursday to see if my beta changes at all and yeah there is that small sliver of a chance that by some miracle it will shoot up but I'm not counting on it.
Honestly, it sounds awful, but I'm mostly hoping for a big drop. If this FET isn't the one, I just want to know. I don't want to ride the beta roller coaster again. Back in 2010 when I did my fresh IVF, my emotions were yanked in every possible direction with betas that rose but didn't double, then slightly rose again, then tripled. It was hell never knowing if that pregnancy was going to last. When I finally made it to ultrasound and there was no heartbeat, I was devastated and angry. If the cycle was not going to end in a baby, why did I have to endure that torture? A BFN would have hurt but it would have been easier to mourn. No ups and downs, no D&C, no miscarriage. That loss was painful and the merry-go-round that preceded it was hell. I do not want to do that again. I just want to know. Bad news hurts, it's awful, but it is better than maybes and we'll sees. Limbo sucks and I don't want any part of it.
I am so mad myself for peeing on that dumb stick and letting it get my hopes up! For those few, short hours, despite my attempts not to, I started to get attached. I began imagining whether Eliana would have a baby brother or sister in the spring. I started thinking about how it would feel to have a big round belly. I contemplated the number of weeks I would wait before telling my friends. I wasn't jumping up and down but I was truly hopeful. And I'm pissed at myself for that. I should have known better. It hurts more this way. It feels like someone offered me what I want most in the world and as soon as I reached to pick it up, they snatched it away and shouted, "Nope! Not this time!". The no sucks but not as much as hearing yes first and having it taken away.
My heart is slowly breaking. Nothing chips away at that crack quite as much as Eliana's sweet face and her requests for a baby brother or sister. Yesterday, totally out of the blue, she asked me if she could please have a baby brother or sister to hold. She wants it so badly. She tells me she will help with the baby and push the stroller. The hope and love in her eyes when she talks about it is indescribable. It kills me that I almost believed I would be able to fulfill that request nine months from now and now I am not sure when it might happen. I don't know for sure how quickly I will be ready to try again. My emotions just can't handle it. But no matter how sad or hurt I am about this cycle, I am nowhere near the point I was before Eliana was here. These are the same hurts, the same wounds, but they have scar tissue now. I will cry but I will have her to make me smile. I want another baby one day, I want her to have the sibling she craves, but she is enough. This is painful, yes, but it is nothing compared to the hurt of not yet being a mother. So, I will push through the next two days and hope that I have real, solid answers by then. I may cry, I may worry or panic, I may get pissed and hate most of the world, but in the end I will be OK. I just hope that end comes sooner rather than later.
Tomorrow Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month comes to a close. But before October ends, I want to take a moment and reflect on this emotional remembrance and do my part to add to the awareness of miscarriage, pregnancy loss and infant death. I truly believe it is important to have this time to stop the rest of the world and make the voices of loss heard.
Of course, as always, my family participated in the OC Walk to Remember in honor of the steps our babies will never take. It was an emotional event just as in years past, but what really struck me was just how big the event has become since we first took part 3 years ago. There were so many new faces, new names read aloud. The crowd was noticeably larger and the funds raised to support local NICUs and baby loss support groups was quite impressive. I really am thrilled to know that we helped to support such an amazing cause but I still really don't know how to feel about how much the walk has grown in these past few years.
The thought I wanted to hold on to and the one Chad kept steering me toward, was that the walk's growth is a good thing. More families than ever who have suffered the loss of their precious little ones are getting the support and the resources they need to grieve, to honor and cherish their babies. The walk's growth means that so many who may have been carrying their heartbreak alone for so long, now have found a place where they can celebrate their baby, hear their name, cry openly and do something positive for others who are going through the same. And the sheer number of supportive family and friends who accompany these grieving parents, holding their hands, shedding their own tears and honoring their lost sons and daughters alongside them is enough to make anyone's heart swell. Clearly, the walk, the entire Month itself, is fulfilling one very important mission in raising awareness of loss and increasing the love and support for those that experience it.
I tried my best to only think about these many positive aspects of seeing so many new faces among the ever-expanding crowd this year, but I couldn't help knowing better. I knew that many of these new faces meant new losses and for that my heart broke over and over again. I still carry and honor every single one of the names I wore last year. This year, I sadly had many new precious ones to add to that list. My little community has suffered far too much and I pray every day that no more will come, that the most recent loss will be the last. But no matter what happens I will always, always honor and remember. It is the least I can do.
And I can hope. I can keep reaching out for that light amongst the darkness. I can celebrate the sweet boy born just before 25 weeks gestation fighting and growing in the NICU. I can cheer for the amazing little boy home with his parents and big brother after the devastating loss of his twin sister in utero. I can rejoice for the friend who has reached full term with a healthy baby boy after the gut-wrenching goodbye she said to his twin halfway through her pregnancy. I can praise the amazing nurses and staff at NYU Medical Center who safely evacuated 20 infants from the NICU after the hospital lost power during Hurricane Sandy (story here). I can support those who are finding their way after a loss. Hold their hands as they try to bring their rainbows into the world or stand with them if they decide not to pursue another pregnancy.
It breaks my heart into a million pieces to think of anyone ever suffering the devastating loss of a child. I still cry for each miscarriage, each lost baby and I wish more than anything that no one would ever have to go through such pain. And yes, knowing what I know about how fragile these things are, seeing loss after loss, does give me trepidation when I consider trying to conceive again one day, but I would still never turn away from this community. Because what I have learned is that it is not just loss or grief we can find here, there is hope, there is love, there is life. Grieving is living, contrary to what many will have you believe. Crying, wailing, mourning, whatever form it takes, it honors the life we miss. My grandmother shared with me recently the stories of her two stillborn sons and the grief she still feels. She wears their birthstones on her mother ring right alongside her other six children and remembers them every day with love. I know that losing her boys shattered her heart and that she, like all parents who have lost, will always miss those pieces. But seeing how those that have experienced loss honor their children in the amazing ways that they live life is truly awe-inspiring.
