Who me?

It has been ages since I’ve visited here.  It’s not that I have moved beyond, no longer feel the need, but I am genuinely crazy busy.  There seems to be a never-ending stream of laundry, things to be cleaned, small humans to care for, medical appointments to attend.  It’s been a year full of travel, emotional highs and lows, and here I sit with a sinus infection, three baskets of laundry to put away, and a warm mug of cider.  It’s just a normal morning where a trip to the grocery store is needed, there is a juror summons for my husband that needs to be mailed in, the coffee is brewing, children need dressing, and there is a enormous to do list next to me. Still wondering what to do with my IVF needles, wondering when I can finally organize the kitchen, etc.

Fall is coming, and it’s my absolute favorite time of year.  I know most people tend to dislike fall in favor of spring.  I love the crisp air, the fresh apples and the pie that’s created from them, the smell of the heat kicking on, the need to snuggle deep under the blankets, the thrill of the upcoming holidays and how they bring family close together.  This year has brought may challenges, and we’ve made some huge decisions.  Just like the weather, our season is changing too.  We mailed in our embryo donation form.  We have one lone soldier left, and I can only hope that it turns into a wonderful child for another family.  It signaled the end of our family building journey.  It’s been eight years of struggling.  We are ready to move forward.  Our time in the trenches of adoption, IVF, and treatments are drawing to a close.  I am so thankful that the opportunity for us to adopt and go through treatment were available to us, and I’m thankful for the success and failures we’ve had.  They’ve certainly changed me, and I’m ok with that.  I’m content with the path I’ve traveled and the course I’ve yet to chart.

There is nothing of crazy to note here.  I tagged, priced, labeled, and put on hangers 450 items to sell at our local enormous children’s consignment sale that is held twice a year here.  My husband is happy to have the extra attic space, and I will be thankful for the extra money to put towards number three (to be named Piper.)  I have canceled a rather invasive test for Braden, and feel really good about it.  I think that the results will not give us enough information to justify the distress it will cause him.  We work tirelessly on helping Eve learn to control her rather impressive temper and need to claim everything as hers.  I will be 24 weeks tomorrow.  This pregnancy is nothing like the last.  I am larger, more uncomfortable, and feel a million times more movement since Eve was in the Frank position (arms and legs over her head.)  We are excited, but really trying to handle logistics.  We need to sell our vehicle and get one that fits three children in it within the next few moths.  We have three bedrooms and there isn’t a prayer of our children doubling up.  So, we’re working on creating another room.  It’s just busy around here.  :-)  A good busy.  A busy I never imagined during those darkest moments of infertility hell.  I know exactly how lucky I am, despite Braden’s diagnosis.

Speaking of that diagnosis.  I do blog much more frequently over on his site.  The link is at the top of this blog.  I’m coping.  I have good days.  I have bad days.  It will always be this way for the rest of my life.  I have moments where I struggle with anxiety, and moments where A-T and it’s nastiness eludes me entirely as I am so wrapped up in how amazing he is.  As I watched the September 11th footage yesterday, I remember how the lives of so many were changed so abruptly.  Our saga is a more drawn out affair.  Neither is preferable considering the outcome, but I do know that I need to tell him I love him as much as humanly possible.  So, I’m ending this here to go and squeeze my two miracles whom I love to pieces despite their making me want to tear my heart out daily.

Up and Away

Tuesday I leave for my brother and his bride’s wedding.  Due to finances and work constraints, it will be a week with no children or my husband in St. Lucia.  I’ve been scratching my head a bit packing.  We have been attempting to build our family for nearly eight years now, and have actually been parents for four.  So, there are no diapers or pull ups to pack for this trip.  It struck me that it is now my new norm.  It is now odd to not pack for small people.  Hmm.  Kind of cool.

I still battle nausea, food and smell aversions.  Please don’t let this get in my way of having fun and relaxing.  Also hoping that the quiet times don’t lead me down “that path.”  That dark lonely dusty road where those thoughts lurk of what is happening to my child.  I do my best to not go there, to keep busy enough where there is no time to think…just do.  Nothing good ever comes of “going there.” So, here’s to finding a week of peace and fingers crossed no nausea.

Not much else going on here.  Off to eat some breakfast.

 

Thinking should be mandatory before speaking.

I am going to be frank with you. Before you go and try to make somebody feel better, before you offer up some friendly advice, please think. While you are pretending to listen, but are secretly formulating your response, just try to stop and really hear what the person you are talking to is saying. Just for a few seconds try to imagine being in their shoes. Then, look at the person you are talking to and think, what would make them feel better. Do not say what would make YOU feel better. If the person you are talking to is in some form of a crisis, think of their needs. When you face a crisis, perhaps the person listening to you will take this same advice and allow it to be about the person who is in need.

