Dumpster Fire

Okay.  So... I have a ton of thoughts whirling around in my head and I am not sure what order they will come out , but here it goes.

I feel stuck.  And left behind.  I'm the only one from the local support group who does not having a living child.  And with the loss group online, people are having multiple rainbows, and I am just sitting here like "Yep, my body hates me."  And even as I type that, I feel like I am just feeling sorry for myself, and maybe I am.  Pity Party.  Party of one, right here. 🙋

I just don't understand why things have to be sooo difficult.  I'd go for just difficult or even so difficult right now.  Ugh.😭

So back to feeling stuck.  I haven't meant another person whose had a loss and then went through secondary infertility like I have.  I mean, I'm sure there are other MEs out there, I just haven't met them.  Or know of them.  And anyway, why do I have to be so damn special?!

Like how I still haven't explained why I feel stuck?  It's because of all these stupid steps I have to take between here and getting what I want (which, if you don't know is to have a baby I get to take home and care for).  When I went to the fertility doctor on Valentine's Day, I thought we would talk IVF, and we did a little, but it was not what I expected.

Apparently, both men and women produce testosterone.  My limits are normal, but not for someone trying to get and maintain a pregnancy.  The doctor said it COULD be the reason for the early losses because it could cause me to have abnormal eggs and that would cause early losses, but like most things in the medical field, it wasn't definitive.  He put me on a low dose steroid and said to test my blood again in 3 weeks to see if my levels went down.  No idea what happens after that, but I can't set up my final IVF appointment until the levels are down.

I also found out that I have the same amount of eggs in my ovarian reserve as a 37 year old.  Which might be nice if I was 37, or you know 40.  But I'm not, I just turned 31.  What is worse is hearing the numbers.  At 31, I my number should be 3.1, but my number is 1.59, so about half of what it should be.  Thanks ovaries!  I told the doctor that fraternal twins run in my family (my mom is a twin, my grandma was a twin, my great-grandma was a twin, my second cousin on my mom's side had two sets of twins).  I asked if it could be because I have been ovulating two eggs instead of one with a family history like mine.  He said no, but that it was fascinating. 😒

The last piece of "wonderful" news I learned was that my ANA test came back positive.  The ANA test is the one that tells you whether or not you have an autoimmune disease or not.  I've had this test come back positive 3 times in the past 10 years.  The first being my freshman year of college.  I doctor told me I might have lupus and he would test for that.  When I told my mom, she said I didn't want lupus because I could die.  That was fun.  I didn't have lupus and my ANA test came back negative.

The second time I tested positive for ANA was when I first moved to Florida 4 years ago.  The doctor thought I had AIH (Autoimmune Hepatitis) because of my elevated liver enzymes.  I went to a Hepatologist, had tons of blood taken, and did a liver biopsy.  The specialist was very interested in my case because of how rare AIH was.  I was told I would have this disease forever and hopefully it'll go into remission because if not, I may need a liver transplant or could die.  Then I tested negative for the ANA.  The Hepatologist said I probably had fatty liver disease and told me to lose weight.  Then, didn't want me to come in anymore.

That makes this, the third time I tested positive for ANA.  I see a Rheumatologist on the Wednesday and will talk about next steps.  I have no idea what to expect, and I can't schedule my final IVF consultation until it is all figured out.  So. Stuck.

So on top of all of that, there are a ton of pregnant ladies and babies out there.  Even on TV, people talk about how it was so easy for them to get pregnant.  Dammit, I want it to be easy for me too.  For real, I promise I'll be a good mom to a baby on Earth.  

The other thing that has been irking me lately, is the talk like I am not a mom.  I am.  I still am a mom, even if my baby died.  I hear complaints about lack of sleep and not being able to do things because of kids.  Yes.  It must be very difficult to have a healthy, happy, ALIVE child.  That is just so terrible for you.  😐

Or the other thing, is when people say they are sharing baby news "for a friend."  No.  Just don't.  I don't think I have enough expletives to explain why not, but seriously don't do it.  To put it nicely, I will think you're an asshole.  Yes, that is the nice version.  And if you don't care what I think, then why are you reading my blog?  So there.  Hmmph *crosses arms in triumph* 

So I titled this Dumpster Fire because that is what my life feels like right now.  Oh lordy, I hope it gets better.