For those that have lost babies, I know your hearts ache all year long. Please know that while October has been a month for the nation to be made aware of the reality of Pregnancy and Infant Loss, so many of us also ache all year along with you and we remember, love and honor every day.
Those of you that know me in real life or have been following my journey for a while now will undoubtedly remember where I was at this time last year. In March of 2010, I had completed my first cycle of IVF and discovered that it had worked and I was pregnant with my little Sprout. By April, both mine and Chad's emotions were in a tailspin of hope, worry and sadness as betas and ultrasounds began to reveal that my pregnancy would not be a viable one. It was and still is the hardest time of my entire life. And the irony of my miracle baby girl being born during the exact same time that my first pregnancy ended in heartbreak has never escaped me. I have often marveled at the coincidence of it and the emotional effect it has on me.
I know to many, Sprout's short time with us doesn't seem so significant, but it is a loss I still feel and probably always will. That will always be my first pregnancy, my first ray of hope and unconditional love for a child of mine. I had a necklace made to memorialize Sprout and have worn it during every major moment during my FET and pregnancy with Snow Pea. I found peace in the belief that Sprout had left my body ready to nurture new life and having that charm close to my heart for transfer, each ultrasound, labor and even Eliana's birth, has helped me keep that connection and that peace. What's really amazed me is the moments I have felt the connection between Sprout and Snow Pea in very unexpected ways.
When Chad and I were hanging by a thread toward the end of my pregnancy with Sprout, we heard the song "Imagine" by John Lennon as we drove to the RE's office and we both felt the comfort of it. We actually heard it nearly every time we went to those appointments and decided very quickly that it was Sprout's song. After the pregnancy ended, we didn't hear it played again until the morning we drove to the office for my beta after Snow Pea's transfer. I will always remember the moment it started playing, Chad and I both froze and looked at each other, with tiny tears in our eyes, and he said "I think Sprout is giving us a sign" And of course, hours later we got the call that the FET had in fact been successful, I was pregnant and this time it went the distance.
In the days right before Snow Pea was born, an even bigger and more surprising connection nearly beat me over the head. I was days from my scheduled induction and trying to stay busy while also finishing any tasks I could pre-baby. I decided to visit the mall near my house to get some yummy chocolates to bring to the nurses when we went into the hospital. As I walked out of the candy store, I saw that a scene had been set and ready for the Easter Bunny's arrival. I was immediately giddy. Holiday fun like that is one of the things I was most looking forward to about mommy-hood and this was the fist time I realized I'd get to celebrate this fun holiday moment with my daughter so soon!
I excitedly called Chad to tell him we just had to take Snow Pea for pictures with the Easter Bunny after she was born, and began looking around the scene for signs indicating how much photos would cost. I couldn't find a price list, but instead I saw a sign that instantly made my eyes water. It said "Sprout, the Easter Bunny, will arrive April 9th". How could my jaw not hit the floor? The Easter Bunny's name is Sprout? And he is coming on my baby's birth date? Does it get more ironic? Why yes, it does. I looked more closely at the scene set for his arrival and saw that on his bunny chair sat a great big Easter basket. Inside there were two big, brightly colored eggs and a pea pod and that was it, nothing else. Sprout had a Snow Pea in his basket. Whoa. I know the whole universe didn't conspire to make all of this happen just for my benefit but suddenly taking my baby girl to get pictures with the Easter Bunny took on new depth. Snow Pea was going to meet Sprout.
Of course, the actual meeting was uneventful for both Sprout the bunny and my Snow Pea, Eliana. She slept through it all in her adorable Easter dress and he held her carefully and sweetly so as not to disturb her, both of them sitting next to the pea prop I made sure was in the picture. But for me it was a bittersweet and wonderful moment. Not only were we there together taking part in our very first holiday tradition as a family of three, but somehow it all made a crazy connection in my heart and gave me a feeling of coming full circle. One year ago exactly I was saying goodbye to my Sprout and now here I am saying hello to my Snow Pea. Last year for Easter, Chad made a basket for Sprout which included an adorable, soft plush chick that for months I had to hide away in a box because the sight of it made me cry. Now it sits in the nursery, a gift from Sprout to Snow Pea.
As I said, I know that to many I may be making way too much out of lots of little things, but it gives my heart a sense of peace to see these connections, whether they are real or imagined. After years of struggle and heartbreak, my first pregnancy was a dream come true and nothing in my life has ever hurt as deeply as when it ended without a child to show for it. And as deeply as I love my daughter, a part of me will still always remember that loss and wonder what might have been. I know this sounds crazy but I continue to find contentment in a thought I had just after my pregnancy with Sprout officially ended. I felt as if Sprout somehow left my body in a state even more ready to grow life. As if, like a truly protective and loving older sibling, Sprout left some special unseen energy to ensure that the next one would grow healthy and strong. These moments, occurring just before learning I was pregnant and just before my daughter's birth, may be coincidence but to me they are signs that my feeling that day was right.
There are a lot of dates happening right now that I can't help but remember and reflect on their significance. Some of them happy, some sad, and some a strange mix of the two.
