The Meanest Trick Ever Played

  My visit to the "other side" was not meant to be permanent, I guess.  Maybe that's why I never felt I "belonged"...because maybe in my heart I knew I wouldn't get to stay.  It's normal to have worries, but I do think there was a part of me deep down that had a feeling this wasn't a take home baby.

   Yesterday, at an ultrasound I begged my OB to schedule because I was feeling uncertain, they couldn't find a heartbeat.  The baby somehow only measured 5.5 weeks, and they told me to prepare myself for a miscarriage unless I wanted to go ahead with a D&C.  I told them I had plans to go home to see my family for Christmas.  That I haven't seen my dad or most of my sisters or grandparents in a year.  They said that they didn't recommend traveling while waiting for the miscarriage to happen, since I might need medical attention.  At that time, I wasn't ready to accept what was happening and thought that I wouldn't need a D&C.  I had gone to that appointment alone, because I didn't want my husband to miss anymore work for my ultrasound appointments when we'd surely have plenty more.  So, I left there sobbing uncontrollably in front of everyone in the whole hospital (because, of course, they don't make access to that office easy).

    I went home and called my RE, because I thought that surely the ultrasound tech at the OB's office was incompetent.  There had been a heartbeat two days ago.  Why wouldn't there be still?  He had me come in this morning, and after messing with the wand for a few minutes, he said, "I'm sorry, honey.  I'm not seeing a heartbeat today. So, we need to discuss your options."  My options to get rid of this baby that I have been waiting for for so long.  I am so torn.  One part of me wants to hold out hope and think they were wrong.  Another part of me wants to do the D&C as soon as possible so that I can stop feeling pregnant and knowing that my baby isn't alive. I go from feeling numb to feeling like my heart is going to explode.  I feel totally robbed, and I feel like God is really pushing my faith.  I can't even try to understand how this could be part of His plan, but right now I wish it hadn't involved giving me a baby that I can't keep and losing it so close to Christmas.

   On the way to my ultrasound yesterday, a song that I found appropriate came on the radio, and I sang to my baby for the first and last time.

Uncertainty, go away.

   I had another ultrasound today at what should be 7 weeks and 6 days, but baby Wicks is still measuring behind at 6 weeks, 4 days.  Still trying not to freak out, since there was still a heartbeat and everything else looks good at this point, but I had really hoped to find some comfort and reassurance before making a long trip home.  I'd like to tell my family and our close friends without fear looming over me to this extent.  I have an appointment with my regular OB tomorrow, since my RE is transferring care over to her, so I feel that that's a good sign.  Hopefully, he feels everything is stable enough for me to go ahead and start seeing her.  I may beg her to check for an audible heartbeat, since my RE didn't check for one other than to see it.  On to another topic, my dogs have been super annoying.  I love these creatures beyond reason, but they are killing me by barking and pacing around the back door every five seconds the minute I lay down for a nap.  They must also be conspiring with friends and family to keep me awake, because I get more calls and texts when I'm trying to nap than the whole rest of the day.  This applies no matter what time nap time is.  I'd also like to note that my nutritional choices today have been....interesting.  I have eaten a nutrition bar, Pringles, pickle juice, and frozen mango.  I really wanted an actual pickle, but Matt is a tricky beast who left an empty pickle jar in the fridge.  I really need to do something like this.  Maybe I'll pour out all his beer, and put the tops back on the bottles, and his life will be ruined when he realizes they are all empty.  He's lucky I'm not down with wasting money.

Infertile Brain

     So, at our ultrasound Monday, baby Wicks measured a week behind.  I have been a little concerned about this, because I'm so sure of when I ovulated, so I know it isn't a matter of my dates being off by that much.  I sometimes wish I could be one of those women who are clueless about their bodies, their cycles, and basically everything pregnancy related, so that I wouldn't worry so much, but unfortunately, knowledge is important to me.  Even if there isn't much I can do with it at this point.  I am holding on to hope that seeing a heartbeat was a good sign that everything is going to be ok.

     Today, I went to Target to buy Preggie Pop Drops as a more natural nausea remedy, and as I browsed the baby and maternity sections (unsuccessfully), I couldn't help but to feel like I was out of place.  It was like it was a "members only" part of the store that I always rushed by before to spare myself the upset of seeing all the sweet baby things, and I still feel like I don't really "belong" there.  I hope that everything will be ok, and that I'll get to buy things for myself there in the near future.