Free IVF

Dear Genevieve,

Earlier in the month, my friend texts me and says I HAVE turn on 106.7 XL because they were giving away free IVF.  Because IVF is extremely expensive, the radio giving it to someone is pretty amazing.  I just needed to write a 500 word or less essay, which is challenging because so much has happened in four years.  I did my best to explain it and here is what I wrote:

I didn’t originally have infertility.  I easily became pregnant with my daughter, Genevieve, within four months of trying.  My husband, Jake, and I were ecstatic and so thankful for this little miracle.  Over Thanksgiving, we drove up to Illinois to attend our baby shower.  Our families were so excited for us, and we were ready to take home our little girl.  On December 1, 2014, when I was 34 weeks pregnant, I heard those words no mother wants to hear, “There is no heartbeat.” Somehow, I drove to the closest hospital, spent two days in labor, and gave birth to my stillborn daughter on December 3, 2014.  Her name: Genevieve Pearl. 

But this story isn’t about her, it is about what came after.

I have secondary infertility.  Even worse, the doctors are unsure why I am having such a difficult time getting pregnant.  In September of 2015, after months of trying, I went to my OB/GYN who suggested I get a hysterosalpingogram (HSG) to make sure my tubes were open.  I was even told that many women get pregnant shortly after they receive one.  My tubes were clear, but I still didn’t get pregnant.  I went to see a reproductive endocrinologist (RE) who thought that I had endometriosis and scheduled me for an ultrasound to see if there was fluid around my uterus.  There was, so the next step was surgery.

Instead of calling the office on cycle day one, I called to tell them I was pregnant!  However, I had a blighted ovum so there was a gestational sac with no baby.  I miscarried at 6 weeks in May 2016.  It took me 15 months to get to this point, and like that, I was back where I started.  I already lost one baby, this made me 0-2.

In the fall of 2016, I did go through with the surgery.  My RE was able to clear out all of the endometriosis, and I was told I should easily become pregnant.  After three months of trying, my RE suggested I come in and discuss Intrauterine Insemination (IUI).  He said if I didn’t get pregnant after two rounds, I should schedule another HSG.  I did one IUI in the spring, and the second in the fall.  Still no positive pregnancy test, so I had the HSG. 

This time, I was one of the lucky ones who became pregnant after the procedure.  I went to my first appointment the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and was told I would most likely miscarry.  I was pregnant for 8 weeks, was told the baby stopped growing, and had a D&C—making me 0-3.

Normally, people with secondary infertility have one living child.  Unfortunately, we do not.  When your first child is stillborn, it shouldn’t be so difficult to get pregnant.  I want to be able to bring a baby home and I feel like IVF is my best option.

Then I put a link to this blog.  Even if I don't win, maybe someone whose been through something similar will read this and feel comforted.  Maybe it will raise awareness of the frequency of stillbirth.  Maybe what I have gone through will affect someone else's life in a positive way. Just maybe.  Hopefully.

I love you now and always.

Mom

Baby3

I miscarried baby 3.

That leaves me at 0-3 when it comes to pregnancies.

Sometimes I think God is a jerk.

I went to the appointment on December 11th hoping to see that pitter-patter on the screen of my baby's heartbeat.  I was hoping to see arms and legs and a head.  I was hoping to see a little peanut-shaped baby.  When he did the ultrasound, I swear I saw something.  It must have been gas or my insides moving because it wasn't a heartbeat.  There were no arms or legs or a peanut body.  The baby looked exactly as it had the week prior. 

The doctor said the baby stopped growing and it was incompatible with life.  I looked at the doctor and said, "I want to skip to IVF."  With IVF, the embryos can be tested and the best ones can be implanted.  I know PAL will be difficult, but it will give me some piece of mind knowing that genetically and chromosomally the baby is normal.  He agreed, which is good because I can't keep living like this.  It takes a long time for me to get pregnant and then I loose it.

Sometimes I think God is a jerk.

