RenovationGirl

Back At It

Tomorrow is the first official day of school for where I work.  No big deal....this will be the twelfth year I head into the classroom. I have done this twelve times before.  I am not at all prepared...not my classroom, not my lessons, not my photocopies.  Nothing.  But I am a veteran teacher with years of experience, lots of skill, and a calling to teach, so I will manage. The teaching part, that's easy.

The being in the school again, well, that's been kind of rough. 

As I sat around last week at our in service sessions, it occured to me that when I had been here last,  I was pregnant.  Inside of me a life was struggling to grow.  As I moved around the building, I took care to remember this little life inside of me, so desperately wanted, but destined to leave us.  As I cleaned up my classroom, I thought, "This time next year, you'll be in my arms."  And I thought I was cleaning up the room for the last time ever.

The remembrance of this fact, the fact that I had been pregnant when I was last at work hit me kind of hard.  I found it hard to listen to how fabulous everyone's summer breaks had been.  How relaxing!  How fun!  How joyous!  I thought of all the doctors appointments, the surgery I went to and managed alone that took my fourth child from me, of my aunt's cancer treatments and my own breast cancer scare, my chest pains and anxiety, my impatience with Builder Boy, and all the hours lost between appointments-and I was angry.  All of a sudden, out of the blue, it all hit me all over again. I lost my baby.  I lost four babies.  How did this become my life?

I'm not sure why the work environment brought it all back, but it did.  It's not a constant feeling, but just a nagging sensation of something being off.  Tomorrow will come, and I will face the day with purpose and fortitude because I have to.  These feelings will wear off like they have at home, in the car, or when telling others about our struggles, but that won't stop that nagging sensation of the swelling belly I would be sporting now or the new maternity clothes that would be working their way into my wardrobe.  Perhaps once I make it through the nine months that would have been, I can shake off this feeling of missing something. Until then, did I leave the oven on?  No?  Hmmm...did I forget to lock the door?  No? 

Oh yeah, that's right, I lost my baby. 

 

 

Do You Want the Good News or the Bad News?

Good news?  The good news is that there is a pregnancy and it's right where it should be-in the uterus.  I was so very surprised by that. I had myself convinced it was an ectopic.  I would have bet our life savings on it (although, we don't have any savings, so take that for what it's worth...) and I had myself convinced that my tube would rupture and I would die from internal bleeding.  Yep, I'm just that nuts.  I even told the doctor who assured me that no, that wouldn't happen until at least 7 1/2-8 weeks.  Thanks, Doc! (Please understand that I have a rather unusual relationship with my RE-I pick on him endlessly and he returns the favor...it makes for a much more enjoyable experience as he tells you time after time that you have had an early loss, or you have a molar pregnancy, or you can't make it past 8 weeks pregnant.) So, that's the good news-uterine pregnancy.  He could see the gestational sac and the yolk sac.  This is good, too. BUT, remember, we've been here before...

The bad news?  Well, the bad news is that my numbers are still only creeping up.  At 6 weeks 5 days, my beta hcg is only 1073.  It seems we are in a pattern of only moving up around 100 points every two days.  Monday, it was 852, Wednesday 961, Friday 1073.  Do a search on beta numbers during the sixth week and you'll shake your head and ready a tissue for me.  I begged the doctor to predict the future...he wouldn't.  He just keeps telling me that so long as the numbers are going up, we continue the protocol of progesterone.  Friends tell me that my numbers may just start "popping."  I've done searches on miracle stories and of course there is always a few stories to screw with your head give you hope.  Bottom line, though, is that this is not good.

What I'm having trouble processing is the fact that we are being tortured with these pathetically rising numbers.  Why?  Once again we will have to drag this out until either the numbers start falling or we have an 8 week ultrasound that shows no activity.  It's frustrating.

For the most part, I have been handling it well.  Besides a breakdown on Thursday to a friend on the phone over an unrelated event, I've been fairly stable, mostly because I came to terms with it last weekend after our numbers were so slow.  We want this more than anything, but we just can't be hopeful.  Things will be devastating enough without adding a whole lot of hope to it. 

So that is where we are...waiting still. 

Holding Pattern

I feel like every single time I've been pregnant, it's been all about the wait.  We're always in this holding pattern of hope.  Even this time, knowing that it is highly improbable that this will work out, we still wait.

Monday's blood draw showed the beta number rising again, but only by 100 points.  It should have been 700 points.  Clearly, something is very wrong with this pregnancy and it's only a matter of time. I'm convinced it's ectopic-partly because it's one infertility thing we have yet to experience, partly because I've spent a lot of time on WebMD and other such sites during the past week and there are a lot of similarities.

