Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.
I will be thinking of what could have, what should have been. I'll never know who they would have been, what they would have looked like, whose nose they would have had. I don't know who I would have been if they hadn't been in my life, however briefly.
Please light a candle at 7pm tonight. I will. I'll be thinking of all of our lost children, all of that possibility and promise. And hoping, against hope, that I don't lose this pregnancy as well.
Showing posts with label pregnant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnant. Show all posts
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
the good/the bad
the good: Beta #2: 32
So, that's pretty ok. Also, spotting is pretty diminished right now, and I nearly ralphed four times this morning.
The bad: progesterone was down to 7, from 64 at my day 21 check. Fuck.
I get to go see the vampires again on Friday, and if the hcg is good-ish, I'll have an ultrasound next week. My doctor is probably worried about another ectopic. I'm worried about another ectopic. He said we'll just have to watch this one very closely.
I feel oddly detached at the moment. I am afraid to hope, to plan, to even think about it, which is odd because I usually consult Dr. Google about everything pregnancy/miscarriage related. I'm pretty stressed and could really use a glass of wine right now. Or some Southern Comfort. I'm glad, though, that for the moment I can't indulge.
Off to try to nap.
So, that's pretty ok. Also, spotting is pretty diminished right now, and I nearly ralphed four times this morning.
The bad: progesterone was down to 7, from 64 at my day 21 check. Fuck.
I get to go see the vampires again on Friday, and if the hcg is good-ish, I'll have an ultrasound next week. My doctor is probably worried about another ectopic. I'm worried about another ectopic. He said we'll just have to watch this one very closely.
I feel oddly detached at the moment. I am afraid to hope, to plan, to even think about it, which is odd because I usually consult Dr. Google about everything pregnancy/miscarriage related. I'm pretty stressed and could really use a glass of wine right now. Or some Southern Comfort. I'm glad, though, that for the moment I can't indulge.
Off to try to nap.
Monday, October 12, 2009
the waiting game
Beta #1: a thoroughly unimpressive 17. I have been spotting, off and on (mostly on) since yesterday. There is a tiny flicker of hope in my heart - amazing, huh? - but I feel as if the writing is on the wall. Only time will tell.
I keep trying to tell myself to stay positive, because even if I do lose this one too, this baby deserves a happy home for whatever time it has left before the utesaurus rears it's ugly head. I am struggling. I took the day off today to process (um, cry at will). I did not have the strength to lift the mask of my public persona, and hold it in place all day. Surely, I would have been crushed to rubble beneath it.
I have so much that I want to write, but I cannot right now. I am still processing, still considering where my path will lead if this pregnancy fails. The critters await feeding time (yeah, I get to take care of my in-law's dog - in addition to my own two - this week, while they are travelling to visit their living grandchild, and I am most likely miscarrying. Good times). Laundry must be done, the kitchen cleaned. Life goes on, even when the thrill of living is gone.
Wednesday cannot come quickly enough.
Oh, and thank you all for the kind comments after my last post. You truly have no idea how much they mean to me, you "strangers". Thank you all.
I keep trying to tell myself to stay positive, because even if I do lose this one too, this baby deserves a happy home for whatever time it has left before the utesaurus rears it's ugly head. I am struggling. I took the day off today to process (um, cry at will). I did not have the strength to lift the mask of my public persona, and hold it in place all day. Surely, I would have been crushed to rubble beneath it.
I have so much that I want to write, but I cannot right now. I am still processing, still considering where my path will lead if this pregnancy fails. The critters await feeding time (yeah, I get to take care of my in-law's dog - in addition to my own two - this week, while they are travelling to visit their living grandchild, and I am most likely miscarrying. Good times). Laundry must be done, the kitchen cleaned. Life goes on, even when the thrill of living is gone.
Wednesday cannot come quickly enough.
Oh, and thank you all for the kind comments after my last post. You truly have no idea how much they mean to me, you "strangers". Thank you all.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
this is not a frakking hallmark moment.....
or, the post in which I announce that I am pregnant for the seventh time.
And that, just after I saw the word "pregnant" pop up on the digital screen, I wiped and came up with pink toilet paper. The morning urine giveth, the morning urine taketh away.