The doctor told me that I could either get a D&C within the next couple of days or wait several weeks and miscarry on my own.  I said to sign me up for the first one.  Here's why- if I were to wait several weeks, I would start to hope.  I would hope the doctor was wrong.  I would hope everything would be okay.  I would hope for a baby that is not going to miraculously start growing.  Then, when I did miscarry, because I would, I would be devastated AGAIN.  I am so thankful that the doctor gave me a choice.

I opted to get genetic testing to determine why I miscarried.  I also asked if I would be able to find out the gender.  I was told I would.  I put off giving the baby a name until I found out the gender.  I also had to get blood work done in a week to make sure my HCG (the pregnancy hormone) was back to zero.

I got my blood work done a week later.  It went down to 500 (from around 8,000) so I had to go back in another week.  The next week my number was 55, which is closer, but still not zero.  If it went from 8,000 to 500 in one week, wouldn't it be 0 by two weeks?  I guess not.  I have to go again on Tuesday.

I also received my results from the genetic testing.  There was an insufficient amount of tissue so the tests were inconclusive.  So they can only speculate as to why I miscarried.

Sometimes I think God is a jerk.

I really wanted to know the gender more than anything. I thought for sure a boy, but I wanted to be positive.  I wanted to know something about this little bean.  I barely had any time with him.  It seems like nothing is going my way.  Hubby says we can pick out a unisex name, but I didn't want to pick out a unisex name.  I wanted to know the gender.

Sometimes I think God is a jerk.

Since this is not my first rodeo (oh baby loss? yeah been there, done that 3 TIMES), I had enough with-it-ness to ask for a picture of my little bean.  The baby is the part with the line across it.  The larger circle is the yolk sac and the largest circle was the gestational sac.

I do not regret sharing this baby with everyone.  He may have been here for a little bit of time, but he was celebrated.  He was cherished.  He was loved.

PAL Anxiety

My second ultrasound is today and I’m sitting here as huge bundle of nerves. I woke up at 4 am feeling nauseous, which I’m sure is a mixture of morning sickness and anxiety. It’s normal for someone to feel the way I’m feeling with any pregnancy, let alone the pregnancy after a loss. I’m 0-2 and I wonder if today I become 0-3. 

After EVERYTHING I was told at my last appointment, almost 2 weeks ago, I’m hoping and praying that everything will be alright. I’m hoping the sac is regular, there’s a baby there, his heart is beating, and they can tell me something about this subchronic hemorrhage (SCH). However, I’m also wearing really comfortable clothes in the case I am sent to the hospital for a D&C. Why? Because of well, loss. It’s happened twice before. 

What I think really stinks is that I know this anxiety doesn’t get better. It’s a wonder anyone gets through PAL (pregnancy after loss) at all. I know I can survive this because several women before me already have and shared some words of wisdom along the way. 

Tragedy isn't the only outcome. - This one is my favorite because it acknowledges the past with gently reminding me that it isn’t the only ending. 

Different pregnancy, different ending. - My doppelgänger tells me this when I freak out. It reminds me that history doesn’t always repeat itself. 

Today I am pregnant. - This mantra reminds me to focus on the here and now. 

Take it one day at a time.- I really used this right after the loss of Genevieve. Think of my entire future without her in it made me want to throw up. I am attempting to take it one day at a time with this pregnancy. 

I’m so ready to be done with this appointment. 

Learning Experiences

Three years ago today, I learned the most devastating news any pregnant person could possibly hear.  Genevieve no longer had a heartbeat.  It's been three years and I am still unsure how that happened or how my heart could just go on beating when hers didn't. Or even how things like this happen. It wasn't like I did anything wrong.  I didn't smoke or drink or do drugs or even eat foods on those "naughty" lists, but still this awful event happened to me.  In fact, it happens to 1 out of every 160 pregnancies.  It seems like not a lot, but when it it happens to you, it is everything.

I've learned so much about people these past 3 years, for example, people say stupid things when they are uncomfortable, and dead babies make people uncomfortable. 

"Things happen for a reason."  No one whose lost a child believes this malarkey, and the person who says it sounds like an asshole.

"God has a plan."  Please tell me how this helps with the loss of a child?  This doesn't make me feel better because what kind of good plan involves dead babies?

