I’ve been wanting to write this for awhile but haven’t been able to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard as the case may be.
I’ve written about my last two miscarriages but in a different way. I’ve written more from the perspective of how I felt in the moment, the physical pain and the shock I was experiencing. Today, I’m going to write about my journey through infertility, loss and coping with the cards I’ve been dealt.
I never imagined I would have difficulty getting pregnant. I was more concerned about getting pregnant before I was ready. I also never thought having a miscarriage was possible. That’s not exactly a fair statement. I never even gave infertility or miscarrying consideration. It wasn’t something on my radar at all. Perhaps it should’ve been given some family history, but it wasn’t. I was living blissfully in the land of I’ll start a family when I’m ready and I’ll have two kids. Husband wants 4 but I want 2. He'll have to figure out how to give birth to the other 2 himself.
Now I’ve had three miscarriages. Three. Four pregnancies and three miscarriages. I’ve been told I cannot have more children. Well, actually, I can have more children but it would be a huge health risk and it could cause irreparable issues. How’s that for shitty? I do have the option of doing more costly fertility treatments. Actually having the egg fertilized in a petri dish and then planting it in my uterus. Sounds romantic, doesn't it? Even with that, there is a very slim chance my body would actually accept the egg and carry to term.
I’m often asked when we will have more children or some variation of that. It’s an innocent question and typical for society. The other day was the first time I answered with “We can’t.” I felt a little bad for the person asking as I could tell she felt bad and apologized. For me it was a stepping stone. I was finally able to verbally admit that I can’t. Failure is something hard for me. It’s easy to say this isn’t failure. There’s a gazillion reasons why you would be right. But for me it is failure. My body won’t do what I want it to. It doesn't matter what pills, exercise, food, wishing or demanding I do, my body just will not cooperate.
It's difficult when my son asks why he can't have a little brother or sister. He's so good with younger kids and he's asked for a sibling since he could talk. He's so loving and helpful and they all look up to him. How do you explain to a 10 year old that it just can't happen, that I'm truly sorry and it breaks my heart each time you ask. You can't. I have to recognize his feelings and try to put it in 10 year old terms that it's just not something Mommy can do and that adoption isn't something I'm ready for.
I never wanted him to be an only child. I am an only child and I long for the connection I see between siblings. It is truly something special. I didn't want him to ever have to navigate life alone. His Dad and I will not always be here. Hopefully it is many, many years before we leave him but someday we will.
When my husband first wanted to try infertility treatments, I fought him on it. I always believed that if we were meant to have more kids it would happen. That God would make it happen. We had many conversations on why we should do it and I listened to his many reasons and I agreed. Though I agreed, I still believed that when the time was right it would just happen. After many tears and devastating months of negative tests, I finally agreed to give it a try. It was not easy, it was a commitment, it was uncomfortable and my body still wasn't cooperating. It didn't produce enough even with the drugs and neither treatment resulted in a positive result. I was continually reminded of my inabilities.
It's so hard to let myself and my partner down month after month. It's devastating to read a negative result on a pregnancy test month after month for years. It got to where I didn't even want to have sex because if I wasn't, there was no possibility of getting pregnant which meant I couldn't let myself or my partner down. I do not recommend this way of thinking.
After my first miscarriage I was destroyed. I chose not to lean on anyone and only told those that knew I was pregnant. I didn't share much with friends and didn't talk about my feelings. I tried to grieve alone. I now see that as a mistake. I should have let someone be there for me. I should have let them hold me up because I could not hold myself. I was broken. I buried my feeling and pulled myself up by my bootstraps and tried to not think about it. I got very depressed but kept stuffing it down. Eventually I stuffed it far enough down that it wasn't constantly there yelling at me. It still affected me by leading to depression and other issues but it wasn't in my face anymore. It was behind the scenes pulling the strings.
It wasn't until my second miscarriage that I realized how much the first had affected me. By this time I had a couple of friends I told and tried to lean on. Neither of them had been through one and couldn't relate. They tried to be there for me but didn't know how. Who does? I've been through it and I still don't know what to say or do except to admit it sucks and it hurts and you will get through it. You'll never be the same but you will survive.
After each time, I didn't know how I would have the strength to try again. Not that we were actively trying to prevent pregnancy but in my mind we weren't trying to get pregnant either. I had no emotional strength left. I couldn't keep doing this. At some point I gave up. I don't know when exactly it was but it happened. I fell into an acceptance that this was my life and I could be ok with it. I write more about this and my ectopic pregnancy here.