I know better than to hope, but I do. I hope. And I am happy, although it is a happiness tempered by fear, by doubt, by experience. But I am pregnant - today anyway - and today, I will enjoy it.
If this little bean sticks around - please, please, a million times please - my due date will pretty much be our seventh anniversary. The seventh pregnancy - please don't take this one too, universe. I have paid my dues, and then some.
And for all of my talk about not believing in god, I find myself praying to something, someone, the universe. I guess I'm in my own particular foxhole now.
Oh, and the topper? Hubby leaves tomorrow for a week halfway across the country. I will be alone if/when I find out that my betas aren't rising. I may need some serious handholding this week, ladies.
And that, just after I saw the word "pregnant" pop up on the digital screen, I wiped and came up with pink toilet paper. The morning urine giveth, the morning urine taketh away.
I know better than to hope, but I do. I hope. And I am happy, although it is a happiness tempered by fear, by doubt, by experience. But I am pregnant - today anyway - and today, I will enjoy it.
If this little bean sticks around - please, please, a million times please - my due date will pretty much be our seventh anniversary. The seventh pregnancy - please don't take this one too, universe. I have paid my dues, and then some.
And for all of my talk about not believing in god, I find myself praying to something, someone, the universe. I guess I'm in my own particular foxhole now.
Oh, and the topper? Hubby leaves tomorrow for a week halfway across the country. I will be alone if/when I find out that my betas aren't rising. I may need some serious handholding this week, ladies.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
If you're visiting from ICLW...
hi. Thanks for stopping by. I didn't do this last month, which was my first time participating, so I thought I'd fill you in on some of our journey.
We first got pregnant in December 2005. We didn't exactly plan it, but we weren't using birth control either, so we were pretty excited. Then the nightmare began. I spotted almost the entire time, and my doctor (the quack) assumed it had to be an ectopic, and gave me methotrexate to end the pregnancy. I didn't question her at the time, but now that I know a little more I would have waited before treatment.
We got preggo pretty quickly after that for the second and third times, even though I had such bad bleeding/cramping with each that I had no idea that I was pregnant. We were trying, though, and I was waiting to ovulate so I knew something was up. With each, the betas were rising, but a bit more slowly than they should have, before they stopped. Empty uterus on the ultrasounds. Empty heart as well.
Number 4 was kind of a blur, but similar to 2 and 3. After this loss, I was finally diagnosed with anticardiolipin antibodies, and prescribed a daily mega dose of folic acid, baby aspirin, and progesterone and lovenox upon confirmation of the next pregnancy. All other fertility tests came back fine.
Number 5, 15 months after number 4, sucked ass. The scenario was similar to the previous pregnancies (bleeding/cramping and negative hpts, which made me think I had gotten AF, before finally getting a positive). After much bloodwork, and pleading with the RE, I got an early appointment for an ultrasound. I just KNEW something wasn't right, and sure enough, little cletus the fetus had parked his ass in my fallopian tube. Surgery and massive doses of painkillers ensued. I became pretty depressed after this loss, and considered giving up trying.
And now, six months later, here we go again. This seems different, though, so maybe we'll actually end up with a kid in 36 weeks or so. Or maybe we'll discover another new and horrifying way to experience pregnancy loss.
Only time will tell.
We first got pregnant in December 2005. We didn't exactly plan it, but we weren't using birth control either, so we were pretty excited. Then the nightmare began. I spotted almost the entire time, and my doctor (the quack) assumed it had to be an ectopic, and gave me methotrexate to end the pregnancy. I didn't question her at the time, but now that I know a little more I would have waited before treatment.
We got preggo pretty quickly after that for the second and third times, even though I had such bad bleeding/cramping with each that I had no idea that I was pregnant. We were trying, though, and I was waiting to ovulate so I knew something was up. With each, the betas were rising, but a bit more slowly than they should have, before they stopped. Empty uterus on the ultrasounds. Empty heart as well.
Number 4 was kind of a blur, but similar to 2 and 3. After this loss, I was finally diagnosed with anticardiolipin antibodies, and prescribed a daily mega dose of folic acid, baby aspirin, and progesterone and lovenox upon confirmation of the next pregnancy. All other fertility tests came back fine.
