Remembering Baby J

Today is a hard day.  It's my due date for the baby that I lost after my first IVF. 

I feel more than what I can/will write here, but I just wanted to say that although I am very thankful for the blessings headed my way in the spring, I will never be okay with the loss of Baby J.

So today, I am thinking about my angel baby gone too soon. 

You Gotta Pick and Choose Your Battles

So, I spent most of Monday evening just being generally annoyed that my OB never got back to me about my request for Zo.fran.  I went to bed nauseous, woke up nauseous and all morning Tuesday plotting how I would chew the nurses out for not getting back to me.  Thankful for common sense, I called the pharmacy just to make sure that there wasn't a prescription waiting for me.  Well, there was.  Since the day before. Oops.

I rushed off to pick it up and just couldn't wait to gobble it up and start feeling semi-human again.  I took my first dose immediately and six hours later, like clockwork, I took my second.  I was feeling great.  Until I wasn't feeling great. At all.

I woke up at 11:30 Tuesday night with a splitting headache. Like full-on migraine pain.  After I rolled back and forth on the bed holding my face in my hands for a good hour, I got up and staggered to the kitchen for a cup of tea. I figured a little caffeine would probably do the trick. Wrong. Three hours later, I was plotting driving myself to the ER.  You see, typically, when I have a migraine, at some point I puke.  That signals a turning point in the headache.  After puking, I always am able to go to sleep and when I wake up, I'm better.  Well, there would be no puking this time. You see, I was on Zo.fran and couldn't throw up. I wasn't even nauseated. Just had severe head/neck pain.  Anyway, at some point, I fell asleep.

I woke up to my DH saying goodbye as he was heading off to work and wondering why I was sleeping with a "towel on my face" (it was a washcloth).  He was completely unawares of the night I had.  When he left, I got up and went out to the kitchen, feeling a little better and eager to eat a little something even though my nausea was sneaking up on me again.  After I gagged down a piece of toast, I reached for my Zo.fran.  Before I could take the pill, I checked out the side of the bottle and there it was. Plain. As. Day.

"May Cause Headaches"

Well, eff that.

Le Sigh

I hate Thursdays.

For the record, I realize it's Wednesday, but I hate Thursdays and Thursday is tomorrow and I probably won't blog tomorrow, so I'll just say it now - I hate Thursdays.

You see, each Thursday I would have turned another week pregnant. This week's Thursday, also known as "tomorrow", I would have been ten weeks pregnant. Two weeks from proclaiming to the world that we are were happily expecting. Now each passing Thursday propels me one week closer to an unfulfilled due date. Figures. Stupid Thursday. Not cool enough to be "hump day" and not fun enough to be celebrated as the day ushering in the weekend.

There is a whole Facebook page dedicated to the hatred of Thursdays. I will most likely be joining it.

Grief

I don't want to let another day pass without at least telling you all that, physically, I am okay.  The D&C went as expected and I am no longer pregnant.

I am no longer pregnant.

My baby is dead. Gone. Never going to be born. Never going to be loved and looked after and cared for and cherished.

I am in a pretty fucking dark place right now.  There is nothing to satisfy the emptiness I feel.

I just want my baby back.

Confirmation (Updated)

There was no heartbeat today at my ultrasound.

My clinic is going to schedule a D&C this week.

**My D&C is this Wednesday, April 27th. I am so thankful they are getting me in so soon.**

Letting Go

My whole body hurts. From the middle of my back to my knees, I feel my whole body gearing up for what I only imagine is going to be one hell of a period.  It's getting ready to let go. And I have been, too.

I want to thank you all for your thoughts and sweet comments. Some of you have been cheering me on since my first post. Others, my first injection. Still others, my first beta.  I am so appreciative of all of the support I have received during what had been a crazy, bumpy ride. 

Truth be told, I think this is coming to an end. I know there's no way to know for sure until my appointment on Monday. Call it mother's intuition, I think my baby is tired. It's okay to let go. I've been telling her since yesterday that if it would be easier to go, I only want her to know first that I've been dreaming about and wanting her for so long and I want nothing more to be her mom, but that I understood.