Of course, I've also googled things like "beta rising but not doubling" or "beta rising slowly" and I find little miracle stories.  I hate those stories.  They are the exception-and I am never an exception unless it's on the negative side (for example-1 in 2,000 women have a molar pregnancy...of that number, only 20% have a complete molar...that's how I am the exception...). 

Wednesday is another blood draw and an ultrasound.  That will show us what's really going on.  I'm looking forward to moving on again and begin dealing with the latest hand we've been dealt.  Thanks for all the kind words and prayers.

Double or Nothing

If you've been pregnant after dealing with infertility, you know that you have your blood levels checked usually every other day, sometimes every day.  This is to monitor your beta HCG (the "pregnancy" hormone"), your progesterone levels, and your estradiol levels.  One of the reasons I was hesitant to call my RE when I first tested at home was because of these constant blood draws.  Certainly, it's not fun getting blood taken so often.  Plus, the drive to the hospital is a total pain (especially when you're working).  But mostly, I didn't want to stress out of every minutiae of this pregnancy.  Honestly, I think part of me thought that if I didn't attempt to micromanage every aspects of these early weeks that I might be able to save this pregnancy.  Ha!  Is that nonsense, or what?!  I did end up choosing to call the RE and begin all the blood tests for a couple of reasons: 1. Having had a molar pregnancy, you have a 20% chance of having another one...I wanted to be monitored closely just in case. 2. My progesterone lows to tank in week 7 (it's happened with all 3 pregnancies that got that far) so I wanted to be placed on progesterone as soon as that was threatening to happen. 3. I was concerned it could be some other, new-to-me infertility issue.  Better safe than sorry, right?

In the early weeks, all the pregnancy websites tell you that you should see the beta levels doubling every 48-72 hours.  This is ideal and occurs in 85% of normal and viable pregnancies. Mine are not doubling.  At first, I noticed they weren't and didn't think much of it...they were still going up and going up by enough.  But late last week, after having been put on progesterone supplements and having many blood draws, I realized they were not anywhere near doubling.  They weren't even rising the recommended 66%, either.  I hadn't spoken to the RE's office in over a week (we just left messages), so I called them just to check in on these numbers.  Their response was honest and appreciated, but left me very sad and completely overwhelmed:  "Well, the numbers are rising slowly, but it's too early to tell anything.  They are certainly not where they we'd like to see them, but next week will be telling." 

And so, I have spent the entire weekend shrouded in this blanket of sadness.  Ironically, after having spent the last two weeks of not feeling pregnant at all, my symptoms have finally shown up-but just mildly.  At first, we told ourselves this was good...it wouldn't be molar pregnancy with such low numbers and mild symptoms.  And with all my losses, I have had pretty intense symptoms, so maybe feeling good was pointing towards a different, but healthy pregnancy. 

If this doesn't work, and it's looking that way, well, I'm going to be pretty ticked off.  I had moved on, people.  I was organizing baby things to give away!  I was figuring out how to sell some, give to pregnant friends, and donate the rest.  I was ready to put this behind me and just enjoy the life I've been given.  I was ready to plan another trip to Disney or set up lots of fun adventures for Builder Boy and myself.  I was handling and truly joyful for friends who were pregnant.  I was able to look at a newborn or infant and smile.  I was able to look at random pregnant women and not lose it.  I was moving on.  I didn't ask for this...I didn't try for this.  In our estimation, if we had been trying, we were a week too late with Remodel Man's travel schedule.  So why?  Why be granted yet another hope, one not asked for, only to have it taken away?  What is the lesson in all this?  And the big question, Why would God do this?  (oh yea, I went to "that place.")

So now we wait.  I have another blood draw on Monday, and I'm assuming if I ever get anywhere near the required levels for an ultrasound, we'll be having that.  I can't quite believe we are in this place again...

A Little Bit Dizzy and a Whole Lot Scared

Two weekends ago, on a rare non-rainy day in Western Pa, I decided to do some gardening.  Well, if you count putting easy to grow annuals into the clay we have around here gardening, then yes, I was gardening.  But really, I was just putting flowers into the ground.  Anyway, I was up and down a little bit and it was warm, but not super warm.  And I got dizzy.  Super dizzy.  Dizzy in that I-am-so-drunk-and-the-entire-world-is-spinning-dizzy.  The first day is happened, I counted it as a low blood pressure issue.  I do tend to have low blood pressure and often get dizzy when I am bending over and get up quickly.  On day two of my adventures in dizziness, I started to get worried.  Why was I dizzy?  Was this vertigo?  Could something be really wrong with me?  So I went onto the Internet and did some research. 