Number 5, 15 months after number 4, sucked ass. The scenario was similar to the previous pregnancies (bleeding/cramping and negative hpts, which made me think I had gotten AF, before finally getting a positive). After much bloodwork, and pleading with the RE, I got an early appointment for an ultrasound. I just KNEW something wasn't right, and sure enough, little cletus the fetus had parked his ass in my fallopian tube. Surgery and massive doses of painkillers ensued. I became pretty depressed after this loss, and considered giving up trying.
And now, six months later, here we go again. This seems different, though, so maybe we'll actually end up with a kid in 36 weeks or so. Or maybe we'll discover another new and horrifying way to experience pregnancy loss.
Only time will tell.
still reeling
So, as I noted in my last post, I seem to be knocked up. I've not yet confirmed this at the doctor (hopefully will be doing that tomorrow) but an embarrassing number of HPTs concur.
The timing was pretty sweet - today is our sixth anniversary, and, of course, Father's Day. I've been suspecting it for a while and was getting really faint positives since Thursday, which was 11 or 12 dpo. Here's the crazy thing: this is my sixth (!) pregnancy, and the ONLY one in which I've gotten a positive that early. It's also the only time I've not had any significant bleeding (spotted a little yesterday but really only noticed when I was inserting my progesterone suppository). I hope those are promising signs. I started the lovenox and progesterone right after ovulation this month, and I'm not sure that they had anything to do with the current state, but I think maybe they did.
In all honesty, I'm pretty numb right now. I'd like to be hopeful, but I know how many things can go wrong. I'll take numb though - it's better than anxiety-ridden and dysfunctional. Hubby and I were chatting at lunch today, and we both made some pretty grim jokes at our fetus' (or zygote's?) expense. Don't hate me for it, kid.
I'll be calling the RE's office first thing in the am, and then the roller coaster ride will really begin.
The timing was pretty sweet - today is our sixth anniversary, and, of course, Father's Day. I've been suspecting it for a while and was getting really faint positives since Thursday, which was 11 or 12 dpo. Here's the crazy thing: this is my sixth (!) pregnancy, and the ONLY one in which I've gotten a positive that early. It's also the only time I've not had any significant bleeding (spotted a little yesterday but really only noticed when I was inserting my progesterone suppository). I hope those are promising signs. I started the lovenox and progesterone right after ovulation this month, and I'm not sure that they had anything to do with the current state, but I think maybe they did.
In all honesty, I'm pretty numb right now. I'd like to be hopeful, but I know how many things can go wrong. I'll take numb though - it's better than anxiety-ridden and dysfunctional. Hubby and I were chatting at lunch today, and we both made some pretty grim jokes at our fetus' (or zygote's?) expense. Don't hate me for it, kid.
I'll be calling the RE's office first thing in the am, and then the roller coaster ride will really begin.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
2:31
That's how long it took me to run my 12.4 miles Saturday. Sorta slow, but my aim was "Complete, not compete." And complete I did.
There were so many people in the race, and I ended up so far back from the start as a result, that I couldn't even hear the gun! It was a gorgeous day, a gorgeous route, and I'm already planning to do it next year, and also to run a half marathon in October. I think I can drop my time significantly, especially since I was battling charley horses in my calves for the last 4 miles.
Of course this plan is contingent upon my not being pregnant at either of those times, which, given my luck, is a pretty sure bet. Either way, I'm done planning my life around an off chance. Time is passing, old age is encroaching, and I cannot put off living any more. At the same time though, I am ready to commit myself to a Nazi-esque diet and fitness routine, not just to become super hot and super healthy, but because I secretly hope it will help me get preggers. Can't hurt, right? So this weekend was my last indulgence in beer for a while (nothing like a cold one after a long run!) and I'll be starting to wean myself off of caffeine as well. Steer clear, world, because the bitch is back.
Word of advice, though, to anyone who may be planning such a run: if race volunteers offer you champagne at mile 11 in celebration of the 30th running, pass it by. Do not, repeat, do not chug it and then try to make up the time you lost to charley horses by running really hard to the finish. Do not vomit immediately upon crossing the finish line, in front of thousands of spectators, while the announcer shouts your name over megaphone. Do hold the next wave of vomit in your mouth while the race official removes the timing chip from your shoe, because she really would not appreciate your spew on her head.