One year ago today, I was pregnant. Or if you want to look at it in the terms of the TTC community, I was technically PUPO, pregnant until proven otherwise. My first IVF transfer was exactly one year ago yesterday and one year ago today, Chad and I were a bundle of excitement, anxiety and nerves hoping that the transfer would be a successful one. I remember absolutely everything about how I felt that day. It was even more special and memorable because it was not only the day my little blasties would either implant or not, it was also our 3 year wedding anniversary. We couldn't help but smile nervously with the hope that our baby might be snuggling in on the anniversary of the best day of both our lives. And less than two weeks later we learned that our Sprout had in fact snuggled in, but sadly didn't continue to grow much longer than that, and by the time April came, instead of being happy and hopeful, we were sad and heartbroken. Which means that many memorable dates of the unhappy kind are ahead of us. And that in itself creates a crazy swirl of emotions inside me. My miscarriage is still the absolute hardest and worst thing I have ever had to experience. And there are still places and things from that time period I can't visit or see without crying. I will always mourn that loss, but I also recognize that I wouldn't be pregnant with this baby, with my Snow Pea, and I love her with all that I am. It is very conflicting to still miss Sprout but to not be able to even think of life without Snow Pea. With her due date fast approaching, I can't help but see the connections and feel the confliction. I didn't even realize until recently that my daughter would be born one year after the same time period as the worst moments of my life. It makes me wonder if her being born at the same time was somehow deliberate, meant to bring us healing and love during a time that we'd otherwise remember as painful.
There are other important anniversaries of our journey to parenthood happening around now. Last year on March 12th, I went in for my egg retrieval where my RE collected 21 eggs, 15 of which fertilized and one of which is now the daughter I have reached a full term pregnancy with. It is crazy to think that my unborn child was conceived over a year ago! And even crazier to think that her future sibling(s) were too! Of course, Sprout was conceived that day as well, so it is a bit bittersweet to think about that day but for the most part it is memory filled with hope and awe at what it has resulted in.
You may have picked up on my mention that one year ago today, I was not only PUPO, but also that it was our 3 year wedding anniversary, which means today is 4 years. And I have to say just how wonderful it is to be celebrating another year of marriage to my partner in life and my best friend. The years we spent facing infertility, the rounds of treatment and the loss of my first pregnancy all roll together into what is hands down the hardest battle either of us have ever dealt with, but having done it together has made us a stronger couple than I ever imagined possible. I knew I was making the best decision of my life the day I literally exclaimed "I Do!" but I didn't know just how right I really was. As memorable as these other dates are and always will be, none of them are as important as March 18, 2007, which was quite literally the best day of my life and the day my family truly began.
I'm tired, my back is killing me, my rib cage feels like it will burst at any second, and don't even get me started on how swollen my feet are. As I enter the final 6 weeks (!!!) of pregnancy, I can almost understand why I have heard so many pregnant women exclaim that they can't wait for it to be over. I know I am truly excited to meet my daughter and become a mommy, but despite all of the aches and pains I can't say that I am ready for it to be over yet. Not only do I still have a TON to do, I still absolutely love being pregnant! And oddly enough, I think I have infertility to thank for that.
At the beginning of this pregnancy, I had a hard time accepting it was really happening and allowing myself to celebrate. After 3 years of infertility and a miscarriage, my heart was very guarded and afraid. To be honest, it goes even deeper than that because so much of what I have experienced has changed me forever and I will always be a different person than I was before infertility, IVF, and miscarriage became a reality in my life. The good news is I like the person I am now, despite the scars, and I did finally begin to allow myself to enjoy my pregnancy, although I have stayed slightly guarded the entire time.
Some of the biggest things that helped me to accept and enjoy being pregnant were the very things I hear so many other non-fertility challenged women complain about. My first bout of gag-inducing, sitting in the bathroom all day, horrendous nausea was cause for extreme celebration! I happily texted and tweeted the world that I had almost lost my lunch. And although, I couldn't get my to-do list done to save my life, I was incredibly thrilled when the first trimester exhaustion took over my life as my sweet baby grew. With each new symptom came new reasons to celebrate. They have continually reminded me that my pregnancy is healthy and that my daughter is thriving.
My heartburn and leg cramps, while painful, have also allowed to have a little glimpse of what it would be like to be a "regular" pregnant woman. Granted, my pregnancy IS completely and totally normal. How I conceived has absolutely no effect whatsoever on how my pregnancy actually develops, but the world doesn't always know that. Many people assume I am high risk because of the fertility drugs or the FET itself, but the truth is my body and the medical community see my pregnancy as if it had begun the old-fashioned way. But even though I know that to be true, with everything I have gone through to be here and everything I know as a result, I very seldom feel "regular".
I can't imagine what it would feel like to be one of the blissfully unaware. One of those ladies that chucks her birth control and just lets nature take its course, and then have that actually work without any additional knowledge or intervention. How amazing it must be to experience pregnancy without all the worries and baggage that come along with surviving infertility, or to be able to share every teeny milestone and ultrasound picture without infertility survivor's guilt, or to have extra money to start your child's college fund instead of paying back IVF induced debt. I wonder how many of the families who experience a struggle-free road to pregnancy know how lucky they are. I also wonder if those who have never experienced loss know it too. What I wonder most though is what kind of pregnant woman I would have been if had never gone through what I did. Would I rejoice over back pain? Or would I be on Facebook complaining about my sore muscles at every opportunity?
I am in no way trying to attack or criticize anyone who has not dealt with loss or infertility, merely trying to explain how different the experience is for me because I have experienced these things. I think in many ways that what I have gone through to become a parent has been a blessing. My husband and I have developed a closeness and a connection deeper than I ever dreamed possible. I have found a wealth of love and support from friends and family and met new friends that have enriched my life beyond belief. I have learned more and more about the realities of infertility and become a part of the voice for advocacy in the infertile community. I am now proud to be outspoken and educate others on these issues. I have enjoyed every single moment of my pregnancy, even the difficult and painful ones. I also have a feeling that our experiences with infertility will keep Chad and I thankful later when we're dealing with the realities and challenges of parenthood. And even though I sometimes wonder what it would have been like to have had an easier road to becoming a mom, I can't imagine my journey any other way, and for that I am grateful.
Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. Tonight, Chad and I will be lighting a candle at 7pm to remember all of those who have suffered a loss, as well as to honor the pregnancies and infants that have been lost. Sadly, I have so many friends who know this pain all too well and I think it is not only important to light a candle for them tonight but to spread the word and raise awareness about loss. Far too many go through it alone, unaware that they have friends and family members that can empathize because these losses unfortunately, happen far more often than many people realize.
For Chad and I, today's remembrance ceremonies are incredibly bittersweet. As most of you know, I became pregnant after my first IVF transfer in March and, after a roller coaster of not quite doubling betas, learned that the pregnancy was not viable. I still miss Sprout all the time and while I love Snow Pea more than I could ever express and feel incredibly grateful that this pregnancy has been healthy and problem-free so far, I still can't help but sometimes wonder what might have been.
Being pregnant after a loss brings so much hope but it can also be ridden with hidden emotional land mines. Each time I reach a milestone in this pregnancy, I am simultaneously relieved and a little sad knowing that my first pregnancy never made it to that point. The first appointments after graduation from my RE were the hardest. Dr. Jedi was a model of empathy and support, He and his staff were there with me through the entire ordeal and often asked how I was feeling and recovering, physically as well as emotionally. They also of course knew everything there was to know so I never had to answer any hard questions. At my first OB appointment though, I was completely unprepared to be asked how many previous pregnancies I have had. Having to answer that this was my 2nd and then providing the history of my pregnancy with Sprout was difficult. Especially since I had to write it on my intake paperwork as well as say it out loud. It knocked the air out of me a bit and I spent the rest of the day in bed.
I still relive that moment often and fight a tear each time I tell someone that this is my 2nd pregnancy. But I always tell them that because I want to honor Sprout and also continue to raise awareness for all those who have experienced loss. After the miscarriage I used to cry for hours asking Sprout, why? Why did you leave me Sprout? Although I know it's not rational, I still sometimes wonder what I did to make Sprout leave. Struggling with infertility is hard on so many levels, one of them being the anger and despair felt at your own body for unable to do something you always believed it was made to do, something that is supposed to happen naturally without thought or effort. Then to finally achieve pregnancy and have it end, the feeling of failure and of betrayal by nature can become downright overwhelming. I can't imagine how I would've survived those first weeks without the love and support of others who knew my pain. I know for many it is difficult to share their experiences with loss and miscarriage, but knowing you are not alone helps so much. So although it isn't always easy, I still share.
During our journey with Sprout we discovered that each time something happened, we would hear John Lennon's "Imagine". Chad and I declared it to be Sprout's song, and we would often hold on to those lyrics as a source of hope. After we lost Sprout, I found peace in the thought that Sprout somehow left my body in a state even more ready to grow life. As if, like a truly protective and loving older sibling, Sprout left some special unseen energy to ensure that the next one would grow healthy and strong. Which is why Chad wasn't surprised when on our way to Snow Pea's first ultrasound we heard "Imagine" on the radio. He said it was a sign from Sprout that our Snow Pea was strong and being cared for. I can't think about that moment again without shedding a tear, just as I did then.
I wear my Sprout charm often close to my heart, including to every appointment, and I think of the happy memories each time I do, especially today. I remember the utter joy and hope I felt those first few days of my pregnancy. And I will never forget. Although today is full of tears for many, it is also full of hope, remembrance and love. So when I light that candle tonight I will be thinking of Sprout as well as every other loss, and while I am bound to shed a few tears, I will also be thinking of the joy these precious ones have brought to us. Whether for a moment or a lifetime they have each made us capable of more love with their presence than we thought possible, and they will live in our hearts forever.
In honor of Sprout I also want to post again the beautiful remembrance video my amazing husband made:
I want to thank everyone again for the kind and supportive comments I received on my "Pregnancy Guilt" post. It was important for me to get my feelings out and get much needed feedback on whether we were doing the right thing as far as our neighbors are concerned. After getting my thoughts out and hearing your reactions, Chad and I decided we would definitely make an attempt to get together with them and we would share our story at that time.
Just days after that blog post, we ran into them again unexpectedly in the neighborhood and the four of us wound up chatting on the sidewalk for nearly an hour. We learned a lot more about them and their precious daughter in that time and we were able to share more about ourselves as well. D (husband) and J (wife) told us that they had been TTC for almost 3 years and were about to begin testing when J discovered she was pregnant. Her pregnancy was mostly normal and healthy until after an ultrasound in her 3rd trimester they learned that their daughter had a 95% chance of being born with down syndrome and a congenital heart defect. J said she was initially in denial. She had no risk factors, she was young (26 during this pregnancy), she couldn't believe it. But when their angel was born the diagnoses was confirmed.
J and D spent lots of time, money and energy getting their daughter the medical care she needed. She had surgeries on her heart in attempts to save her life but during one of her operations her little body let go. Her parents though, did nothing but smile at the memory of their sweet baby girl as they told us of her short life. She was so sweet they said, smiling often and rarely fussy and her 6 months with them was a blessing.
Of course, Chad and I were fighting back tears as they told us all of this and then we lost that fight a bit when J went on to tell us that after they lost their daughter in February, she became pregnant and miscarried in May, one month after my own miscarriage. Which I shared with her and although I know my loss is different from hers, an understanding of that pain passed between the four of us. And I worked up the courage to tell them about our IVF and FET and current pregnancy. They were very congratulatory and understood both our hope and our fears after suffering a loss. It was an incredible conversation and we really enjoyed talking to them. As we parted ways we all agreed to spend time together again soon and the next day we exchanged phone numbers and email addresses by leaving them on each other's cars.