And then I went upstairs and took a test...and I passed the test. The kind of test that I routinely fail...are you all with me?

I'm pregnant. (take a moment to pick your jaws off the floor...)

(Okay, ready?)  Now, for most people, seeing those digital words, "Pregnant" bring joy to their lives.  For me, seeing that word made me the exact opposite of joyful.  Don't get me wrong, I would LOVE to be joyful.  I would love to not know what I know, or have experienced what I have experienced, but alas, I do know and have experienced.  And so, as I looked at the test, my first reaction was complete and total horror. 

I can't do this again.  I can't go through another loss.  I just can't.  I have rallied through the last three losses with what I consider pretty amazing strength, but I can't do it again.  And while I know it could work, let's be real here...the odds are pretty much in favor of it not working.  I'm not being pessimistic, just realistic. 

I waited a few days to call my RE.  They just laughed and shook their heads and sent me for the official test.  I have had four tests since then.  As usual, my progesterone tanked, so they put me on progesterone supplements.  The dates are a little off...if we use the date of my LMP, things are "not looking good," but if we use the date of conception (because I know the exact date due to Remodel Man traveling this month!), we're right in line.  The beta numbers are doubling accordingly, so I suppose this is good. But the overwhelming thought in my head is, "We have been here before..." because we have been here before and things didn't end well.  Why would this time be different?  My eggs suck, his sperm are mediocre at best. History is a bit discouraging.

But do not be fooled...We want this.  More than anything, we want this.  Of course, I have been freaking out because of only intermittent symptoms.  Of course, I figured out the due date.  Of course, I'm thinking of names.  Of course, we are already in love with the idea of another child.  Of course. 

Hope sucks.

Will you sit with me these next few weeks?  Hold my hand as we go from test to test and then onto the ultrasound? 

I cannot believe we are here again... 

Surgical Regrets

Remember the Frank Sinatra song..."My Way?"  Let me refresh your memory. "Regrets...I've had a few..."  I find myself singing this song today for that line.  I had my laproscopic surgery on Thursday to determine if I had endometriosis and to remove any scar tissue found.  Last week was a whirlwind of fear and unexpected hospital stays that culminating in a surgery that may have proved to be unnecessary.  Let's recap.

On Sunday, my father was taken to the ER for two days of vomiting and severe stomach cramps.  He was admitted and had his gallbladder removed Monday night.  Besides finding an adominal anuerysm, all went well.  I was going to cancel my surgery yet again, but because they were able to do the gallbladder removal laproscopically, I decided to go ahead with my own procedure.  The days before I had to spend figuring out how to get Builder Boy to and from school, have someone to watch him after school, how to get me to and from the hospital, and how to function alone post-anesthesia.  My go-to gal (my mom) had her hands full with my dad and my other go-to gal (my sister) is so busy at work we didn't want to bother her.  It was stressful to say the least.  Couple this with an overwhelming fear that I would die during the surgery and I was a pleasure to be around.  I spent showers sobbing thinking about all that could go wrong and that how irresponsible this was fo us to do while we already had a child.  I wasn't sleeping as I thought about poor Builder Boy growing up without me.  And I thought of all the pressure on Remodel Man to go it alone.  Yes, I know this was anxiety working on me.  A very dear friend pointed this out to me and it helped me in dealing with the fear. 

Dad came home on Wednesday and was doing well, so mom and dad decided that she would come down and pick up Builder Boy from school and stay with him until we got home.  This alleviated some stress, but also added to it-dad would be home alone and what if something happened? With my aunt and my dad's best friend on call, mom headed down to help out with many phone calls home to her honey.

I woke up Thursday less anxious and feeling more prepared.  The hospital we go to is an amazing place with the kindest staff I've ever experienced in a hospital.  They held my hand (literally) through both D&Cs and encouraged me to cry as we waited for both procedures.  They asked me questions about my life and got to know me.  They cracked jokes and answered questions.  This visit to the hospital was no different.  They were kind, supportive, encouraging and put me at ease.  They clearly respect my doctor and he clearly holds them in high esteem.  The procedure went fine and I went into recovery with another set of kind and amazing nurses.  Besides throwing up immediately upon waking (OUCH!), the rest of the recovery went okay.