I will miss this baby every single day. I know it will be hard to deal with, but I have been told a lot by my DH that he thinks I have been strong and handled everything really well. I hope that I can grieve this loss and find a way to go forward.  Although it is not the outcome we had hoped, it is an answer and it is a way to move on and start living again. 

Oh, my sweet baby....

If it Weren't for Bad News, There Would be No News

Warning: I curse at the end of this post. Offended? Don't read.

Last night, I ran a fever.  Out of concern, I called the RE's office and let them know. Of course, they wanted me to come in so they could take a look.  The good news? RE thinks that the fever is viral and that it would pass within a day or two.

Bad news:  Fetal heart rate was down to 97. Monday it was 103.  RE is "concerned".  Says time will tell and we will recheck on Monday.  He also marked my check-out sheet "high risk pregnancy" for the first time ever and I found the reason why on Dr. Google.

http://radiology.rsna.org/content/236/2/643.full

Don't feel like reading it? Here is the gist.  In 300 pregnancies where a low embryonic heart rate was found at 6-7 weeks (low = 100 bpm or less at 6.3 - 7.0 weeks), 188 or 60.6% ended before the first trimester was over.  Many ended within a week.  (As in, go back for recheck and find out that fetal cardiac activity had ceased.)

I fall into this category. Yay! Can't wait to go in on Monday and see whether or not my baby died. And the best part? Even if the heart rate recovers, my chances of "first trimester demise" are still 25% higher than most pregnancies.

Fuck you IVF. Fuck the last 3 months of my life and all the hope I had that this bullshit would work, too.

Teetering

My happiness from Tuesday's ultrasound was sweet, but short-lived.  Late Tuesday night, I passed several (five or so) clots and went in for another u/s. Baby was fine. Heartbeat was visible to me from where I was laying.  I was told that at this point, I have a 50/50 chance of miscarrying.  Although I hate those odds, I left feeling relieved.  My breathing came easier to me having seen my baby. Now, I am back to the place where everything is distorted. Every positive, good feeling is punctuated by a question mark. Every dark, morbid thought is made darker with uncertainty and fear.

I just went to the bathroom and passed another clot along with some bright red blood. Now I am back to dark brown spotting.  I don't know what to do or think. I cannot go rushing in for an u/s every time I see tissue. I feel like I should know by now that a few small clots does not a miscarriage make. At this point, I should feel confident that I've beaten the bleeding before and that everything will be fine. I should be able to coast until Monday and just see then what is going on.  It's quite easy to separate my logical thinking when I'm sitting here blogging from how I feel when I go to the bathroom and feel like I'm looking at a crime scene.  When I'm there, I just want to rush to the phone and call my doc and go running to his office.

I am tired. I am scared. I am tired of being scared. I feel like I'm teetering on the edge of heartbreak. Just when I think I can take a step back and turn away, I am forced to step even closer to the ledge and stare wide-eyed into what would certainly be one of the most awful experiences in life.

It's Over

I woke up bleeding this morning.

Puke and Poop: Repeat!

This post is about my sick nine-year-old and all the lovely bodily functions that come along with the stomach flu. I understand if you don't want to read or comment, but this is what's going on in my world since yesterday.

My big boy is sick.  It all started yesterday when I went in to wake him up for school and noticed he was kind of moaning in his sleep. I asked him what was up and he said his stomach hurt. I told him to at least try to get up and have breakfast and promised him we'd take it slow and see how he did. Three bites into his waffles, he runs to the bathroom and loses it out of both ends. :( He got a quick shower and went back to bed.  The day was uneventful and by evening he had a great dinner and I figured all would be back to normal this morning, which was good because Wednesdays are pretty busy for me. WRONG!  He puked at 1 am. He puked and pooped himself at 4 am. He pooped himself at 8 am and he pooped himself at 9 am and he pooped himself just now in the bathtub. It has to be a boy thing. My friend said her little girl would flip out if she lost control of herself in her pants or in the tub. My son acts like it's no big deal!!  :/

So, today is all about taking care of him and getting him back to his old self again. DH is out of town for work (which absolutely figures) so it's me against the world today. Bring it! I've got Clorox, Lysol, AND butt wipes. :)

If you are here from ICLW, you can get caught up with what's going on with us here.