"You'll be able to have more kids." Really?  Is that a guarantee? And even if I am able to have another baby, it still does not make up for the baby that I had to give back.

"Do you think it is healthy to have a picture of your daughter on your phone."  Yes.  Asshole.  It is.  Is it healthy for you to have pictures of your dead family members?  I'm really sorry that my only pictures of her are after she died and it makes YOU uncomfortable.  You couldn't possibly understand how much I wish I had some of her alive, besides the sonograms.

"I can't imagine."  Yes you can, you don't want to.  I get it.  Dead children are hard.  Unfortunately, I don't get the luxury of not having to imagine it.  I live it.

However, I have also learned that people can be genuinely caring and root for you to succeed, and I am not as isolated as I once felt.  There has been so many loving people who've come out of the woodwork to cheer me on throughout this journey.  I've had some great friends listen to me ramble on about Genevieve, ask me to see her picture,  not shun me when I shared my pregnancy stories, and still view me as a mom even though my baby isn't in my arms.  I've met some of the best people through this experience.

I have my doppelganger who is one of my biggest cheerleaders.  I still cannot believe our babies died and were born on the same day.  I mean, what are the odds?  I know Charlie and Genevieve made our friendship possible and knew we had to meet.  I cheered her on during her rainbow twin pregnancy, and she has cheered me on through every step of my infertility after loss journey.  I could not have asked for a better doppelganger.

Red, my loud-mouthed, obnoxious, most caring and wonderful friend and coworker, has been amazing.  She's been there to hear me cry because the grief is so unbearable.   Or listen to my awkward jokes with a empathetic ear because humor is how I deal with things, and talk to me about the prospect of adoption.  I'm so glad she is in my life.

My friend, the self-proclaimed nerd, has been a huge help this past year as I re-navigate the third grade.  She never makes me feel weird for wanting to talk about my little girl or when I tell her the little signs Genevieve shows me.  I'm appreciative of her telling me "things happen for a reason" does not apply to this.  It will never apply to this.  I love my teammate, the self-proclaimed nerd. ❤

The stay-at-home mom let me hold her baby for hours when I came over to see her for the first time.  That was the first baby I held after holding Genevieve.  The time I spent holding her baby reminded me that I still have mama instincts, which was so meaningful for me.  I so appreciate when she checks in with me and talks me down from the edge.  Once in a wave of grief, I told her I bet people would be happy once I got pregnant again because I'm sure they want me "to get over" Genevieve.  She told me everyone will always remember Genevieve.  She said this journey I am on is like a marathon, and everyone wants to see me get to the next water station.  It is something that I think about when I feeling down, and I always can rely on her for words of wisdom.

My old team knew a lot about the struggle of infertility and have been rooting for me since I started teaching at my current school.  When I miscarried with Raine and stayed home for a week, they were there to lean on.  When I went in to the fertility doctor, or had a procedure, or had a failed IUI cycle, they were there to listen.  They were there with their own stories and words of hope.

Yesterday, my new team did something that touched my heart.  They gave me a card telling me they will be thinking of the hubs and I over this weekend because they knew it would be a hard one.  Most people shy away from the topic of dead babies, but they embraced that this is something I have been through, and let me know I can lean on them.  A card may not seem like a big deal, but it meant the world to me.

The women of the third trimester loss community have been my life raft.  Stillbirth is a unique loss since you are forced to give birth to death, and you constantly grieve the future, without having much of a past to remember fondly.  Their eloquence with words has been a godsend to me.  They get it.  Every. Single. Time.  Anytime I get a sign, anytime I want to cry or scream, or curse the world.  They get it.  When it seemed everyone was having their rainbows, except me, they screamed and cursed the world with me.  Every. Single. Time.  I may never have met them in person, but I love and appreciate each and every one of them.

And with that, I have news.  I'm pregnant. 

The hubs had stayed home on November 15.  Just because.  I had asked him to get a pregnancy test, but wasn't sure I wanted to take it.  He encouraged me to take it, and I was angry when two lines didn't show up immediately.  Of course I wasn't pregnant.  Things like that don't work out for me.  So I went in and pouted in the bedroom.  Yes, sometimes I act like the third graders I teach. Anyway, I digress.  I knew something amazing was about to happen when he came into the room with a big smile on his face.  This was it.  This was what I was hoping and praying for for years.