    On another note, I have been thinking a lot about gratitude and infertility.  Yes, seriously.  As in those two things being related.  Although I didn't suffer what many people with an infertility diagnosis do, I do know what it feels like to have everyone around you be pregnant with little to no effort while you cry yourself to sleep in fear that you may never have biological children or that there is something wrong with you.  I know what it's like to be put through tests and tons of bloodwork only to find no solutions other than those that are extremely expensive and come with no guarantees.  Even though it caused me so much pain, bitterness, sadness, despair, and low self esteem, I don't think I'd change it if I could.  That's because I've made wonderful friends who have supported me and offered me REAL advice when I asked for it, I've grown as a person and become more prepared for what motherhood means, it's given Matt a chance to prepare more, and it's let me see how strong my marriage really is.  My husband is seldom serious about anything when I try to have a talk with him, but when I hit my all time low and didn't know what to do or what he was willing to go through with me to make parenthood a reality, he reassured me that he'd do whatever I needed him to, and that if we never had children, he would be accepting of that.  I know it works out for lots of people, but I'm honestly glad that I'm not one of the people that end up with an accidental pregnancy that they have to learn to deal with, because I am so glad to get the experience of loving and wanting this baby before "it" was even conceived.  I guess, in a way, I'm lucky.

     Now, Lord, please let my ultrasound on Monday bring good news.


 

Handing it Over

   I always imagined that once I got pregnant, I'd just live happily ever after.   I thought the hard part would be over.  It doesn't appear that that's the case.  I am not sure why I thought this, since one of the reasons I was scared to have children before is the quote, "Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body."  I have always been a worrier.  Especially when it comes to my loved ones.  After my dad's first heart attack (yes, first...), I had dreams all the time that he had died, and I would wake up feeling that pain of losing someone.  I even have dreams about my dogs drowning and that I can't save them ever since I found out that English bulldogs typically cannot swim.  So, I'm not sure why I thought that once the torture of seeing negative tests month after month was over and I had successfully begun creating a human, I wouldn't be equally as worried.  I spent the first week after finding out I was pregnant expecting it not to last.  It sounds awful, I know, but I just couldn't imagine that anything could be good or easy at this point.  Obviously, there are people who have had journeys much harder and longer than mine, but mine is all I have experienced, and that was enough for me to believe that nothing was going to come easy for us when it came to making babies.  So, I continued taking pregnancy tests to make sure that the lines kept getting darker, meaning HCG levels were continuing to rise.  I was also having my HCG and progesterone checked every other day, so the pregnancy tests were unnecessary, maybe, but who cares?  This cycle of lab work, worry, repeat continued until my first ultrasound at 6 weeks.  I felt slightly less panicked after seeing that all was there that should have been there, but I'm still anxious, of course.  What if we don't hear a heartbeat when we are supposed to?  What if at this next ultrasound Monday there is no fetal pole?  Why do I even know what a fetal pole is?  Why can't I be like most women who get to be completely ignorant to the whole process and just go in at 8-12 weeks and say, "Oh, look!  There's my baby!  Cool!  Back to doing whatever I want in complete confidence that I'll have a totally healthy baby!"  Before the ultrasound, I thought, "Once I have this ultrasound, I'll be able to relax."  Then I thought, "Well, once I have that healthy baby in my arms, I'll relax."  Ha!  That's when the real worrying is going to start.  I already check that Matt is breathing sometimes when he's asleep.  I realize now just how much I am going to have to hand it over to God.  I can't possibly live the rest of my life terrified what could happen to this little life. I know I won't be able to not have any worry, but I know it's mostly out of my hands.  I'll try to remember this next time I am ready to freak out, but I can't promise anything.  

Waking Up on the Other Side

  A few days before my period was due,  I started to prepare myself for another failed cycle and for the start of fertility drugs.  We had a military ball to go to, and I decided to take a pregnancy test just in case, because I thought I may end up having a couple drinks and wanted to play it safe.  The test was as negative as it always was, and I wasn't at all surprised.  We had a good time, and I ended up deciding not to drink anyway.  Two days later, I thought my period should have shown up, although I had been taking some supplements to increase the time between ovulation and my period, so I took another test.  Negative again, of course, so I told myself that it was time to let it go and just wait for the next cycle to begin.  However, early on the morning of November 13, I had a dream that I took a pregnancy test, and it was positive.  In the dream, I didn't believe that could be, so I kept taking them.  They were all positive.  I'd had a dream about getting a positive test before, and it had been so painful to see a stark white space where a second line should have been when I tested, so I was scared to let that happen again.  I took my temperature before getting out of bed, and it was still very high.  Especially that early in the morning.  For those that are lucky enough to never have to learn about your body in order to get pregnant, a high temperature that stays high when your period should have started is a good sign.  I told myself I was probably getting sick, but I couldn't help myself, and decided to test one more time.  As the test developed, I glanced over and saw what appeared to be another negative.  I sat on the bathroom floor and prayed for peace, for patience, and to forgive myself for putting myself through that disappointment for a third time that cycle.  As I reached for the test to throw it away, I saw something I had never seen.  Well, not on any of my tests anyway.  I saw the slightest second pink line.  I hated my eyes for playing tricks on me, and I closed them for a minute and tried to get myself together.  Surely, my poor, pathetic brain was just making my eyes see things.  But when I opened my eyes, the line was still there.  I was in total disbelief.  I hadn't relaxed.  In fact, I had had one of the most heartbreaking, frustrating, worrisome months of this whole journey, yet it appeared that it didn't matter.  Now I had a different worry.  I prayed, "Please, God.  Let this be it.  Please let this baby cling to my uterus for dear life.  Please don't give me what you cannot let me keep. Please, please, please."  And then I woke up Matt to say the words I'd been waiting a long time to be able to say.  "I think I'm pregnant."