Running is fun :)
There were so many people in the race, and I ended up so far back from the start as a result, that I couldn't even hear the gun! It was a gorgeous day, a gorgeous route, and I'm already planning to do it next year, and also to run a half marathon in October. I think I can drop my time significantly, especially since I was battling charley horses in my calves for the last 4 miles.
Of course this plan is contingent upon my not being pregnant at either of those times, which, given my luck, is a pretty sure bet. Either way, I'm done planning my life around an off chance. Time is passing, old age is encroaching, and I cannot put off living any more. At the same time though, I am ready to commit myself to a Nazi-esque diet and fitness routine, not just to become super hot and super healthy, but because I secretly hope it will help me get preggers. Can't hurt, right? So this weekend was my last indulgence in beer for a while (nothing like a cold one after a long run!) and I'll be starting to wean myself off of caffeine as well. Steer clear, world, because the bitch is back.
Word of advice, though, to anyone who may be planning such a run: if race volunteers offer you champagne at mile 11 in celebration of the 30th running, pass it by. Do not, repeat, do not chug it and then try to make up the time you lost to charley horses by running really hard to the finish. Do not vomit immediately upon crossing the finish line, in front of thousands of spectators, while the announcer shouts your name over megaphone. Do hold the next wave of vomit in your mouth while the race official removes the timing chip from your shoe, because she really would not appreciate your spew on her head.
Running is fun :)
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
anticipating the dread
Can you grieve for someone who only existed for an instant? Whose existence was proven only by pink lines that faded far too quickly? Am I grieving for them, my nameless, faceless brood, or for the loss of the life I had imagined?
After our first loss, in December of 2005 (holy shit - a lifetime ago!) I stopped allowing myself the luxury of anticipation of baby. What I did feel, in abundance, with each subsequent pregnancy, was dread: how will this one end? how painful will it be? how long will the depression last afterwards?
Part of my learning how to be happy - and for me, happiness is a skill set that needs to be built and added onto and regularly maintained - has been learning to tune out the destructive voices in my head. You know, the ones that keep a running tally of all of the babies who have been born to friends and family since we started our journey, or remind me of how old each particular kid would be had they lasted, or imagine how I would look pregnant if I were capable of staying pregnant.
It's a coping mechanism, surely, to build up this wall around my tender parts. I can't help but feel guilty though - maybe if I had named those babies, loved them more, just been better in general, they would have stuck around. The guilt pisses me off immensely, too, because it's proof that part of my psyche is stuck way back in an early stage of grief. I want to be done with it, please. (So that we can try again, and I can get pregnant again, and start the whole stupid cycle over again.)
I've been really distracted lately thinking all of this through, and it shows. While I do consider myself to be a pretty smart cookie, I've been doing/saying some dumbass things lately. Consider the following:
Several weeks ago, I drove down to Kansas City, MO for a work meeting. Since I am fairly new to the midwest, I find Iowans' attitudes towards Missouri quite funny. The old joke is that if the southernmost county in Iowa were to become part of MO instead, the IQ of both states would jump. Basically, many Iowans think that people from Missouri, or anywhere near Missouri, are intellectually challenged. (I'm sorry if I offend anyone from MO with that.) On the drive home, I observed what I thought was an interesting confirmation of this. The conversation I had with Hubby when I got home is below:
Me: So, dude, guess what I noticed on the drive home?
Hubby: What? (trying to play his xbox, or shall we say, crackbox, and obviously distracted)
Me: Well, I noticed that there's a ton of roadkill in Missouri. I mean, everywhere and every species of animal. Literally, like every 5 feet.
Hubby: So? (still distracted)
Me: Well, as soon as I crossed the state line into Iowa, the roadkill disappeared. Virtually none.
Hubby: And?
Me: And, I'm wondering if that just proves that even the wildlife in Missouri is dumb. (I thought this was fucking brilliant!)
Hubby: (setting down the game controller, even! and looking at me with real concern on his face) Sweetie, all that means is that we spend the money to clean it up. Are you okay?
Duh. The simplest explanation.