I was on cloud nine.  I was like a giddy school girl.  I was incredibly humble and grateful for this gift.  I started making phone calls at once.  High risk doctor. Check. Fertility doctor. Check. Endocrinologist. Check. OBGYN. Check.  I set up blood work for the next day, and an ultrasound for the next week.  Later that day, I received the results of the HCG in my blood.  82.9.  Officially pregnant.  I had to go back in two days and get my blood retaken to make sure the numbers were going up sufficiently.

The hubs was nervous on Saturday.  I wasn't  I knew it would be okay.  I am not sure how, when it seemed like nothing was okay the past three years, but I felt like the numbers would be where they were supposed to be.  I was right.  They grew to 250.9.  The nurse scheduled me to see the fertility doctor to do an ultrasound on December 4th.  I was ecstatic.  All I needed was to go to my ultrasound with the high risk doctor on Wednesday to see the babe, and I would be good to go.

Wednesday comes, but it was not the appointment I had anticipated.  We saw the gestational sac and nothing else.  I didn't understand.  My numbers grew.  I was nauseous.  I was having all sorts of pregnancy symptoms.  The high risk doctor told me she thought I was having a blighted ovum.  She thought a baby would never form.  She told me I would miscarry over the Thanksgiving holiday so she called my OBGYN to make sure he was available to do an D&C.  She gave me this kit and told me when I miscarried to take the tissue out of my underwear or fish it out of the toilet and put it in the CSI kit.  She wanted to test to see if the tissue had chromosomal abnormalities.  She thought the gestational sac that was there was irregular and said I had internal bleeding.  She did want me to get more blood work and would call me the Friday after Thanksgiving to give me my results.  She said she wanted me to return in another week.

Friday came with no phone call.  I felt so betrayed.  How do you tell someone with MY history all the things she said, tell me you would call me about blood results, and the NOT call?! I was a wreck, wondering what my numbers were, but also terrified to know the truth.  So I called the lab where my blood was collected.  They sent me an encrypted email.  I shook as I opened it.  1141.  Right where they should be.

On Monday, I called the office and gave them an earful.  I cancelled my appointment.  There was no way I was going to hear something terrible the day before the anniversary of my daughter's death.  I figured I would see the fertility doctor on Monday, and if there was something wrong, there is nothing I can do about it anyway and an earlier ultrasound would not change or fix anything. 

Later in the day, I hear from a nurse about my HCG number.  She said they want to run another test, and since the lab closes at 3:30, I rushed over there as fast as I could.  The next morning I received the results right away.  7859! They are going up at an appropriate rate, which means it is doubtful there is a blighted ovum.  I was probably earlier than anticipated.

My next ultrasound is Monday, and everything could go to shit.  But today, the anniversary of the worst day of my life, I decide to share something positive.  I decided to share my pregnancy.  There will never be a "safe" time of this pregnancy.  Genevieve was 34 weeks when she died.  I waited the customary 13 weeks and she died anyway.

So here it is.  I am currently at my next water station.  I'm pregnant.  And I hope and pray this baby is healthy and I get to bring him home.

The test I took on the 11/15/2017.

The Trigger Shot

Dear Eve Believe,

Part of this IUI experience requires me to give myself a shot.  It may seem like no big deal, but with my history of needles, it was a big deal.  When I was younger, I was terrified of them.  Even the thought of getting a shot or having to get blood drawn would make me hyperventilate.  When I was really little, I would run away and hide.  The nurses would have to drag me out and then hold me down in order to get a shot.  Yeah. I was that kid.

 When I was in high school the National Honors Society was having a blood drive.  Everyone with a cabinet position was supposed to help run it, and I was the only one not to do it.  I would have rather gone to class all day then help with the blood drive.  In college, I would look in the other direction when they would have blood drives in the dorms.  I was usually on my way to get lunch and I would feel nauseous eating it.

Let's do this!

