Recently, some people have been (gently) pushing me to make my blog public. The thought of this terrifies me. I love reading other people's blogs and am amazed at their openness and honesty. I've not really changed my opinion of these people, but I certainly see them clearer. Publicly owning your thoughts makes you vulnerable and being vulnerable isn't something I embrace. Actually, it scares the shit out of me.
I'd love to have thousands of followers and still keep my anonymity. I mean, I love my 3 followers, but more the merrier, right?! I know some will appreciate my writing and some won’t. That's life. Let's face it, in real life I'm not everyone's cup of tea. It certainly won’t be any different in blog world. So what to do? Face my fear? Wait until I'm 100% ready? As if, that'll ever happen.
I've read over my previous posts and try to think about all my friends, acquaintances, etc reading them. My family would be shocked, by some, and some friends would judge. Of course, part of what I've been working on is not caring what other's think and just embracing me in all my uniqueness. I'm guessing that the friends that judge aren't really close friends otherwise, they'd already know everything.
It's interesting that every time I think of being judged, two people in particular stand out. Both are the sweetest, most supportive people to your face but the moment you turn around, they've got a comment or some sort of negative insert. No one is safe from their lashing. It makes me wonder how people can act that way. I don't understand it, maybe never will. I'm typically the type that will tell you what I think to your face or just keep my mouth shut. I don't like pretending. This is probably the reason I am so polarizing. People, love me or hate me, it seems. But people flock to the two women I mentioned. I mean flock! I'm not sure if it's because they are so out going, seem so supportive, or what the reason. I'm baffled.
People do not flock to me. Perhaps, my insecurities cause me to come across as snobbish or unfriendly. Perhaps, it's all me and not others. Maybe I'm putting out to the universe what I feel inside and therefore cause that reaction. I'd love to be one of those people that others flock to but not sure how to become that. I know when I have enough alcohol I feel that way. Perhaps it's because I let down my walls and just have fun without worry of judgment.
Oh what to do... perhaps I'll be struck with a bolt of courage and will share this publicly. Perhaps I'll realize to really be me; I have to do bulldoze this wall. Perhaps I'll get drunk and share it with the world. Perhaps I'll just slam the door closed. For now, I will leave the internal debate for another day and will go reheat my tea.
Friday, January 10, 2014
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Helping
I love to volunteer for things. Love it. I'm often told I don't know how to say no. Those people obviously don't know my husband. He'll be the first to say I do know how and use it often.
I'm almost always the first one to jump in and offer to help. Occasionally, this gets me in over my head. Sometimes, I have to sit on my hands so I don't embrace a new opportunity. I've always enjoyed helping. I'm a people pleaser. Yep, there it is in b&W just in case you haven't figured it out. When I am able to help people I feel better about myself. I feel fulfilled. Who doesn't want that?
I've held a lot of different official volunteer positions. Some I enjoyed, some not so much. Some left me feeling like I made a difference, some left me exhausted.
In 2012 I found my volunteer home. I had been interested in becoming an advocate with the local rape crisis center for years but the stars didn't align until March of 2012. It seemed like it was going to be perfect, I remembered to call and express my interest prior to the start date of the new certification class. This was the first sign that things were right. Over the previous few years, I seemed to always call mid session. Next, I answered my phone when they returned my call. That is an amazing feat in itself. I despise answering my phone. I absolutely refuse when I don't know the number. I managed to complete the application, opening up about my past and figuring out references that would build me up as professional, helpful, considerate and strong (stable). Then, lastly, I made myself available for the nearly 50 hours of certification. Yes, I now hold the esteemed title of Sexual Assault Counselor! I'm kind of amazing, in case you didn't know. I even have a certificate to prove it.
Then it came time for me to start taking shifts. This is when the self-doubt kicked in. The negative talk that I couldn't do it. That I wouldn't make a difference in the peoples lives. That I would fail so I should give up. Well, you know what; I didn't listen to that voice. I had many talks with it telling it to shut it and that all would be fine. I would lean on my training and I would do a good job. I would make a difference. I would help someone going through a living hell and that we'd both come out better for it. And you know what, I have. We have.