So the regret part?  The doctor found some signs of scar tissue, which he removed, but it wasn't much.  Stage 1 or maybe Stage 2.  Just from some minor research, with such little amounts of it, the surgery was probably unnecessary and was probably not the reason for our inability to get or stay pregnant.  And this was very discouraging.  I feel very weepy about losing out on a beautiful fall weekend with my son because of a procedure that probably isn't going to give him a sibling.  I am using up three precious sick days for nothing.  I woke up last night sick with a fever that has yet to break.  I am worried about infection or something worse.  And for what?

I know there was no way to know how severe the endometriosis was without surgery, but I just feel like our desperation has reached new levels when I thought we were heading into the acceptance phase of this infertility journey. Our next steps?  No idea...

 

A Time to Relax

As I type this, I am sitting in a most quaint sun room, the perfect place for reading good books.  I am surrounded my windows and as I look out them, I can see families packing up their sun weary bodies after a long day at the beach.  Faint cries of "Marco,"  "Polo" drift up from the swimming pool below as my nephews and a few sisters in law giggle and splash.  Builder Boy is downstairs, happily playing Lego's with my niece, happy as a clam to have a playmate for an entire week.  The rest of the 16 of us are downstairs watching a favorite movie.  I sit in silence upstairs, tucked away in this sanctuary. 

It's amazing how relaxed you can become at the beach.  The sound of the waves, the feel of the salty breeze, the warm sand and the cool water.  While my bag is stuffed with the many books I expected to read, I find that what I want to do more than anything else is to sit and observe...the pelicans as they soar above, the foamy waves in the distant horizon, the family playing on the beach below.  My mind can't concentrate on the words, the stories, the characters.  Perhaps it is my choice of books or perhaps my body has finally realized it can relax.

It didn't occur to me that I am still recovering.  Once the pain subsides, I know it's time to move on.  But two days ago, as I sighed loudly after a day of cooking, my mother-in-law said quietly, "You're still recovering."  She said it in passing, almost as an afterthought, yet, I know her well enough to know that she had wanted to say it, wanted me to hear this, knew that I needed to hear it.  Like any loss, others forget that you are grieving.  They continue their own lives not held down by your unbearable sorrow.  This is, of course, understandable, but it does cause you to feel rather alone.  My mother-in-law's simple statement was reassuring and comforting-I AM still recovering.

My RE's office called yesterday...my final pathology reports came back.  No molar pregnancy-thank the Lord.  I am relieved beyond belief and so are my veins! She also said that there was no chromosomal abnormality.  There was nothing wrong with the baby.  While this is good news, I am terrified that I jumped the gun and did the D&C too soon.  If I had waited to miscarry naturally, would the baby have lived?  Was the baby just a slow-growing little thing?  Did I kill my own baby?  I trust my doctor that there was no heartbeat, that this was not a living baby, but it is terrifying nonetheless. And the what ifs abound.  Still, with all this info I was still handling the phone message well.

And then the message said, "We have the sex of the baby.  If you want to know, let us know." And that's when I felt it all over again.  Like someone had socked me in the gut, the breathe taken right out of me. 

And I had to remind myself that we are at the beach, and it is my time to relax...

Random Thoughts After Loss

I'm home alone right now.  Not a good thing after pregnancy loss #3.  I'm still not feeling well.  I am extremely tired, very nauseated, a bit crampy, and naturally very sad.  This recovery has been much more difficult than the last time.  Perhaps it's the tearing that occurred during surgery or perhaps this body of "advanced maternal age" is just feeling it all more deeply.  Nonetheless, it's been rough. 

Laying around gives you time to think...this is also not a good thing.  But it does call to mind some random thoughts that I've been having. 

1.  I feel blessed.  I watch Builder Boy and know that no matter how bad things get, he is here.  He is our miracle.  He is our "meant to be."  He is an amazing, creative, funny, clever, challenging, loving, crabby, silly, dancing boy.  He is.

2. I will be 38 this fall.  Yes, this is five months away, but it feels like it's now.  I am not one who usually is bothered by her age, but as I close in on the end of my fertile years (yea, go ahead and laugh...fertile?! HA!), I am feeling a bit leary of each new birthday.

3. I am terrified that this pregnancy was a molar.  Complete, partial-it doesn't matter.  The long wait, the weekly blood draws, the constant reminder of what isn't happening-I just can't do it again.  And if it is that, I think that will be the end of our "trying."  And I have very mixed feelings on this.

4.  It makes me crazy when I acknowledge that my file is now marked, "recurrent pregnancy losses."  This happens to other people.  Not me.  Yet, here I am.  And it is me.