Or another fabulous display of my intellect:
I had a friend's Olde English Bulldogge at work with me (I work in a vet's office, if you don't know already) and was walking him around lunch time. He happens to be a very sweet dog who loves people - adults, kids, babies - and he's very handsome, so he attracts a lot of attention. Of course, a lady stopped and wanted to pet him. I was focusing on the dog, not really looking at the lady, while the following conversation occurred:
Lady: Oh what a sweet boy! He just loves people, doesn't he?
Me: (still looking at the dog, and trying to convey that he likes kids too, because some dogs don't.) Oh yeah. Any shape, any size.
At which point I looked up and noticed that this lady just happened to be large. Quite large. And embarrassed. And I had no idea what to say to explain myself.
Open mouth, insert foot.
The kicker is that I come from a family of large people, and I truly would never ever be so mean to someone about anything, including their size. (Well, intentionally, at least.)
After our first loss, in December of 2005 (holy shit - a lifetime ago!) I stopped allowing myself the luxury of anticipation of baby. What I did feel, in abundance, with each subsequent pregnancy, was dread: how will this one end? how painful will it be? how long will the depression last afterwards?
Part of my learning how to be happy - and for me, happiness is a skill set that needs to be built and added onto and regularly maintained - has been learning to tune out the destructive voices in my head. You know, the ones that keep a running tally of all of the babies who have been born to friends and family since we started our journey, or remind me of how old each particular kid would be had they lasted, or imagine how I would look pregnant if I were capable of staying pregnant.
It's a coping mechanism, surely, to build up this wall around my tender parts. I can't help but feel guilty though - maybe if I had named those babies, loved them more, just been better in general, they would have stuck around. The guilt pisses me off immensely, too, because it's proof that part of my psyche is stuck way back in an early stage of grief. I want to be done with it, please. (So that we can try again, and I can get pregnant again, and start the whole stupid cycle over again.)
I've been really distracted lately thinking all of this through, and it shows. While I do consider myself to be a pretty smart cookie, I've been doing/saying some dumbass things lately. Consider the following:
Several weeks ago, I drove down to Kansas City, MO for a work meeting. Since I am fairly new to the midwest, I find Iowans' attitudes towards Missouri quite funny. The old joke is that if the southernmost county in Iowa were to become part of MO instead, the IQ of both states would jump. Basically, many Iowans think that people from Missouri, or anywhere near Missouri, are intellectually challenged. (I'm sorry if I offend anyone from MO with that.) On the drive home, I observed what I thought was an interesting confirmation of this. The conversation I had with Hubby when I got home is below:
Me: So, dude, guess what I noticed on the drive home?
Hubby: What? (trying to play his xbox, or shall we say, crackbox, and obviously distracted)
Me: Well, I noticed that there's a ton of roadkill in Missouri. I mean, everywhere and every species of animal. Literally, like every 5 feet.
Hubby: So? (still distracted)
Me: Well, as soon as I crossed the state line into Iowa, the roadkill disappeared. Virtually none.
Hubby: And?
Me: And, I'm wondering if that just proves that even the wildlife in Missouri is dumb. (I thought this was fucking brilliant!)
Hubby: (setting down the game controller, even! and looking at me with real concern on his face) Sweetie, all that means is that we spend the money to clean it up. Are you okay?
Duh. The simplest explanation.
Or another fabulous display of my intellect:
I had a friend's Olde English Bulldogge at work with me (I work in a vet's office, if you don't know already) and was walking him around lunch time. He happens to be a very sweet dog who loves people - adults, kids, babies - and he's very handsome, so he attracts a lot of attention. Of course, a lady stopped and wanted to pet him. I was focusing on the dog, not really looking at the lady, while the following conversation occurred:
Lady: Oh what a sweet boy! He just loves people, doesn't he?
Me: (still looking at the dog, and trying to convey that he likes kids too, because some dogs don't.) Oh yeah. Any shape, any size.
At which point I looked up and noticed that this lady just happened to be large. Quite large. And embarrassed. And I had no idea what to say to explain myself.
Open mouth, insert foot.
The kicker is that I come from a family of large people, and I truly would never ever be so mean to someone about anything, including their size. (Well, intentionally, at least.)