This past Friday, Chad was very excited about our potential new friends and invited them over for a drink. They happily agreed and we wound up sitting in our living room talking and laughing for over 3 hours. It was great and so easy. Conversation just flowed easily back and forth between light, getting to know you topics and more serious stuff. We talked about our jobs, school, families, relationships, mutual interests and of course our desires to be parents.
All night I kept thinking about what great new friends we were making and how much I hoped for good things for them. Then J announced she had taken an HPT that very morning and gotten a BFP. She is pregnant again! She told us we were the first and only people they had told because after the m/c she dreads another and wants to wait at least a month before telling family. She just needed to tell SOMEONE and since we are expecting again after m/c and understand the hopes and fears that come with that, she felt comfortable for us to be those someones. Right now, I am very optimistic and cautiously excited for them. I am still so honored that they shared their news with us, and of course I am hoping with all of my heart that this pregnancy brings them the child that they so deserve.
I am also hoping that this friendship can continue to grow. I am so glad that we reached out to them when we did. Not only did we give them a bit of comfort but now all four of us are enjoying the benefits of a new friendship, a friendship that it seems couldn't have come at a better time for any of us. If I have ever doubted whether being open and honest about our struggles with infertility was a good idea or not, this just proves that is.
Lately, it seems like there are more and more ladies in the infertile community crossing over into the new and unfamiliar territory of pregnancy. With this transition comes so many wonderful emotions and feelings but there are unexpected emotions as well. Almost everyone I know that has gone from infertile frustration to pregnant elation has dealt with some type of guilt in the process. Everyone remembers the hurt they felt after a BFN or pregnancy loss when someone else around them got pregnant. Having dealt with that pain ourselves we hate to think we could be the ones unintentionally inflicting it on others. I have read many blog posts this year from women who are feeling this way and want desperately to reach out and let others know they care while still honoring their pregnancies and cherishing them.
I of course, being newly pregnant again after years of struggle, thousands in treatment and the loss of my 1st pregnancy, have dealt with these emotional struggles as well. I love and adore the women that have supported me and cheered me on through twitter and my blog and I want to continue to support each of them as they continue their journeys into motherhood and beyond. I understand, though, how hard it can be and do my best to be sensitive to others. But I also know that there may be some who need to protect their feelings and will choose to avoid my blog or tweets and I respect that.
Recently though I have feared inadvertently hurting someone who will have no way to hide from my pregnancy and it breaks my heart to think of it. My husband and I live a neighborhood with shared garages. The neighbors we share ours with moved in when the wife was about 8 months pregnant. They were so excited and positive and couldn't wait to be parents. When their little girl was born you could tell they were overjoyed. When we passed them coming and going they always commented on how wonderful it was have their daughter home with them.
Then at about the time I did my 1st IVF transfer, about 6 months after their daughter was born, we stopped running into them. Their car was never in the garage and we never saw them coming or going. To be honest we were pretty distracted with our IVF and subsequent miscarriage so we didn't think too much of it, but then we learned the awful truth. I am good friends with the woman who manages our property and she let me know that they had planned on moving early because their baby girl had passed away. My heart shattered into a million pieces when I heard this. I know how painful my pregnancy loss had been, I couldn't even imagine how devastating losing your 6 month old child would be.
I completely understood why they would want to move and didn't expect to see them again, but suddenly one day they were back. They were as nice to us as they had always been, smiling and saying hello when we'd see each other and leaving plenty of space for our car when they parked. I didn't want to pry or tell them what I had heard so I never stopped to ask about the baby. Stopping them as they got in or out of their car just didn't seem like an appropriate way to approach them anyway.
But then they came home one day with a remembrance decal on their back window and I saw that their little angel's 1st birthday was coming soon. So I told Chad and we immediately agreed that we should do something to let them know we were thinking about them. Just hearing those simple words meant so much to me after our loss, and I wanted them to know we cared. So on the baby's birthday we left a potted plant with little yellow blooms on the front porch with a simple note saying they were in our thoughts and our hearts.
This was over the weekend. Last night, we were walking out of the garage as they pulled in and they stopped to thank us and say how much it meant to them. Chad and I both got teary as they said they had wanted to say something to us sooner but it was hard for them to talk about it. Then they suggested we all get together sometime, which we wholeheartedly agreed to.
As we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways, I cried again. I cried for their heartbreak and loss and for the fear that I will soon be a source of more pain. The day will come when my pregnancy will be visible and I can't imagine them having to be parked next to me every day never knowing when they might run into me and my bump, then one day running into me and my baby. I just can't imagine hurting either of them like that. It is the last thing I want to do. Chad and I talked and agreed that if we do actually have dinner or something with them in the near future, we will tell them our story and our situation so that they are prepared. Nothing is worse than the shock of not knowing or not being told and being surprised by the news later.
I still don't know what happened but really that is not important, what is important is that they have suffered an unimaginable loss and I want to be as sensitive to it as I possibly can. I am crying now just writing this, for them and anyone else who has ever lost a child as well as for those struggling to become parents. Both are a deep source of pain that no one should ever have to endure and my heart hurts for every unsuccessful cycle, adoption wait and loss.
Pregnancy after infertility feels a lot like survivor's guilt. Why should I be here while so many others still hurt and struggle? Why me and not them? Of course I love Snow Pea with all my heart and wouldn't trade this pregnancy for anything, but I still find it so unfair that so many wonderful people are still struggling with infertility and loss. I hope and pray that I can not only avoid causing anyone any hurt but that I can also be there to love and support those who need it.