I still get emails from a site I joined when I was pregnant with my son. I updated it when I was pregnant the second time and the third time. It kindly sends me updates on my child's birthday and information on their developmental stage. I'd go and delete my information from the site but I just can't bring myself to go to it. So, I just delete the emails, take a moment to reflect on my experiences and move on.
I still get a pain in my heart when I see a pregnant woman, a friend greets me with her exciting news or a small child is near. I recognize it but don't dwell on it. It doesn't mean I am any less happy for them it just means it affects me on multiple levels. I'm still healing from my three losses and I am forever changed. I'm stronger, smarter, braver and so much more than I ever believed I could be. I'll forever hold those three babies in my heart. I will never have a daughter to plan a wedding with, get a pedicure, and discuss her first love. What I do have is a son that lights up my world, gives the best hugs, whose laugh is contagious and is too smart for his (and my) own good.
So to you reading this, that either is or knows someone going through this type of loss. I urge you to let them know you are there. Make them a meal, take them a coffee or cookies or anything. Be an ear or a shoulder or just a person that is there. Hand them a Kleenex and make them feel comfortable being a crying mess. They may not feel like talking or even having anyone around but knowing you are willing is huge. You don't have to have "the right words" just be present. Be that person that says This sucks and I'm here for you.
Showing posts with label miscarriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label miscarriage. Show all posts
Saturday, March 15, 2014
Monday, September 16, 2013
Again
This is written as a first draft and I do not plan to edit it. It's the facts and exactly how I'm feeling. It doesn't paint a nice, perfect picture of me or the situation but it's honest and real.
September 5, 2013 I found out I was pregnant again. It was a surprise. After 10 years of testing every month, waiting in anticipation and hoping for the best I had given up. After multiple miscarriages, failed fertility treatments and emotional turmoil, I had accepted that I would be the mother to only one living child. I can't tell you the exact day or the moment I gave up but sometime over this year I accepted my fate of only having one child. I had found a happy place, not just content but happy with myself. I had a focus, a new goal. I was marathon training, taking care of myself and being the best me I could.
Then on Sept. 5, I became violently ill for about an hour and a half. After I was fine but exhausted. After two people hinted at pregnancy, I went to find a test. Imagine my shock when I didn't even know if I had any. This was so surprising as it had been an anchor for me for so long. I peed on it figuring it would be the same as usual and come up negative. SURPRISE the pregnancy line turned pink immediately. It was instant and it was bright. I was in total shock. I wasn't happy at first but sad. Extremely and overwhelmingly sad. I'd made all these plans, finally had started moving on with my life and planning the future. I wasn't tethered by the possibility of a pregnancy. I had stopped trying and it happened. I had actually done more than just stopped trying, I was actively trying NOT to get pregnant. When my husband arrived home, I told him almost immediately. He was so thrilled, he's wanted more children and hadn't given up. My tears hurt him. He understood my feelings and allowed me to have them without judgment but it hurt knowing he felt he had to hide his joy. I told him I was in a no win situation. If I miscarried again, it would hurt just as the others had but that I wasn't ready to have another. I had plans and goals I was working toward. The timing wasn't right. Our marriage, going through a rocky time, wasn't right. I felt selfish for feeling this way but it was honest.
The next day, I spent some time alone and came to terms with what was happening. Dare I say, I even became excited. I started thinking of the joys of pregnancy, the trial, and so much more. I was still reserved though - terrified that something could happen. I figured out that I was around 8 weeks. Though I thought I'd had two periods in Aug both weren't normal and after talking with my Naturopath, we doubted that either of them were a real period. I made an appointment with an OB based off her recommendation and was all set for Sept 10.
Saturday, Sept 7, I started spotting, it was dark and minimal. I became instantly scared, after all this is what happened the last two times. Through out the day, I experience mild cramping. We were scheduled to host a party at our house and tried to remain focused on it. There was plenty to do and I was able to space my trips to the bathroom. I become crazy about going to the bathroom and checking for blood. The spotting seemed to have stopped. YAY! I was able to enjoy the party and keep the fear at the back of my mind.
Sunday, Sept 8, my birthday! I wake up nervous but find no spotting from over night! YAY!! My husband and I go for a nice 4 mile walk where I experience some more light cramping low on my right but I figure that it's normal stretching or something. I have to wrap my mind around it somehow and make it ok. Upon returning to the house, I find that I've started spotting again. This causes me a huge amount of stress and I decide I want MY DAY to just involve relaxing and having family time.