I've helped at least a dozen people through one of the worst experiences in their life. I've held their hand, wiped tears, laughed, reminded them how brave/strong/amazing they are and comforted them. I've seen them go from distraught and devastated to being able to smile and hug me. Telling me they couldn't have made it through the process with out me. Something happens during those hours that bonds us. We may never see each other again but we've touched each others lives. I walk away a little different, a little better because of them. They walk away knowing they can keep going and that this event, as horrible as it is, does not define them. I always leave feeling like I could have done just a little more but I also leave feeling fulfilled. I hate that these men, women, children have gone through this. I wish we could eradicate sexual assault. Until that happens, I'm glad that they have someone, like me, standing by their side, focused only on them, giving them back control and helping them to start rebuilding. I believe everyone needs someone in their corner and I am happy to be standing there, holding them up while they regain their composure and realize just how strong and brave they truly are.
I'm almost always the first one to jump in and offer to help. Occasionally, this gets me in over my head. Sometimes, I have to sit on my hands so I don't embrace a new opportunity. I've always enjoyed helping. I'm a people pleaser. Yep, there it is in b&W just in case you haven't figured it out. When I am able to help people I feel better about myself. I feel fulfilled. Who doesn't want that?
I've held a lot of different official volunteer positions. Some I enjoyed, some not so much. Some left me feeling like I made a difference, some left me exhausted.
In 2012 I found my volunteer home. I had been interested in becoming an advocate with the local rape crisis center for years but the stars didn't align until March of 2012. It seemed like it was going to be perfect, I remembered to call and express my interest prior to the start date of the new certification class. This was the first sign that things were right. Over the previous few years, I seemed to always call mid session. Next, I answered my phone when they returned my call. That is an amazing feat in itself. I despise answering my phone. I absolutely refuse when I don't know the number. I managed to complete the application, opening up about my past and figuring out references that would build me up as professional, helpful, considerate and strong (stable). Then, lastly, I made myself available for the nearly 50 hours of certification. Yes, I now hold the esteemed title of Sexual Assault Counselor! I'm kind of amazing, in case you didn't know. I even have a certificate to prove it.
Then it came time for me to start taking shifts. This is when the self-doubt kicked in. The negative talk that I couldn't do it. That I wouldn't make a difference in the peoples lives. That I would fail so I should give up. Well, you know what; I didn't listen to that voice. I had many talks with it telling it to shut it and that all would be fine. I would lean on my training and I would do a good job. I would make a difference. I would help someone going through a living hell and that we'd both come out better for it. And you know what, I have. We have.
I've helped at least a dozen people through one of the worst experiences in their life. I've held their hand, wiped tears, laughed, reminded them how brave/strong/amazing they are and comforted them. I've seen them go from distraught and devastated to being able to smile and hug me. Telling me they couldn't have made it through the process with out me. Something happens during those hours that bonds us. We may never see each other again but we've touched each others lives. I walk away a little different, a little better because of them. They walk away knowing they can keep going and that this event, as horrible as it is, does not define them. I always leave feeling like I could have done just a little more but I also leave feeling fulfilled. I hate that these men, women, children have gone through this. I wish we could eradicate sexual assault. Until that happens, I'm glad that they have someone, like me, standing by their side, focused only on them, giving them back control and helping them to start rebuilding. I believe everyone needs someone in their corner and I am happy to be standing there, holding them up while they regain their composure and realize just how strong and brave they truly are.
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Writer?
I've been compiling a list of topics for blogging. As I was skimming the list and adding to it, I read a line - shit, I'm not. It wasn't written to stand alone, it actually came at the end of a sentence. However, when I read it, there it was screaming at me. I got to thinking. What am I and what am I not. On the surface this seems an easy question. I'm a mother, wife, daughter, friend, volunteer and employee, and much more. I wear many hats but those are just labels. Why do we feel the need to label ourselves? Why can't we just be. Perhaps this will be a topic for a future blog. I certainly have a lot to say on it.
Moving along, to what I'm not. I am not a writer but I want to be. I am not an overly attentive mother but I have a healthy balance. I am not domestic but I cook and clean on occasion.