I always hoped I wouldn't be diabetic because I didn't know how anyone could poke themselves with  needles.  And as I found out yesterday, they do it pretty easily.  I was told the needle in the trigger shot is similar to the ones used when administering insulin.  I was told it was not going to hurt, but I think the anxiety of the idea of giving myself a shot mixed with the denial that I was as nervous as a I was, blew it up in my head.  So when I took a chunk of stomach one inch from my belly button and stuck myself, the thought that came up was, "Dude, that doesn't hurt at all." Yes.  I thought the word "Dude."

I pushed down the syringe and thought to myself that it wasn't that bad, and then it started to burn.  I started to feel a little dizzy and told myself I was going to finish this shot.  So I did.  I mean, I guess it is not that impressive being that I was by myself and there was no way your dad could help me since he was still at work.  But gosh darn it, I did it!  I am very proud of myself, if you can't tell.  :)

I don't think I am very good at it based on that red spot.

Now that the worse part (so far) is done, I go in for procedure this Sunday.  My anxiety and hopefulness is rolled together in a ball that is currently sitting in my stomach.  After the procedure, I have to wait the dreaded two weeks.  The best part (not) is that I will feel like I am pregnant for the next two weeks because of the lovely trigger shot.  I also can't test early because the trigger shot produces positive pregnancy tests.  I have to wait 14 days to test.

What day might you ask is 14 days from the day of the procedure?  Why, that would be Mother's Day.  Yes. That's right.  Mother's Day.  I found out the day before Mother's Day when I was pregnant with baby Raine.  I mean how wonderful would that be if it was positive on Mother's Day? Then again, how terrible would it be if it was negative on Mother's Day?  I mean the day already stinks because I don't get to spend it with you.  So I am torn about it all, and I am sure  I will take the entire 14 days to think about it and over analyze the entire thing, while feeling pregnancy symptoms the whole time.  Fun.  I need a glass of wine thinking about it.

I love you and think of you.  Always.

Love,

Mom

Sick

Dear Genevieve,

I am currently in bed.  I should be educating the youth of America, but instead I am curled up under my blanket with my tablet, wishing my head ache and stomach pain would go away.  I think it is safe to say that my body is not a fan of the letrozole the doctor put me on.  Stupid body.  You like what I tell you like (foot stomp) dammit!

For most of the past 24 hours I have been in the fetal position clenching my stomach.  I've taken this medication in the past, but this dose is doubled what I took before.  I guess one of the side effects is gas pain/bloating, the kind over the counter medication does not help with, the kind that leaves a 30 year old in the fetal position  hoping this dang iui works the first time because this stinks.  I tried everything too.  Yoga (that was painful), walking, drinking water, eating crackers, hot baths, over the counter medication, and the list goes on.  Sunday Fun Day I think not.

After that episode, I am left today with a pounding headache and gurgling tummy.   Today is my last dose of the medication, fingers cross it gets better and not worse!  Thank goodness I am going to acupuncture today.  My acupuncturist will fix me right up.  If you would have told me a few years ago I would be going to an acupuncturist, I would have laughed at you because me and needles do not mix.  Now, I can tell when I miss a week.  Still not a fan of needles, but giving birth to you gave me a whole new perspective.

Before my body decided to be mean to me, your daddy and I worked in the garden!  Before we were working with pallets, and now we have decided to work with cinder blocks.  It is still your Alice in Wonderland theme and each plot will have the color scheme of a character from the Disney cartoon.   We've been weeding and putting down mulch.  The wonders of read mulch... We have completed the Red Queen plot and put mulch all around the tree.  The next plot will be the Cheshire Cat.  I wish this was your nursery theme instead of the garden theme, and I am trying to appreciate the joy of using my creativity this way to honor you.  I hope you look on the garden with pride.  Except last summer, don't look on with pride then, it was a mess. And really now, you can look at the tree with pride, and the red queen plot with pride, and the trees behind it with pride.  The rest of it you may look on with dismay and say "hop to it, mommy."  But really you should probably not say that to me either because I am the mom and you're the baby.  Just know I love you and I am fixing the garden up to grow things in and hopefully your future siblings will appreciate it.

I think of you and love you always.

Love,
Mom