As you may have noticed from this past month's blog entries, there has not been a whole lot going on with me lately. Since my miscarriage, I have just been trying to stay busy while I wait for AF so that I can start FET. All of this waiting has made it difficult to keep my brain from doing crazy things- as you may also have noticed from this past month's blog entries- and my struggles with my body have been no exception.
I was pregnant for 8 weeks. It wasn't long but in that short time my body began responding the way a pregnant body should. I was fatigued, bloated, and my breasts became very large and sore. It was all in the name of baby so it didn't matter, actually it was a good thing! But then came getting un-pregnant. A week or so after the D&C my breasts didn't hurt and I could easily make through the day without needing a nap (so long as I hadn't been up too late crying the night before) but 5 weeks later and my body hasn't bounced back quite so well.
I will be honest, I, like many women, have been carrying around negative body image issues for years. I don't want to be "that girl" but I can't help comparing myself to what I used to look like when I was 22 and wondering if I "look fat in this". It's awful and my goal for many years has been to develop a healthier body image and learn to stop chastising myself. I do not want my kids to learn this mindset and continue the negative cycle. I know that a lot of my predilection toward negativity is learned. It's as if we are taught not be happy with how we look and we pass that on to the next generation. I know hearing my mom call herself fat definitely didn't keep me from feeling inclined to do it to myself. I've been trying for years to be happy with me and I can't say that I've completely undone my negative body issues, but I've made progress.
But this past month has been different, it's been worse. I have truly hated seeing myself in the mirror and even more so in pictures. I can see every flaw, every extra ounce as if I were under a microscope. I am healthy and while my body is not perfect, I know logically that I am ok, I look ok. But every time I see myself I see the changes. I see my slightly pudgier tummy, my fuller breasts and my rounder face and I can't stand it. Every extra bit of softness that came after I got pregnant is an awful physical reminder of what my body was doing, should still be doing, but isn't. It just feels so unfair to have gone through all of these physical changes without anything to show for it. The extra pounds would be fine with me if it meant my child was healthy and alive inside of me. Even though I know it wasn't mine or my body's fault that I miscarried, I still sometimes feel like it betrayed me. I have been dealing with anger toward my body because I can't get pregnant on my own for a long time already so adding the miscarriage just made it easy to hate my body even more.
But the good news is, my desire to get the 5 pounds I gained while pregnant off before trying FET, has given me an unexpected emotional outlet. I have always tried to exercise at least a few times a week. I drag Chad on walks after dinner as often as possible and always try to do some sort of workout in the morning. But this week I have a new found love for breaking a sweat. I have been hitting the elliptical every day as well as tossing in cardio sculpt dvds each morning and keeping up our evening walks. Don't worry I'm not going crazy and over-exerting my body. I keep my heart rate in check and stick to a half hour to 45 minutes for each workout, but it really has helped my mental state. Not only am I getting the endorphin exercise high, I am also feeling better about myself, little by little. The scale hasn't changed yet and my clothes still fit pretty much the same (although a wee bit better), but I hate myself and my body a lot less and that matters more.
I have been working very hard at putting one foot in front of the other each day, at moving forward and finding hope amongst all the pain. But this past weekend I lived what I already knew, and that is that, even as I begin to heal emotionally there will be backwards steps, and wow did I backstep!
As I mentioned in a previous post, once Chad and I found out about the miscarriage, we called off our trip to Florida to visit friends and family. A mutual friend of ours who has been very close throughout the process wanted to visit us instead and we thought it was a great idea. It seemed like the perfect way to get some in person support and positivity. It was a short trip and started out with lots of fun and laughter but on the second day I had kind of a break down.
The day started out pleasantly. The three of us made plans to get out of the house and enjoy the great Saturday ahead of us, but after a little while I found myself getting easily irritated for no real reason. I couldn't really understand why I was so moody all of the sudden. The guys tried to help and truly were being nice about it, but my emotions kept snowballing and before I knew it I was a crazy mix of sad, mad and confused. I became a crying mess and the worst part was I couldn't really understand why. I felt like a prisoner in my own head. Inside I knew there was nothing to be upset about, I knew I was being overly emotional and irrational but I couldn't stop myself from feeling what I felt. And then the tears suddenly gained a focus and a meaning and that's when I really cried it out.
I realized that although it didn't seem like it at first, it was still all about losing Sprout. Our friend was supposed to be visiting later, once the baby was born, and although his visit was great it was a also a reminder of what I had lost, what should have been but wasn't. Not knowing why I was upset at first also contributed to the intense emotions because I really started to wonder if I was losing my mind. Luckily, I was the only one that thought that and not only did I get amazing support from Chad and our friend, but as always my Twitter girls came to the rescue and assured me that even though it didn't feel like it, what I was going through is completely normal.
And that's the truth, it is completely normal. I am healing and feeling more hopeful and at peace everyday, but that doesn't mean I don't also still feel pain. And although it felt like a giant step backwards to lose it like that, I realize that I was actually accessing and getting out some of the pain I hadn't felt yet. Getting it out is the only true way for me to heal, so I even though it felt like I was regressing I know that it was really progress instead. The big myth is that healing of any kind is linear, that you just keep going through the stages of grief one by one until you're all better, but the truth is, the path is bumpy and there are many twists and turns along the way. I have to give myself permission to have the bad days as well as the good. I am still putting one foot in front of the other every day and I am lucky enough to have an amazing support system to help me through on the days I step in muddy water. If I need to cry I will cry, but if I want to laugh I can do that too, even at the same time! I know I'm not completely restored or emotionally healed yet but that's OK, I don't need to be, I just need to be true to me.
Empty Womb, Empty Arms but a Hopeful Heart
I realize that I have been a terrible blogger lately. It has been an emotional and eventful week and I just haven't had the energy or ability to commit to blogging but finally I have found a few moments of zen and I want to catch you up on all that has happened in the past week.