Solitary Confinement and One Woman's Quest for a Shower

This whole snowed in thing has certainly lost its appeal.  I'm finding myself sinking lower and lower into a state of self-pity that can only be remedied by a meal OUTSIDE THIS HOUSE.  The problem is, I require a shower to go anywhere public. "Just jump in," you suggest? I can't. I'm waiting for Mr. UPS guy to deliver my injectibles. As these things usually go, I get in the shower and DING DONG!  So, I wait.  DH isn't going to be pleased if I'm not ready to go when he gets here, but what can I do?  I'm stuck!

With all this wonderful time inside, I've been reading Pictures of You by Caroline Leavitt and the main character, Isabelle Stein, is...yep....infertile.  The issue of her infertility is but a small detail in the whole story, but it looms always. Her want for a child, her need to fulfill her maternal instinct is palpable. A particular passage resonated with me and chilled me to the bone:

Isabelle knew this phenomenon. Be tortured by something and the world was sure to serve it up to you.  Since she had moved to New York, she saw mothers and sons everywhere on the street. She could be in an empty movie theater and a parent with a child was sure to sit in the row right in front of her.

Be tortured by something and the world is sure to serve it up to you. Isn't that the truth? I want to be pregnant and since we moved to Oklahoma almost six months ago, I've been stalked by pregnancy from everywhere from the grocery store to the "fertility feed" on facebook.  I want my parents, but they are too far away.  I see mothers and daughters lunching and it stings like a slap.  I want a friend and yet there's no one.  I have acquaintances. I want an honest-to-goodness friend. I want to be me and say what I want and for them to know the real me isn't in the frustrations that I vent or the sarcasms that I speak. Every time I go out, I see friends together. They are shopping or lunching or working out together and it tortures me that I haven't a kindred spirit in this time zone. 

I am trying to prepare myself for a huge endeavor in this IVF cycle.  This is one of those colossal undertakings that typically require a support group the size of  your restaurant "large party" table.  I have my husband to lean on. And when the hormones kick in I'm probably the last person he'll want to be around, not that he understands the ins and outs of the female brain without the influence of hormonal medicinal rage, but you can't put a price tag on a good girlfriend.

I want to feel settled.


I want to feel home.


I want to feel like I belong.

I guess I'll settle for the dinner out tonight. I still really need that shower, though.

My First ICLW and a Sad Saturday :(

Yay! My first ICLW! Welcome to my blog. I'm Aub, an almost 30 something and DH will be 31 soon.  We have been TTC #3 since 2010.We were not even considered infertile by our RE (we haven't been trying yet for a year) but I started seeing him because my cycles were irregular and ovulation was not always predictable.  I just completed a perfectly timed Femara cycle this month and during it all, we found out through a s/a that DH tested positive for two antisperm antibodies.  We have been been diagnosed with MF IF and are starting down the path of IVF with ICSI.  Pretty heavy diagnosis to swallow..

Today is a sad Saturday for me. My mom, who has been visiting from West Virginia for the week, is leaving today.  We just moved from the Pittsburgh, PA area to Oklahoma City, OK five months ago and I have been so very homesick for my parents and the mountains of West Virginia.  I went back for a brief visit in November and was planning on going back with my two sons in March for spring break, but I'll be in my TWW from my ET and I think Dr. Awesome RE would heavily discourage me from traveling when I'm supposed to be giving my embies a fair shot at implanting.

Now, I'm not a selfish brat. I know what's important and what is the right thing to do. We are trying to complete our family via some of the most invasive and expensive means possible and it would be silly stupid to risk it all just to go home and visit my family and friends.  I've been debating on putting off the whole IVF cycle until I go home, see everyone that I miss, recharge, reboot, re-Aub.  Honestly, I don't know what to do.  I have my birth control pills, AF is due today.  IVF class is scheduled for Tuesday at 4.  I will need to make my appointment for Monday or Wednesday for my u/s and mapping. I feel bad because the wheels have been set in motion for IVF NOW.  Would it be so bad if I just waited? Could I just wait?