Perhaps I am a social land mine for topics of conversation. We are a couple that battled infertility (Do not complain to me about your children endlessly,) adopted (Please do not say “Real Mom” to me, or I will poke your eye out with the nearest object I can locate,) adopted a child of a different race (I have perfected the snarky, “Why do you ask?” in response to asking if my handsome son is mine. I also have no tolerance for racial slurs,) used donor gametes to reproduce (I do not need any reassuring that she is still mine since I carried her. I am very comfortable with the role I play in my children’s lives thankyouverymuch!), have a special needs child (Enough with the looks people. As if your child NEVER was overwhelmed or threw a fit in a store. Pleeeeease,) and to boot he has a terminal condition (Again, please do not complain to me about your children. We can trade circumstances, ok? Your kid can have the terminal condition, and mine can live. That work better for you?) I am just saying perhaps there are a lot of ways people could say the wrong thing. To compensate, I have really chilled out on a lot of things, and realize now that I can help people understand if I remember to breathe in and out and speak in a rather pleasant tone of voice.

Where does all this angst come from right now? Hmmm…perhaps the stupid anonymous email that said, “Jesus will heal my child.” You can take that argument and shove it where the son doesn’t shine. Would you say that to the A-T mother who lost her six year old? Why didn’t he save her child? Why would mine be any different? Do you have some crystal ball that can predict that this will happen? To follow that up with, “God has a plan,” doesn’t help your case. Did you see the details of this plan? Does it involve my child and all other A-T children being healed and getting to live their lives productively? I promise you I don’t want to hear anything about this plan unless it involves my child outliving me and able to take care of himself. Unless you know that the person you are speaking to has strong faith, even then, do not bring God/Jesus/Allah/Buddah/ etc. into the conversation. It makes me want to spit nails. Know your audience. You are not helping, you are hurting me immensely. Telling me my child will be fine due to some plan, does not help. The cold hard truth is that it makes you feel better. I, on the other hand, will one day be making funeral arrangements for my child. How would you feel about that plan if it was your child you were burying? Don’t answer that.

Ok, my angst is now spilled out here, and I can go back to doing better things. I am going to make some banana bread with the kids, watch the rain, and perhaps go play in some puddles! As my dad said to Braden today, “That’s what they are made for!” Why lament the rain, when we can enjoy splashing in the puddles? Now I can forget about that silly email and enjoy my evening. Thanks. Rant over.

PS: Was too annoyed to proofread.  Sorry folks.

9 Weeks & Family Update

My computer is dead, and so his was typed on an iPad that auto corrects and wouldn’t scroll to let me proofread. Grumble…grumble. Sorry!

Our family is hanging in there. Braden still has a cold going on three weeks now. Genevieve has hit a big growth spurt, and now her dresses that fit only a week ago are now nearly shirts. She’s tall and lean that one! Braden asserts his independence daily, and we are happy to give all he can get. He’s very much four with the attitude to prove it. On the other hand, he’s insanely nurturing and helpful. Eve is every bit of two. She is doing great with potty training. Although she has started pooping when she is supposed to be napping and pairing with it. Beyond gross!

My life has been a bit miserable lately. I am nauseous 24/7, and I have serious food and smell aversions. I get hungry, but everything I try to eat makes me want to puke. I gag food down. I am exhausted. I am ready for the second trimester. I am positive my husband and kids want their wife and mom back. I am ready to enjoy life again.

Today’s 9 week ultrasound showed a slightly small hematoma. So still supposed to take it easy. I will et another scan in 2 weeks with my OB. I looked up the information, and I am quite a bit nervous if this issue doesn’t resolve itself soon. Today we saw the tiniest Winks wiggling all over the place. He/she was facing the camera and giving us a great show!

For those that read the previous post.

Thank you for your kind words everybody who has come through LFCA. I want to make sure you know that while we lost one child as of last week, we still had one in there. I didn’t want you to be caught off guard if you didn’t realize. We go back on tomorrow to check for continued development. I still cramp pretty severely if I move around and do too much. Have some questions tomorrow. Bleeding has remained brown. Severe food and smell aversions combined with constant nausea. Hanging in there. If this doesn’t work we are done forever. This has been quite hard on everybody. Emotionally I am a bit all over the place.

What does a miscarriage feel like?