Monday, March 2, 2009
just another manic monday
Well, that was fun. The morning of our trip, Hubby and I ran around the house like lunatics, doing all sorts of last minute chores, and yet we still managed to leave the luggage tags sitting on the kitchen table. That's how we roll, I guess.
We actually paid for the cab ride to the airport three times, since Hubby realized when we were mere blocks away that he forgot his antibiotics. Back to the house we went, and I thanked my lucky stars that we live in the Midwest now, and cab fare is cheap. And of course, we forgot the luggage tags again.
Aside from these annoyances, and a few at the hotel, we had a great trip. We ate a lot, and the food was surprisingly good. We didn't go out dancing/partying quite as much as I wanted at the time. In retrospect, we got some much needed quiet time together, without animals. I got to see some family, and rekindle my love affair with the potato (fried! sauteed! mashed! boiled!). I also met a new friend, 1921 Tequila Cream. Oh. My. God. Soooooo yummy!
I can't help but feel guilty, though. I'm trying to get pregnant. I shouldn't be drinking at all, much less in the quantities I drank last week. I definitely enjoyed myself, and even though I didn't get stupid drunk at all (except maybe once), I'm punishing myself for the good times now. My brain is a constant stream of "That's why you can't stay pregnant. You'd make a crappy mom." And my all time favorite, "If you do get pregnant this month, and Something Happens, it will be because you had a good time." Nice.
But then I remember - 3 years. We've been in this semi-fertility hell for more than three years now. I'm allowed to enjoy myself once in a while without feeling guilty for it. I certainly don't drink much, if at all, when we're not travelling, so I'm going to drink up and get down while on vacation (unless, of course, I happen to already be pregnant. Maybe next year, which we've already begun to plan.)
The best thing about the vacation by far (unless, of course, I end up pregnant as a result of it) has been the lens through which it allowed me to view my real life. And you know what? I am truly lucky: I love my husband, and he loves me. We have a really wonderful relationship, despite the occasional bumps. I love my house, even though it needs work. I love my pets. I love my family, even though they sometimes make me want to scream. We have stable jobs and an income that allows us to take a fairly nice vacation every year, pay off debt, and put a little into savings. My life is actually pretty good, and maybe, just maybe, things will work out for us.
I guess I'm feeling optimistic. Today, anyway :)
We actually paid for the cab ride to the airport three times, since Hubby realized when we were mere blocks away that he forgot his antibiotics. Back to the house we went, and I thanked my lucky stars that we live in the Midwest now, and cab fare is cheap. And of course, we forgot the luggage tags again.
Aside from these annoyances, and a few at the hotel, we had a great trip. We ate a lot, and the food was surprisingly good. We didn't go out dancing/partying quite as much as I wanted at the time. In retrospect, we got some much needed quiet time together, without animals. I got to see some family, and rekindle my love affair with the potato (fried! sauteed! mashed! boiled!). I also met a new friend, 1921 Tequila Cream. Oh. My. God. Soooooo yummy!
I can't help but feel guilty, though. I'm trying to get pregnant. I shouldn't be drinking at all, much less in the quantities I drank last week. I definitely enjoyed myself, and even though I didn't get stupid drunk at all (except maybe once), I'm punishing myself for the good times now. My brain is a constant stream of "That's why you can't stay pregnant. You'd make a crappy mom." And my all time favorite, "If you do get pregnant this month, and Something Happens, it will be because you had a good time." Nice.
But then I remember - 3 years. We've been in this semi-fertility hell for more than three years now. I'm allowed to enjoy myself once in a while without feeling guilty for it. I certainly don't drink much, if at all, when we're not travelling, so I'm going to drink up and get down while on vacation (unless, of course, I happen to already be pregnant. Maybe next year, which we've already begun to plan.)
The best thing about the vacation by far (unless, of course, I end up pregnant as a result of it) has been the lens through which it allowed me to view my real life. And you know what? I am truly lucky: I love my husband, and he loves me. We have a really wonderful relationship, despite the occasional bumps. I love my house, even though it needs work. I love my pets. I love my family, even though they sometimes make me want to scream. We have stable jobs and an income that allows us to take a fairly nice vacation every year, pay off debt, and put a little into savings. My life is actually pretty good, and maybe, just maybe, things will work out for us.
I guess I'm feeling optimistic. Today, anyway :)
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