Before the Other Side

    So, before I created this blog, I had another blog.  That blog started out as a place to update on the different places the military would take Matt and me, but it soon turned into a place for to let out my frustrations with what would become a longer journey to parenthood than I thought I'd ever experience.  That part of my life is important and has made a huge impact on my life, but I felt like it was time for a fresh start for what appears to be a new chapter that I only hope will keep developing.

     To appreciate the new chapter, I think it's important to reflect on the past 14 months.   In September of last year, Matt and I talked about whether it might be time to start trying to build a family.  This time with kids rather than dogs.  We knew we wanted children, but we wanted to be "ready".  I am not sure why I suspected deep down that it might not happen right away when everyone in my family seems to get pregnant any time they aren't already pregnant, but I just had a flicker of doubt.  I told Matt, "It could take several months."  Ha!  That would have been if we were one of the "lucky" ones.  Several months passed, then several more, and Matt was told he'd be deploying at the beginning of the next year.  My primary doctor wasn't taking my thyroid issues seriously, and with the pressure of a deployment upon us, I asked for a referral to a specialist (a reproductive endocrinologist - referred to as an RE from now on).  The RE ordered a ton of bloodwork and a couple other tests, but I went ahead with the bloodwork and was diagnosed with Hashimoto's thyroiditis, an autoimmune thyroid disease.  All my other results looked fine.  We adjusted my thyroid medicine in hopes that that would help.  A few more months went by, and still nothing.  In this time since we'd been trying, 7 friends got pregnant, and while I was genuinely happy for them, my heart was broken.  It felt like I was being punished for something, and I didn't know what.  I had waited until Matt and I were settled and emotionally and financially prepared, and there appeared to be no reward for doing things "the right way".  I got all kinds of unsolicited, insensitive advice from people who meant well, but didn't know what to say.  I heard more times than I could handle to "just relax" as if I had been stressed from the first day and as if I could stop being worried about whether we would ever be able to have children.  I heard "it will happen when you least expect it" as if I would magically just forget that we were hoping for a baby or as if I ever really expected it after over a year.  I was told, "Just enjoy being with your husband" as if every moment was spent on a strict baby making schedule that was all business.  So, basically lots of assumptions from people that haven't ever been in my shoes.  Luckily, I found a group of women on a forum that were an amazing support system and continue to be.  I found out one of the women I met there lived about 5 minutes away from me and is also a military spouse, and we became close and finally found someone that we could share our fertility struggles with in real life.

    I went through more tests and bloodwork.  Matt was tested as well.  The RE had recommended intra-uterine insemination and injectable hormones, and it looked like our chances of getting pregnant on our own were pretty slim.  I was terrified by the idea of injections and equally terrified of the estimated $3,000 out of pocket cost of a treatment that would only give us a 10-15% chance of conceiving.  I decided to try oral fertility drugs instead, and made a plan to start them on our 14th cycle, though they'd only give us about an 8% chance.  I found out that the naval hospital in San Diego offered fertility treatments for a steep discount, and decided to try to get on the year long wait list for IVF in case that was the route we'd need to take.  I was told when I called that because I'd changed my insurance plan so that I could see civilian doctors, the military facility could not see me.  I felt like every door was being slammed in my face.  On our 13th cycle, and a few nights before Halloween, I sat on the floor of Matt's office and just broke down.  I hadn't wanted to put any extra stress on him, but the floodgates just opened up, and I told him how unfair this was, how much it hurt, and how mad it made me.  I just felt defeated.  I would never be able to just give up, but I couldn't imagine that this was ever going to happen.  Little did I know God had slammed those doors on me for a very good reason.