I have always loved writing. I used to write short stories and poems. I was once published. It was a small book that was compiled from items submitted through the local schools in my home town. Not everyone was chosen and I felt incredibly honored. I may have only been around 13 but I still remember it as a highlight of my young life. I've always wanted to be recognized as a writer but have never taken the risk, except that once. It was a poem about the loss of my grandmother. It walked the reader through our relationship, how she didn't acknowledge me and how I didn't realize how much I loved her or what I meant to her until she died. The way it was written was as if I could be talking about anyone. Many related to it because they could put it into the context of a failed relationship with a significant other. It was sad and an outpouring straight from my heart. I remember the morning I wrote it. It was shortly after she passed away. I awoke with it running through my body with the need to be released. With tears streaming down my face I let my fingers talk. It took about 15 minutes to write and it has always been one of my favorites.
I remember others coming up to me and telling me how much they loved it. How it seemed to have been written just for them. That I put their thoughts into words. How it made them cry. I loved the feeling this gave me. Doesn't every writer hope to give their reader that connection?
Maybe I am a writer after all. Maybe I just haven't nestled into that hat yet.
Someday I will be published again.
Moving along, to what I'm not. I am not a writer but I want to be. I am not an overly attentive mother but I have a healthy balance. I am not domestic but I cook and clean on occasion.
I have always loved writing. I used to write short stories and poems. I was once published. It was a small book that was compiled from items submitted through the local schools in my home town. Not everyone was chosen and I felt incredibly honored. I may have only been around 13 but I still remember it as a highlight of my young life. I've always wanted to be recognized as a writer but have never taken the risk, except that once. It was a poem about the loss of my grandmother. It walked the reader through our relationship, how she didn't acknowledge me and how I didn't realize how much I loved her or what I meant to her until she died. The way it was written was as if I could be talking about anyone. Many related to it because they could put it into the context of a failed relationship with a significant other. It was sad and an outpouring straight from my heart. I remember the morning I wrote it. It was shortly after she passed away. I awoke with it running through my body with the need to be released. With tears streaming down my face I let my fingers talk. It took about 15 minutes to write and it has always been one of my favorites.
I remember others coming up to me and telling me how much they loved it. How it seemed to have been written just for them. That I put their thoughts into words. How it made them cry. I loved the feeling this gave me. Doesn't every writer hope to give their reader that connection?
Maybe I am a writer after all. Maybe I just haven't nestled into that hat yet.
Someday I will be published again.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Silence
They say silence is golden. I don't know who the fuck they are but I guess to some it is. Personally, I do not appreciate it. I always find myself needing to fill it with something. I will turn on the TV, music, read... At night is when I have the most difficult time with this. I cannot go to bed and lay there peacefully while I drift off. I must read until my kindle hits me in the face or watch mind numbing television until I drift off.
I've heard people say those that can't be alone with themselves can't face their thoughts. Perhaps this is true. I have so many things running through my mind that I often have difficulty navigating them. It's like the marquee at the stock market. Having some kind of background noise helps me to organize my thoughts and reach conclusions. It seems it would be counter productive but it works.
Today, I decided to try and embrace the silence. After all this year is about change. Don't worry I'm not going to discuss that again. I think I've covered it ad nauseam. I've set myself up well to try this. I live on a ranch with only 1 neighbor. Today they are out of town and my family is out and about doing their own thing. The only noise is the occasional car, the dogs snoring and a couple of annoying flies that will soon die. I have my cup of coffee, warm blanket and my phone on silent. I've set myself up well. If you build it, they will come is what comes to mind. Just sitting here describing it makes my heart race a little. That may seem insane, maybe it is. Being alone with oneself is not an easy thing. You are forced to look inside. My first thought is Ok, what do I think about. I want it to be profound have that AH HA moment- an epiphany. I can't force this. I can't will it to happen. I can hope and allow my mind to wander. I can feel it building. I know I am right on the verge of the clarity I seek.
For now I will leave you. I am going to sit with cup in hand and stare out my large bay window at the gorgeous oak tree in my yard. Allow my mind to do what it will. If nothing else, I will allow the beauty to sink in and enjoy the sun upon my face.
I've heard people say those that can't be alone with themselves can't face their thoughts. Perhaps this is true. I have so many things running through my mind that I often have difficulty navigating them. It's like the marquee at the stock market. Having some kind of background noise helps me to organize my thoughts and reach conclusions. It seems it would be counter productive but it works.