Some topics seem too taboo to talk about. Often the most difficult things we go through in life make horrible over dinner conversations. So, they become something only discussed in hushed tones with only a select few if at all. It’s understandable that these tough topics aren’t going to win any popularity contests, but there is also a need for information, understanding, and camaraderie amongst those who experience such hardships. So, while I doubt anybody would have the courage to ask what exactly it was like to go through a miscarriage, I can assure you many are curious. It’s the verbal version of rubbernecking at an accident site.

As always, you know that I will be quite blunt. If you are squeamish, feel free to walk out on this post and drop back by another time when I’m talking about sunshine and daisies. You have been warned. What follows is in rough time frames, because I wasn’t exactly watching a clock.

6 AM:
Uggghhh, every morning my cell pone vibrates and reminds me that it’s time to insert more progesterone. It’s a task I complete three times a day to help my unborn child continue to grow. I hit the end button and it ceases to vibrate as I make a slow saunter into the bathroom to complete my mission. I fall back asleep within minutes.

6:45:
Braden wakes me up and let’s me know that the sun is up so we should be too. He then makes his very predictable request for some chocolate milk. I head into the kitchen and hit brew on the coffee pot.

6:50:
As I am unwrapping Braden’s Prevacid to put in his milk, I feel a warm trickle. At this point, I am quite used to the progesterone burn, but this was different. This was warm and thin. Progesterone is thicker. I am certain I have a look of panic in my face, but quickly regain my composure. I walk quickly to the bathroom.

6:55:
Justin gets the kids settled in our bedroom with cartoons as I start to wipe continuously at the blood that has started to trickle out of me. I do not panic because I had some bleeding with Eve around this same time.

7:00:
Just as I was about to stand up and go put my feet up, a strange pressure builds and my uterus clamps down. The next thing I know, I pass a large clot. Now, I am seriously worried. I give things a few minutes, as there is a few drips here and there that make their way to the toilet.

7:15:
I make a call to the on-call nurse at our doctor’s office. She tells me all the things that I need to hear and instructions on what to do. I elevate my feet, drink plenty of water, and continue my meds. If anything worsens to call her back.

7:25:
Call my mom in tears.

7:30:
The bleeding intensifies and I start cramping. Sitting on the toilet, Justin holds my hand and asks if I’m ok. No, I am far from ok. This is scary. The bleeding is getting much worse, and we both look at each other in fear. Should I go to the hospital? Before I can verbalize it, I brace myself on his arms as a strong cramp occurs and my body does something that is quite natural. It expels a large amount of tissue. It was the size of a deck of cards. It becomes clear that this is not just a slight bleeding episode. This isn’t a small blip on the radar, but a really big deal. I start crying yet again. I pass several more clots consecutively. 

8:15:
I have my legs up on the side of our whirlpool tub and a towel underneath me,and I continue to bleed. The cramps at this point are getting worse. I phone the nurse again. Now we are all concerned. We come up with options and discuss them. We opt to wait things out at home as long as the bleeding slows. Moments later my mom arrives.

8:25:
Justin leaves with the children who are excited to have an outing. Justin does not want to leave, but I nearly beg him. I need the kids out of the house to make it through this.  Braden becomes quite unsure as to what is going on, but leaves willingly. I manage to move to the bed, but I feel weak, scared, and am in some pain. My bleeding slows considerably, but my cramps have shot up to a nine on the pain scale. With Genevieve I didn’t get an epidural until 8 cm, and so I can assure you that I completely know what transition labor feels like. This my friends was just like it. I hurt like hell. I took deep breaths, put myself in yoga positions, and did my best to work through it.

9 am:
The nurse calls to check in on me. She phones in some Tylenol 3 for me and insists that it won’t hurt a developing baby should one still remain.

10 am:
Time starts to blend together. Cramps and bleeding become a hideous cycle. I wonder why the hell I ever thought this cycle would end in a baby. I keep my emotions together, and instead focus on what comes next. We scan on Monday, where I know I will see an empty uterus. Then, I can ask when I can hit the treadmill again.

10:45:
Frustrated I attempt to shower. No such luck. I become dizzy and end up right back in bed. The only bonus is there is no nausea for the first time in weeks.

11:00:
My mother has been folding my laundry and picking up while chatting to distract me. Then, she comes in with some lunch. I eat it, and I feel slightly better.

11:15:
The kids come back home and tell me all about their adventure! Braden comes in with a glass of water and demands that I drink it. None of us sent him to do so, but he said I NEEDED it. He turns into my personal nurse and refuses to leave my side for the next few hours. I fall in love with him all over again, and do my best to not think of life without him. What can I say? My emotions were out of control.

1:00:
I take the Tylenol 3 and start to feel the pain ease down to a four. I continue bleeding, but not to the point where I have to change a pad every twenty minutes.