Last Friday, I had one more ultrasound just to triple check because of my rising beta numbers. As expected there was nothing more than scattered debris inside an otherwise still empty and still growing gestational sac. Once I saw that , I knew that it would probably continue to grow for weeks before my body would recognize something was wrong and a natural miscarriage would occur. I couldn't stand the thought of being pregnant for weeks and weeks without a baby growing inside me or the trauma I fear that would come with a natural loss. That, coupled with my desire to keep moving forward and begin the FET as soon as humanely possible is what ultimately helped me, Chad and my doctor all agree that a D&C was the best choice in this situation. We scheduled it for the following Tuesday, which if you are checking your calendars was yesterday, the 27th.
Now that it's over I can attest that this really was the right decision for me. Of course, I am in no way saying it's the right way to go for everyone in this situation but for me it was. Monday I had to go in for a Pre-Op appointment, one more check with wandy (everything still the same but with a slightly bigger sac) and a bit of blood work. I also got to complete the lovely task of paying the bill. This is one of the definite negative aspects of this choice. I must admit I have been a bit angry at what it cost to get "un-pregnant" after I had paid thousands to get pregnant in the first place. And aside from the financial aspect it is that thought, of getting un-pregnant, that makes the most emotional right now.
When I went into the surgery center I was already prepared for a head trip. I had the procedure in the exact same place I had my egg retrieval, only 4 floors down from where my remaining 13 embryos are frozen, and where my embryo transfer took place. So I got un-pregnant in the same building that I got pregnant, and where I hope to get pregnant again. It really was a emotional and mental tug of war stepping into that building, especially because as I walked in the cutest and roundest 7 month belly bump was walking out. I couldn't help but realize I would be entering this place pregnant and leaving not, only I wouldn't have a baby in my arms when I left as I always expected I would when I became "un-pregnant". This is what brought me to tears as I lay in the hospital bed waiting for the anesthesia to kick in. Thankfully, Chad was with me until they wheeled me into the OR and he provided plenty of hugs in that time.
The next thing I knew I was waking up in a little bit of pain with monitors stuck to my chest. They removed the sticky diodes then brought Chad back and he helped me get dressed and into the car. On the way home, he told me what the doctor said while I was in recovery. He said that everything went very smoothly and that the procedure was complete. I shouldn't need any additional treatment. He also said that my bleeding is very light and will probably be the lightest he has seen in years. 12 hours after leaving the OR, I can attest that he was telling the truth. That coupled with pain and cramps mild enough that I have yet to take even a Tyle.nol, has made this a lot easier to handle. And as always the amazing support I have received from friends and family, both in the virtual realm and the "real" one, has given me more strength and comfort than I think I could ever fully express. Again, thank you for all of the love and support you have given me.
I am still struggling with sadness and anger at my loss and I know that I will always have emotional scars from all of this, but I am starting to feel a little more like me every day. It's a changed me, as I will never be completely the same, but I am becoming ok with that. Not that I wouldn't change it all and have my Sprout back alive and well if I could, but I each day I am able to be a little more glad that I had Sprout with me at all, even if it was for much too short a time. This is huge for me because for the first week, one of my dominating thoughts was how I angry I was that I had gotten pregnant only to have it fail. I felt like this pregnancy had robbed me of so much time that i could have spent trying again. But more and more I can appreciate that while I was only able to nurture this life a short while, it was there and I did everything for it during that brief time. And I know this sounds crazy but ever since I woke up after surgery yesterday, I have felt as if Sprout somehow left my body in a state even more ready to grow life. As if, like a truly protective and loving older sibling, Sprout left some special unseen energy to ensure that the next one would grow healthy and strong.
I still cry and probably will for a long time, (don't be surprised if I slip back and you see another depressed post in the weeks ahead) but I can see light at the end of the tunnel again. As a good friend who has also experienced this type of loss has said, I have nowhere to go but forward. Even if some days it's at a slug's pace I am will never "move on" but I will always keep moving forward. I have no plans of stopping or giving up. I have hope that I will succeed and the next time I get pregnant I will not get un-pregnant until the day I get to hold my happy, healthy baby in my arms.
Well ICLW is here again and so much has happened since the last one I can't believe it. If you are visiting me for the first time I will give you the short version of my story so far. If you are unfamiliar with ICLW, which stands for International Comment Leaving Week, you can find information here.
My husband Chad and I married in March of 2007 and threw out all forms of birth control shortly after, fully expecting that simply "not preventing" would bring us a baby in no time. By the beginning of 2009, we had accepted that was not the case and began seeking medical help and got more serious about "trying" using charts, OPKs, and other tricks of the trade. Finally in the fall of 2009, we had a full work-up completed and learned that I had at least one blocked fallopian tube. My OB put me on Clomid to increase chances of ovulating on my "good side". I responded well each month but never got pregnant. After three months we abandoned the OB in search of an RE who quickly realized that my blocked tubes were worse than originally thought and recommended IVF.
In February of 2010 I began medications for my first IVF cycle and on March 12th I had 21 mature eggs retrieved. 15 of them fertilized naturally and all grew for 5 days to the blastocyst stage. On March 17th I had two blasts transferred and the other 13 were frozen. Then after what felt like the longest and scariest 2ww of my life, I went in for my beta on March 27th. The nurse called within hours to inform me that I was in fact pregnant with an hCG level of 235. It was the one of the most wonderful moments in my life, but the joy was short lived.
My beta rose but did not double for two of the following tests. Finally after an agonizing week of worry, it rose to well above where it should be and my first ultrasound was scheduled. At the appointment I should have been about 6 weeks along, but when my RE looked he could only find small bits of debris in an otherwise empty gestational sac. Another beta, another rise, so another ultrasound just to check again with the hope that there was a late implantation. Another week of worry and waiting. The next ultrasound on April 16th revealed a bigger, but still mostly empty sac and it was officially declared to be an early pregnancy failure and an impending miscarriage. I was told to stop all medications and come back for another beta to see if the numbers began dropping.