Today, I decided to try and embrace the silence. After all this year is about change. Don't worry I'm not going to discuss that again. I think I've covered it ad nauseam. I've set myself up well to try this. I live on a ranch with only 1 neighbor. Today they are out of town and my family is out and about doing their own thing. The only noise is the occasional car, the dogs snoring and a couple of annoying flies that will soon die. I have my cup of coffee, warm blanket and my phone on silent. I've set myself up well. If you build it, they will come is what comes to mind. Just sitting here describing it makes my heart race a little. That may seem insane, maybe it is. Being alone with oneself is not an easy thing. You are forced to look inside. My first thought is Ok, what do I think about. I want it to be profound have that AH HA moment- an epiphany. I can't force this. I can't will it to happen. I can hope and allow my mind to wander. I can feel it building. I know I am right on the verge of the clarity I seek.
For now I will leave you. I am going to sit with cup in hand and stare out my large bay window at the gorgeous oak tree in my yard. Allow my mind to do what it will. If nothing else, I will allow the beauty to sink in and enjoy the sun upon my face.
Saturday, November 9, 2013
Change
I've learned some things about myself the last few days. I can forgive and move on. I can actually feel sorry for someone who intentionally set out to harm me. Recently, someone did some horrible things to my family and to me specifically. At first I was so angry that I wanted to lash out, harm him and tell everyone what a vile being he is. Alas, I did not and I am a better person for it. I actually pitty him. How sad it must be to live your life with the need to hurt others.
This entire ordeal made me realize how much I've changed. Call it maturity, growing-up, inner peace, whatever. I actually feel the change in me. I feel the peace washing over me. I'm getting to the place I've been working toward this entire year. A place of accepting myself and others. It's been a long road but worth every bump along the way.
I'm preparing to say hello to 2014. I have even bigger hopes and dreams for the upcoming year. It will be another year filled with change. Change, like everything should happen in steps. This year was about the emotional and physical. Next year will be about a different kind of change. A change that never could happen with out all I achieved in 2013. I will be taking a leap of faith- in myself. A year ago, I would never have had this courage. It is still scary for me. I have some self-doubt but I also know if I'm willing to do the work, I will be successful. I am still afraid of failure but I'm more afraid of not trying. It's as if a switch as been moved inside me and I'm ready to conquer. You, my friends, should be prepared because I'm about to achieve greatness.
This entire ordeal made me realize how much I've changed. Call it maturity, growing-up, inner peace, whatever. I actually feel the change in me. I feel the peace washing over me. I'm getting to the place I've been working toward this entire year. A place of accepting myself and others. It's been a long road but worth every bump along the way.
I'm preparing to say hello to 2014. I have even bigger hopes and dreams for the upcoming year. It will be another year filled with change. Change, like everything should happen in steps. This year was about the emotional and physical. Next year will be about a different kind of change. A change that never could happen with out all I achieved in 2013. I will be taking a leap of faith- in myself. A year ago, I would never have had this courage. It is still scary for me. I have some self-doubt but I also know if I'm willing to do the work, I will be successful. I am still afraid of failure but I'm more afraid of not trying. It's as if a switch as been moved inside me and I'm ready to conquer. You, my friends, should be prepared because I'm about to achieve greatness.
Friday, October 25, 2013
Perseverence
I had the most amazing day on Sunday, October 20, 2013. I ran in the Nike Women's Half Marathon San Francisco. It was an amazing race and meant so much to me. I remember the day I found out that I had been one of the lucky few chosen. I was elated but nothing would've prepared me for how much this race would come to mean to me. To me this race was closure for the rough month I'd experienced. It represented my strength, determination and ability to persevere. It proved to me that I am able to do whatever I decide to. It also showed me that I am my own worst critic and have the least faith in myself.
I cried several times over that 13.1 miles. I cried for the baby I lost. I cried for the part of me that died with it. I cried for my son, husband and for the hurt. I also cried because I was doing it. I was running this half marathon. To me it represented my strength and perseverance. It represented how I will not let all the BS life throws at me conquer me. I will overcome all challenges and stand above them with my hands raised saying I CAN DO IT AND NOTHING WILL STOP ME.
I cried several times over that 13.1 miles. I cried for the baby I lost. I cried for the part of me that died with it. I cried for my son, husband and for the hurt. I also cried because I was doing it. I was running this half marathon. To me it represented my strength and perseverance. It represented how I will not let all the BS life throws at me conquer me. I will overcome all challenges and stand above them with my hands raised saying I CAN DO IT AND NOTHING WILL STOP ME.
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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