Monday, I call the doctor regarding my appointment on Tuesday, I want to make sure I will have an ultrasound. My spotting has become more consistent and I'm a nervous wreck. The lady that answers the phone tells me no. I will not have an u/s as the tech is out until Wednesday. This unacceptable. I don't want an appointment where they'll just tell me I'm pregnant - I already know this. I decide to call the Dr. I had when I miscarried in 2010. They are able to fit me on Tues. too. It's a little later in the day but I am guaranteed an u/s! I spend the rest of the day resisting the urge to go to the restroom. I'm also fighting bouts of nausea and mild cramping discomfort. I'm wondering what is in my head and what's real.
Tuesday, will 2 o'clock ever get here?! Around 12 I tell my husband I can't be at the office any more. We need to go somewhere, anywhere to give me something else to focus on. My bleeding has slowly increased and I know something isn't right. I refuse to believe the worst until I'm told. So, we decide to go have a light lunch and wait out the time remaining. We get to the dr. appointment a few minutes early and then we wait. We wait some more and then a little more. Around 2:30, I finally get called back. They do the normal checking of vitals and prepare me for the u/s. Then they do the internal ultrasound and he tells me
the uterus is empty and shows no signs of pregnancy
my world stops
my tears roll slowly down my cheeks
He keeps talking and explaining to me everything I'm seeing, I don't really hear much. All I want to say is 'stop talking". I'm not pregnant but I know I was. I'm living another nightmare.
I snap back to reality when he tells me that it looks like I may have a ectopic pregnancy. That there is
blood in my abdomen and it appears there is something in my tube. He wants me to go to the hospital where they have better equipment and have another u/s done. He calls and makes the arrangements and we head over.
Yes, I have a tubal pregnancy. They can never be 100% positive but they believe it to be in the high 90s. I request to have the blood work done just in case. The dr. talks with me and decides to wait until the next morning to do the surgery. I don't appear to be in severe pain so he doesn't believe it will rupture while waiting just a few extra hours. The room he likes is available and we are scheduled for 10 am on Sept. 11. I am to arrive at 8 for prepping and he will see me in the morning.
I head home to spend time with my precious baby boy and explain to him that the baby isn't really a baby because it's growing in the wrong place.
I cry most of the evening until I fall asleep. I manage to get a good nights sleep but my heart aches.
I arrive at the hospital, they have issues putting the IV in my hand and end up putting it in my elbow. This is fine with me. I'd rather have it there anyway. I wish they'd figured that out before I ended up with a collapsed vein and a huge bruise on my hand.
I wake up in recovery with a lot less pain than expected. In fact, I'm more upset to come out of dreamland than I am at facing the pain. It was minimal. I stay in recovery a little longer than needed because they don't have a room for me. Eventually I get placed in a tiny, windowless and bathroomless corner room in CDU. The nurses are really busy and less than friendly. (Later that night, I did end up in a nice room, with a private bathroom and a beautiful view.) Eventually, my husband finds me and fills me on the surgery. It took longer than expected. He spent 2 hours working on me. When it's an easy case and all goes perfectly it only takes about 20 minutes. Most doctors would have cut me open but he didn't want to do that. He knows I'm a runner and going to have enough issues dealing with all that happened. He didn't want to make it worse on me. I have a lot of scar tissue from when I had my ovary removed and it made it hard for him to see what he was doing. Also, there is a layer of fat that is supposed to be over your bowels. Mine had adhered to my abdominal wall and was also blocking the view of my ovaries and tubes and working as a curtain. He placed it back in the correct area. It also turns out my pregnancy hormone level was at 7500 and not the 1-2000 as he'd expected. The tube was ruptured in two place and anyone else would've been in the ER days earlier. I had tons of blood in my abdomen. I'm lucky it wasn't worse and that I had the u/s when I did. Apparently, I have a high pain tolerance. He did have to remove the tube. The embryo was not viable but the placenta was still growing. He believes he got everything but I will need to continue having blood tests until the levels get to 0. I am also advised to not get pregnant naturally. I'm at extremely high risk of this happening again and it could be worse next time. He says, I should have no problems carrying a baby but need help getting it to my uterus. He recommends fertility treatment and then having surgery to remove my other tube. I was also told that it's no longer considered out patient surgery, due to it being more extensive and that I should stay the night so they can keep an eye on me and get my nausea and pain under control.
This is all so crazy to me. I finally get my my body where it doesn't attack a pregnancy to only end up here.
I'm at a loss and a bit of an emotional wreck. I'm so conflicted and terrified of slipping into a depression. I've worked so hard to get to where I was. These set-backs scare me. Top all of this with the inability to work out for 2 weeks and no running for a month. Even when I am allowed to come back, I have to do it minimally with a max of 50% of my norm. The biggest issue with working out/running isn't the ground I will lose physically (though it is a concern) but that it's how I stay sane. It gives me clarity. I've now decided to switch my marathon to a half. This makes me sad but with all the challenges I've faced, I don't believe I can be marathon ready. I'm sure I could complete it but not with it being fun. I want it to be fun and a challenge.