I went for the beta yesterday, April 20th, and being back in that office was a hell I could not wait to escape. Everything about being there reminded me of the pain of learning that the pregnancy I had finally achieved after 3 years of struggle was gone. As soon as I got outside I burst into sobs. When the office called me in the afternoon it was to inform me that my beta is still rising. So although we all know it is over, I have to go back this Friday, the 23rd for one more ultrasound. I dread that appointment and the pain of seeing the empty black hole inside my uterus again. This loss is a pain worse than anything I have ever known. I still can't believe that I had finally realized my dream only to have it all taken away. If infertility is unfair and painful, miscarriage in the midst of infertility can be pure torture.
I apologize for not having more messages of hope or optimism. It is just not a place that I have reached yet, the pain is still far too fresh. I promise I am usually a much more upbeat and optimistic person, and as such I find myself feeling guilty for not being more hopeful right now. I think once I get through the physical pregnancy and begin moving toward trying again, that the naturally happy me will begin to return. I do plan to go forward with a frozen embryo transfer once my body is ready so if you stick around there will be signs of hope and life again soon. My story is not over yet and I am not ready to give up on becoming a mom.
Thank you for stopping by, please feel free to poke around at my past posts and leave comments letting me know more about yourself. I hope to get to know even more wonderful bloggers this week and hear more about your stories.
These past few days since finding out my pregnancy is not viable have hands down been the hardest of my entire life and my emotions and thoughts have run the gamete and back again a thousand times. I am not yet ready to proclaim that I am "moving on" or "finding the silver lining" or even that I "have high hopes and faith for the future" because none of that is true. I am depressed, angry, utterly devastated and that does not even begin to cover it. There is so much about this whole thing that makes me want to scream, " It just isn't fair!" I have been waiting and trying for my miracle for so long. I have already shed so many tears, why do I deserve even more? When I learned that IVF was our only real option for a biological child, I dealt with many emotions but quickly became excited about the process. I was a model patient through the whole thing, taking meds & injections, attending weekly wandings, almost always with a smile on my face and hope in my heart. It felt good to think that after after nearly 3 years we had found a solution and would finally have our miracle.
The wait for my pregnancy test was agonizing and I have never experienced relief or joy like the moment I was told I was pregnant. It is a moment I will always remember but unfortunately, not one I will treasure. I just can't understand why this would happen, after so long and so much pain to finally have my dreams come true only to have it taken all away- it seems so cruel. And it makes me angry at the world. It is a pain far worse than if I had been told my pregnancy test was negative. There are many moments when I truly wish that is what had happened. I hate that I am still physically pregnant and still have to pee all the time and still get tired in the afternoon. My body still does not know what I know and is still going through the motions of pregnancy so the empty blackness in my uterus continues to grow, and with it grows the emptiness in my heart.
I have still hardly talked to any of my friends or family. I just don't feel ready and I don't know when I will. I don't want to talk to them about what is happening but I don't want to talk about anything else either. I am afraid of what they might say and how it might make me feel. I don't want to be cheered up or told any part of the "bright side" of this situation. I feel so disconnected from the people I care about and I fear that my relationships will never be the same again. I just can't relate to their lives right now and I know that they can't relate to mine.
I hate the rest of the world for continuing to turn while my world is falling apart. I hate that this is happening to me. I hate that I now I have so many memories, so many dates and moments that will forever be a source of pain rather than joy. I hate that I have still have yet to go through the physical loss and I fear that process. I hate that there is such a long wait until I can try again. I hate that I even have to try again. I hate that I will turn yet another year older before I hold my child in my arms. I hate how unfair this is. The worst part of these past few days is that all of these thoughts and more are never far away and they hit me with rapid fire. I have stages of numbness when I forget everything: the 3 year struggle, the tests, the drugs, the procedures, the blood work, the pregnancy, the loss, the emotions- all of it. But then everything suddenly washes over me all at once, and I feel crushed by the weight of it and all I can do is cry. This when the fears most often begin to creep in, especially the fear that I will struggle forever and that I will never be a mother.
I am so very grateful for my blog and twitter friends these past few days, especially those that have never stopped reminding me that they care and those that have shared their stories with me and let me know that I am not alone in my feelings. I am so sad that anyone else has ever had to experience this loss but I am eternally appreciative for the comfort and guidance I have been given by the survivors that came before me. I am also very grateful to my family and friends for understanding and respecting my space. I know that they are thinking of me and keeping me lovingly in their thoughts and it helps to know that.
I wish I could say that this was everything, that this post has allowed to to get all of the thoughts and emotions I am experiencing out, but the reality is there is so much more pain under the surface that I can't even begin to put words to. I know that I will heal with time. I know that these wounds won't always be as fresh and raw as they are now, but I also know that they will leave scars and this will forever be a part of me and my life. Even if I go on to birth 20 children, this will always be the very 1st time I was pregnant and it will always be a loss. There will always be pain from that. My soul is marked.
It is officially over. The RE confirmed today on ultrasound that the gestational sac has grown too large without any significant development of a yolk sac for this pregnancy to be viable. My heart is broken.
I can't begin to describe the pain both Chad and I are feeling. We are however very grateful to have each other and to have so many people that care and have already sent virtual hugs our way. Thank you so much for that and for your kindness during this past week of uncertainty.
I have a lot of sadness at this loss as well as a lot of fear about what is to come next and I will be back to blog more about these feelings soon. For now though, I am just going to hold my husband so that we may cry and grieve together.