Ugh. Sorry to be such a drama queen.

Here's a song that I like.  It suits my mood today, feeling "Cuckoo":)

Cuckoo by Lissie

Post-Coital Update

They were all dead.

I don't understand why for every ounce of hope and happiness I've felt of late, a full pound of despair and sadness accompanies.

Would You Pull Yourself Together Woman??

I'm not going to lie. I'm pretty much an emotional mess today. I've tried on every single mood there is and NONE of them are suiting me.  I've let thoughts of doubt get to me and I think I've ruined my day and the day of a few friends who were victims of my texts/calls. I've purposely not spoken to DH today as to not yell at him. We are supposed to be BDing every night and I hate BDing when I'm angry.  I also can't stand the thought of DH saying the above words to me when I fly off the handle over things I obsess on.  I don't need a lecture. I need a box of tissues and a padded room.

It all started when I went over my u/s in my mind. Over and over again. I keyed in on the comment my RE made about my lining being on the "thin side."  I took that comment and within an hour convinced myself that I will not conceive this month because my lining will be way too thin. And there you have it folks. A demonstration of how a small seed of doubt can ruin the whole garden of hope.

5.8mm on CD13.  I still have time before I O (probably a good 3 days or so), but why couldn't it have been 6.5 or even just 6?  If it's not a big deal, why did my RE even say anything about it being thin? Is he trying to break it to me that things aren't looking good, but didn't want to rule out my chances just yet?  How is it that I am transfixed by a few words that he said during an otherwise very good visit? Am I crazy?

Don't answer that...

Looking For a Sign...

The transition from 2010 to 2011 was not a fun one in our household. DH and I are trying to car shop and yesterday we went to the dealership to test drive a new vehicle.  We got a late start and were feeling flustered.  Once at the dealership, we argued over everything from outside color to features and everything in between.  It felt pointless and a waste of time.  I could feel my emotions getting the best of me. This Femara has me very up and down in the mood department.

When we got home, we fought. It was awful. I couldn't stop crying and DH just piled on one hurtful comment on top of the other. He doesn't understand why I just can't be happy here and be settled. He said he's sick of living his life trying to keep me from crying. He said he hated the way "those pills" were making me act and he said he wished I'd stop taking them.  He stormed out. I'd never felt so crushed and defeated.

Part of me knows that there is much truth in what he had to say. I'm a grown woman who's really never kept her emotions under control. When I'm angry, you know. When I'm sad, you know. When I'm happy, you know.  My heart is on my sleeve. Ever since we knew that ttc was not going our way, I have been very emotional. Each busted cycle grinds me deeper into the ground and knocks the wind out of my spirit. I live 1000 miles away from my family and my friends. My whole support system is 18 hours away and DH has shouldered the brunt of my anger, sadness, frustration.  I know he feels like he has failed in making me happy since we moved here. I know I've done a bad job of telling him that it's not him, it's THIS: Everything is hard. Nothing has gone smoothly. The last six months have felt like one slap in the face after another. I'm tired. I want peace. I want results.

When he returned, he apologized for the things he had said out of anger. We didn't talk much the rest of the night. When midnight came, he was in bed and I was reading on the couch.  It was a horrible New Year's Eve. The Femara is a lot to blame. My crying and feeling super insecure all the time. I read online that many women were extremely emotional and weepy on their Femara cycles. This made me feel a little better. I still was left questioning if we are doing the right thing, though. Will I ever get a positive hpt? Am I blindly groping after something that is never going to happen? I went to bed asking for a sign, anything to give me the push to keep going on this course. Something that says, "Don't throw in the towel. Not yet."

I know it's a silly thing to ask for: a sign. What would it be? Would I even recognize it if I got one?  Would it ever come?  Then, at about 5:00 this afternoon I got my sign -

Can you believe it?! A hot air balloon in my own backyard! It was so bizarre, but I knew it was my sign!  I grabbed DH and we ran to check it out. I wanted to cry (again, the Femara) because the first thing that popped in my head as a possible meaning for this balloon to land in our backyard on the first day of the first month of 2011 was this:

Expect the unexpected!  There are more surprises in store this year!