So, I just keep laying here. Wallowing in my self-pity without the emotional strength to even think of facing a day outside of bed. I know, I'll over come this, I'm just scared of how far I will sink before I come back. I am soo scared of falling back into the hole I was in before. I keep telling myself I'm not that person any more and I am so much stronger. I do feel stronger than the last time. I also have more support. I'm trying to accept this as normal grieving and necessary. Hopefully, I come back stronger and braver than ever. I never believed I could face another miscarriage and survive. I faced something worse this time and I'm still here to write about it. Hopefully, some day I look back and gain strength from this struggle.
September 5, 2013 I found out I was pregnant again. It was a surprise. After 10 years of testing every month, waiting in anticipation and hoping for the best I had given up. After multiple miscarriages, failed fertility treatments and emotional turmoil, I had accepted that I would be the mother to only one living child. I can't tell you the exact day or the moment I gave up but sometime over this year I accepted my fate of only having one child. I had found a happy place, not just content but happy with myself. I had a focus, a new goal. I was marathon training, taking care of myself and being the best me I could.
Then on Sept. 5, I became violently ill for about an hour and a half. After I was fine but exhausted. After two people hinted at pregnancy, I went to find a test. Imagine my shock when I didn't even know if I had any. This was so surprising as it had been an anchor for me for so long. I peed on it figuring it would be the same as usual and come up negative. SURPRISE the pregnancy line turned pink immediately. It was instant and it was bright. I was in total shock. I wasn't happy at first but sad. Extremely and overwhelmingly sad. I'd made all these plans, finally had started moving on with my life and planning the future. I wasn't tethered by the possibility of a pregnancy. I had stopped trying and it happened. I had actually done more than just stopped trying, I was actively trying NOT to get pregnant. When my husband arrived home, I told him almost immediately. He was so thrilled, he's wanted more children and hadn't given up. My tears hurt him. He understood my feelings and allowed me to have them without judgment but it hurt knowing he felt he had to hide his joy. I told him I was in a no win situation. If I miscarried again, it would hurt just as the others had but that I wasn't ready to have another. I had plans and goals I was working toward. The timing wasn't right. Our marriage, going through a rocky time, wasn't right. I felt selfish for feeling this way but it was honest.
The next day, I spent some time alone and came to terms with what was happening. Dare I say, I even became excited. I started thinking of the joys of pregnancy, the trial, and so much more. I was still reserved though - terrified that something could happen. I figured out that I was around 8 weeks. Though I thought I'd had two periods in Aug both weren't normal and after talking with my Naturopath, we doubted that either of them were a real period. I made an appointment with an OB based off her recommendation and was all set for Sept 10.
Saturday, Sept 7, I started spotting, it was dark and minimal. I became instantly scared, after all this is what happened the last two times. Through out the day, I experience mild cramping. We were scheduled to host a party at our house and tried to remain focused on it. There was plenty to do and I was able to space my trips to the bathroom. I become crazy about going to the bathroom and checking for blood. The spotting seemed to have stopped. YAY! I was able to enjoy the party and keep the fear at the back of my mind.
Sunday, Sept 8, my birthday! I wake up nervous but find no spotting from over night! YAY!! My husband and I go for a nice 4 mile walk where I experience some more light cramping low on my right but I figure that it's normal stretching or something. I have to wrap my mind around it somehow and make it ok. Upon returning to the house, I find that I've started spotting again. This causes me a huge amount of stress and I decide I want MY DAY to just involve relaxing and having family time.
Monday, I call the doctor regarding my appointment on Tuesday, I want to make sure I will have an ultrasound. My spotting has become more consistent and I'm a nervous wreck. The lady that answers the phone tells me no. I will not have an u/s as the tech is out until Wednesday. This unacceptable. I don't want an appointment where they'll just tell me I'm pregnant - I already know this. I decide to call the Dr. I had when I miscarried in 2010. They are able to fit me on Tues. too. It's a little later in the day but I am guaranteed an u/s! I spend the rest of the day resisting the urge to go to the restroom. I'm also fighting bouts of nausea and mild cramping discomfort. I'm wondering what is in my head and what's real.