2:00 – 7:00:
Very long hours where clots continue to be passed, my uterus remained hostile, and exhaustion settles in. I am asleep by seven.

The next day my mom comes over while my husband takes the children to my brother and sister in-law’s house. Ok, she will be my SIL in about a month, but with her dedication to watching my children for the next five days she can so have the 30 day advance on the title. We basically ignore everything on Sunday. We pretend it didn’t happen and talk about celebrity gossip, weather, cooking, and anything else we can come up with. I spend the day in good spirits but utterly exhausted.  I crash and burn again at seven. 

So, in short it was something out of a horror movie.  There was tears, blood, pain, and fear.  I wouldn’t have made it through without my husband who is immensely supportive.  He held my hand, reassured me that I was brave and strong, and he took care of our children when I needed him to the most.  My mom who knew exactly what I needed.  She allowed me to ignore the elephant in the room.  My friends who sweetly dropped off meals and sent emails of support. My brother and his future wife with all their help with the children make the days following so much easier. Perhaps women should talk about this, because when you do, you allow people to be there to support you.  It’s not an easy thing to go through physically or emotionally.  We need to  make it ok to talk about it.  It’s gross, yes.  However, it’s the loss of a life.  That bears a little bit of discomfort.

Alive

Just realized I had not updated my blog. I have next to no energy at the moment so I will cut short any light banter, theatrics, beating around the bush. Despite all odds, there is still one baby in there with a beating heart. It’s nothing short of a miracle. We are shocked, nervous, and over joyed. Taking things one day at a time. I’m on modified bed rest right now. So, lots of sitting, watching tv, etc. Not lifting, tugging, pulling, etc.

My computer took this opportunity to get a nasty virus and no longer work. Good times. So, I am here, but quite the mess right now.

Much love,
B

Monday

Monday we Will know if we lost our baby. It has been a very long, painful, and emotional day. Standing in the kitchen bright and early I knew the warm sensation I felt was not the now regular progesterone drip. I headed to the bathroom, and you can see where this goes. It was a messy, painful, and tear filled experience. So, with my doc out of town and the bleeding diminished, I will stay on bed rest until Monday. One more excruciatingly long day to wait through.

Could there still be a baby in there? Well, anything is possible. Odds are no. Although I am certain we no longer will ever talk about odds under this roof again. There is just no way to know. I am continuing my mess, putting on my best brave face, and doing my best to stay calm and relaxed. We will know more on Monday. Monday, Monday, Monday you feel like an eternity away.

We could have gone to the ER, but if the bleeding slowed, I would have been sent home. If it continued, they would have had be do a D&C. If the miscarriage was not finished we could have seen our child we would still lose. That would have been excruciating. So, since it slowed and the pain has finally eased, I will just wait. I was told they had seen worse achieve success and seen less become loss. So, again, we wait.

For those who don’t announce pregnancies until 12 weeks, know this. The outpouring of love and support is so helpful. Nobody can help if they don’t know. It is hard to tell everybody, but the hands, ears, and shoulders mean so much. Thank you for all the love and support. I will update you soon.

Yes, I could have gone to the ER, but if

12 weeks is a long time.

We are six weeks and four days into the first trimester. That leaves thirty-eight more days of feeling simply awful. With Eve, I took ani-nausea pills that did the trick. There is no such relief this time. There truly isn’t a minute that goes by where I don’t feel icky. Yes, I am complaining. Yes, there are scores of women who would give anything to feel this crappy. Yes, I am so thankful, but I need a little relief here. The constant hangover is very hard to handle while parenting and trying to have fun while doing it with my other children. We have been working on this child for five months already! Pills, shots, and more for five months! Yowza.

Our next scan is Wednesday, and we will get to see if there is still one in there.

We have recently gone on a super fun double date, and are headed out to play some pool tonight. My brother and future sister in-law’s wedding is in a few short weeks on the beautiful island of St. Lucia. It coincidesnwith the end of my first trimester. What a way to celebrate! I am a bit, ok more than a bit, sad that Justin doesn’t get to go. I will miss him and the kids, but I am certain I will find a way to manage!

Beta

Yesterday’s beta result is 3,140. That’s 20 days post ovulation, 36 days past last menstrual period, 15 days post 5 day transfer, 5 weeks and 1 day pregnant. However, you wish to classify it. Beta Base isn’t working at the moment, but I was told to “be prepared” to see twins at our ultrasound. We will be thankful for what miracles may occur, but we had high hopes of a singleton pregnancy. So, I will just sit quietly and wait and see. If it is in fact twins, we will rejoice and hope for a very uneventful and looooong pregnancy.