5.  I have a pregnant colleague and when I was walking down the hall on my way to my last ultrasound, I thought to myself, "I cannot stand her pregnant face."  This is not a nice thing and it is not me.  She is delightful and glowing and I am happy for her.  But I will live the next 6 months that my belly should be growing watching hers grow.  I will listen to all her happiness while still grieving my own losses.  I am not looking forward to this. 

6.  People keep asking me what they can do for me.  I don't know what to say.  I am not talkative about this.  I don't know what to say.  It sucks.  I'm sad.  I wish I could give someone something to do for me, but I just don't know what that is.

7.  Builder Boy finishes preschool this week.  I was already incredibly sad about yet another milestone, but now it will be much worse.  He is very excited about his new school and for this I am glad.  But it is sad to leave a place you've grown accustomed to.  And I am sad.

Lots of sad...

I'm Okay

I'm okay.  Today went well.  The surgery went mostly well (some tearing in the woohoo because I wasn't dilating-a few stitches up there...).  I have more pain for this D&C than I did last year, so this year, I am indulging and taking the per.co.cet.  Woo, it makes me dizzy!

The nurses and phlebotomists and anesthesiologists were all so nice and compassionate.  I got a little teary and the two nurses in the room at the time let me cry for a bit...really the first time I've been able.  It felt good. 

So now, I'm resting.  Eating lots of bad-for-you foods and drinking caffeine...because I can.  :)

Thank you to those who have sent me their prayers and good thoughts.  Let the healing begin!

What Would You Do?

On our way to the appointment, we made a decision: we would not pursue any procedures because we could not afford to.  We have already spent $40,000 on procedures that didn't work and we are maxed out.  So, no procedures. What we wanted was information.  What did this RE (for you fertile people, that's a Reproductive Endocrinologist-an infertility specialist) think of all that we had done at the last place. What would he do different?  What did he think of our fertility?

Going in, I wasn't sure if I was more terrified of the RE  telling us that the last place had done all that could be done for us or if he told us that there was something we could do and then we couldn't afford to do it.  After the exam and consult, we walked out feeling a bit shell-shocked.

He felt that our last doctor did too much too fast.  That he had skipped an obvious course of treatment that could have enhanced our fertility naturally.  He questioned much of what was done, then with a sigh, put away that file. 

Let me go back a  little bit....seven years ago, we had been trying for over a year with no luck conceiving.  My SIL recommended her doctor who had helped her have three children.  We went to see him and after a battery of test and an exam, the doctor determined that I had endometriosis and that surgery was in order.  If you know me personally, you know the rest.  As I sat in the pre-op room, waiting for my surgery, a nurse came over with a quizzical look on her face and asked, "Is there a chance you could be pregnant?"  I laughed.  You know, in that "you've got to be joking" way.  I told her that the reason I was having the surgery was that I couldn't get pregnant.  "OH!" she said. "Well, there were trace HCG elements in your urine sample so we sent it to the lab for further testing."  I was stunned.  She recommended I not get my hopes up (I wasn't) and called my family back to sit with me.  When I told Remodel Man, he didn't believe it.  We wait, only to be told thirty minutes later that the surgery was unnecessary...I was pregnant.  While not realistic or logical, we firmly believe that this doctor had a hand in this pregnancy, even though he hadn't really done anything.  He helped maintain the pregnancy (terrifying progesterone drop at seven weeks) and we are forever grateful to him for our Builder Boy.  When it came time to deal with the secondary infertility, due to a few issues, we were unable to go to him.  We ended up at a nationally known practice, and while I have no doubt we received good medical care, the patient care wasn't the best.  So, when I found myself pregnant a year and a half ago, it was the first doctor we went back to.  Let's call him Dr. ABC.  He helped me through that first miscarriage, then monitored the next pregnancy, discovered the molar pregnancy, and performed the D&C. 

So, now back to the present.  Dr. ABC told us that he feels the endometriosis is hindering our fertility.  He feels that it also was a factor in my early miscarriage.  He feels that by surgically removing the endometriosis, we will have "high chances of conceiving a child."  And then he clarified that for him "conceiving" means "delivering a healthy baby."  One laparoscopic surgery.  4-7 days recovery.  Does this fall under the "we can't afford to do it" fear? 

Nope.  It's covered by insurance.  We can do it the first week of May.  And while I know I will choose to do this, I wonder, what would you do?  Do you risk going back to "the dark place" of infertility for a chance at what you have only dreamed about?  Or do you walk away and enjoy the life you have now?