Tuesday, will 2 o'clock ever get here?! Around 12 I tell my husband I can't be at the office any more. We need to go somewhere, anywhere to give me something else to focus on. My bleeding has slowly increased and I know something isn't right. I refuse to believe the worst until I'm told. So, we decide to go have a light lunch and wait out the time remaining. We get to the dr. appointment a few minutes early and then we wait. We wait some more and then a little more. Around 2:30, I finally get called back. They do the normal checking of vitals and prepare me for the u/s. Then they do the internal ultrasound and he tells me
the uterus is empty and shows no signs of pregnancy
my world stops
my tears roll slowly down my cheeks
He keeps talking and explaining to me everything I'm seeing, I don't really hear much. All I want to say is 'stop talking". I'm not pregnant but I know I was. I'm living another nightmare.
I snap back to reality when he tells me that it looks like I may have a ectopic pregnancy. That there is
blood in my abdomen and it appears there is something in my tube. He wants me to go to the hospital where they have better equipment and have another u/s done. He calls and makes the arrangements and we head over.
Yes, I have a tubal pregnancy. They can never be 100% positive but they believe it to be in the high 90s. I request to have the blood work done just in case. The dr. talks with me and decides to wait until the next morning to do the surgery. I don't appear to be in severe pain so he doesn't believe it will rupture while waiting just a few extra hours. The room he likes is available and we are scheduled for 10 am on Sept. 11. I am to arrive at 8 for prepping and he will see me in the morning.
I head home to spend time with my precious baby boy and explain to him that the baby isn't really a baby because it's growing in the wrong place.
I cry most of the evening until I fall asleep. I manage to get a good nights sleep but my heart aches.
I arrive at the hospital, they have issues putting the IV in my hand and end up putting it in my elbow. This is fine with me. I'd rather have it there anyway. I wish they'd figured that out before I ended up with a collapsed vein and a huge bruise on my hand.
I wake up in recovery with a lot less pain than expected. In fact, I'm more upset to come out of dreamland than I am at facing the pain. It was minimal. I stay in recovery a little longer than needed because they don't have a room for me. Eventually I get placed in a tiny, windowless and bathroomless corner room in CDU. The nurses are really busy and less than friendly. (Later that night, I did end up in a nice room, with a private bathroom and a beautiful view.) Eventually, my husband finds me and fills me on the surgery. It took longer than expected. He spent 2 hours working on me. When it's an easy case and all goes perfectly it only takes about 20 minutes. Most doctors would have cut me open but he didn't want to do that. He knows I'm a runner and going to have enough issues dealing with all that happened. He didn't want to make it worse on me. I have a lot of scar tissue from when I had my ovary removed and it made it hard for him to see what he was doing. Also, there is a layer of fat that is supposed to be over your bowels. Mine had adhered to my abdominal wall and was also blocking the view of my ovaries and tubes and working as a curtain. He placed it back in the correct area. It also turns out my pregnancy hormone level was at 7500 and not the 1-2000 as he'd expected. The tube was ruptured in two place and anyone else would've been in the ER days earlier. I had tons of blood in my abdomen. I'm lucky it wasn't worse and that I had the u/s when I did. Apparently, I have a high pain tolerance. He did have to remove the tube. The embryo was not viable but the placenta was still growing. He believes he got everything but I will need to continue having blood tests until the levels get to 0. I am also advised to not get pregnant naturally. I'm at extremely high risk of this happening again and it could be worse next time. He says, I should have no problems carrying a baby but need help getting it to my uterus. He recommends fertility treatment and then having surgery to remove my other tube. I was also told that it's no longer considered out patient surgery, due to it being more extensive and that I should stay the night so they can keep an eye on me and get my nausea and pain under control.
This is all so crazy to me. I finally get my my body where it doesn't attack a pregnancy to only end up here.
I'm at a loss and a bit of an emotional wreck. I'm so conflicted and terrified of slipping into a depression. I've worked so hard to get to where I was. These set-backs scare me. Top all of this with the inability to work out for 2 weeks and no running for a month. Even when I am allowed to come back, I have to do it minimally with a max of 50% of my norm. The biggest issue with working out/running isn't the ground I will lose physically (though it is a concern) but that it's how I stay sane. It gives me clarity. I've now decided to switch my marathon to a half. This makes me sad but with all the challenges I've faced, I don't believe I can be marathon ready. I'm sure I could complete it but not with it being fun. I want it to be fun and a challenge.
So, I just keep laying here. Wallowing in my self-pity without the emotional strength to even think of facing a day outside of bed. I know, I'll over come this, I'm just scared of how far I will sink before I come back. I am soo scared of falling back into the hole I was in before. I keep telling myself I'm not that person any more and I am so much stronger. I do feel stronger than the last time. I also have more support. I'm trying to accept this as normal grieving and necessary. Hopefully, I come back stronger and braver than ever. I never believed I could face another miscarriage and survive. I faced something worse this time and I'm still here to write about it. Hopefully, some day I look back and gain strength from this struggle.
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