I'm having an emotional time this morning remembering the babies we lost and grieving over the other members of our family that we will probably never have. The intensity of the emotions has surprised me. Trying to remember to be happy with what we have is proving to be especially hard this morning...
-- Post From My iPhone
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Friday, April 23, 2010
Learning to live a worry-free life
My pre-menopausal state has apparently decided to manifest itself physically. I knew it would happen eventually and sooner rather than later, but less than a month after getting the news? I'm on day 38 of my cycle, and no, I'm not pregnant. Spoke with my doctor yesterday, and if I didn't have a positive urine pregnancy test this morning then I'm not pregnant, so I'm not pregnant... I'm supposed to call back if I go two months without a period.
I know I said I'm happy with our family like it is, but do you sometimes find yourself saying something if only to convince yourself? Maybe if I say it over and over, I'll eventually believe it...
I was really irritable this past weekend. At first I wasn't sure why. I was short and snippy with Kevin, and we were quarreling over silly little things. And then I realized that there was something that had my mind preoccupied. The loss of my friend's daughter really shook me up. I couldn't help wondering what if we lost Savannah? Other children would never replace the ones you lost, but it does soften the blow. But we CAN'T have more kids to soften that fearful blow. I'm so very happy and proud of my child but I DO want more. I find myself being scared with the idea that we may be left with no children.
I told myself that I'm not going to monitor anything anymore. If we get pregnant, I will probably miscarry anyway. But I was hoping I was pregnant this time. I was hoping that we would someday accidentally get pregnant and miraculously keep the pregnancy to term and have a living, healthy baby at the end. I was hoping for our happy ending. But this pre-menopausal cycle has reminded me that that isn't likely and probably not possible.
I feel the need to come to terms with my family the way it is - to be happy with what I have. But no, I'm not at peace yet. I am grieving over the family that I envisioned, and it is a process I haven't completed yet.
Everyone keeps telling me stress can play a factor in your cycle. Maybe the grief is interfering with it. My fear is that I'm in a perpetual state of stress that I don't even know what non-stress feels like. I want to learn how to live a worry-free life. I want to learn to be happy with what I have now.
I know I said I'm happy with our family like it is, but do you sometimes find yourself saying something if only to convince yourself? Maybe if I say it over and over, I'll eventually believe it...
I was really irritable this past weekend. At first I wasn't sure why. I was short and snippy with Kevin, and we were quarreling over silly little things. And then I realized that there was something that had my mind preoccupied. The loss of my friend's daughter really shook me up. I couldn't help wondering what if we lost Savannah? Other children would never replace the ones you lost, but it does soften the blow. But we CAN'T have more kids to soften that fearful blow. I'm so very happy and proud of my child but I DO want more. I find myself being scared with the idea that we may be left with no children.
I told myself that I'm not going to monitor anything anymore. If we get pregnant, I will probably miscarry anyway. But I was hoping I was pregnant this time. I was hoping that we would someday accidentally get pregnant and miraculously keep the pregnancy to term and have a living, healthy baby at the end. I was hoping for our happy ending. But this pre-menopausal cycle has reminded me that that isn't likely and probably not possible.
I feel the need to come to terms with my family the way it is - to be happy with what I have. But no, I'm not at peace yet. I am grieving over the family that I envisioned, and it is a process I haven't completed yet.
Everyone keeps telling me stress can play a factor in your cycle. Maybe the grief is interfering with it. My fear is that I'm in a perpetual state of stress that I don't even know what non-stress feels like. I want to learn how to live a worry-free life. I want to learn to be happy with what I have now.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Extra hugs
Tuesday evening I learned that an old friend of mine from junior high lost (I think unexpectedly) his 4 year old daughter due to undiagnosed brain swelling, and learning this has really weighed heavy on me the last couple days. I've not been on the helpless end of a tragedy since we've been on the hurting end of our tragedies, but I think it's affected me so much because I can relate so closely to the pain I know that family is feeling right now. It feels so wrong when a child dies.
I spoke to him earlier today for the first time in 12 years, and I thought about all the things I wanted to tell him to help him and his family through this dark time. I was nervous about calling, but I decided to because I know just offering words of condolences can be a comfort in and of themselves. I wanted to say that people will inadvertently say some insensitive things, but to try to look past their words to their intentions. I wanted to tell him about the anger he will feel but to try to not let it turn into bitterness. I wanted to tell him about the surreal emptiness that is just too painful to fully comprehend at first but will ease its grip over time. I wanted to tell him that the mornings when you are alone with your thoughts will be the hardest time of the day. I wanted to tell him that grieving is an individual journey that each person does at their own pace and in their own way and to be gentle and patient with each other. I wanted to tell him above all that it's so important to do the work of grief.
But I didn't mention any of those things. These are all lessons he and his wife will have to learn on their journey, and that saddens me. I told him there's not much I can say to make it better, it will be hard, and I'm so sorry they have to go through this.
Even before hearing this news, I've thought about what would happen if we lost Savannah. I look at all the pictures she draws, and I keep the special ones for memories. I'll see something that's completely unique to her like a strand of her curly hair, a dried out marker, a cheap little silly toy that she enjoys playing with; and I'll leave it where it is - just in case I need it to remind me of her later. But more specifically, it's times like these that remind me to cherish the loved ones in our lives because we never know if we might not have them with us anymore. Tonight I made sure to give my little girl extra hugs because I can.
I spoke to him earlier today for the first time in 12 years, and I thought about all the things I wanted to tell him to help him and his family through this dark time. I was nervous about calling, but I decided to because I know just offering words of condolences can be a comfort in and of themselves. I wanted to say that people will inadvertently say some insensitive things, but to try to look past their words to their intentions. I wanted to tell him about the anger he will feel but to try to not let it turn into bitterness. I wanted to tell him about the surreal emptiness that is just too painful to fully comprehend at first but will ease its grip over time. I wanted to tell him that the mornings when you are alone with your thoughts will be the hardest time of the day. I wanted to tell him that grieving is an individual journey that each person does at their own pace and in their own way and to be gentle and patient with each other. I wanted to tell him above all that it's so important to do the work of grief.
But I didn't mention any of those things. These are all lessons he and his wife will have to learn on their journey, and that saddens me. I told him there's not much I can say to make it better, it will be hard, and I'm so sorry they have to go through this.
Even before hearing this news, I've thought about what would happen if we lost Savannah. I look at all the pictures she draws, and I keep the special ones for memories. I'll see something that's completely unique to her like a strand of her curly hair, a dried out marker, a cheap little silly toy that she enjoys playing with; and I'll leave it where it is - just in case I need it to remind me of her later. But more specifically, it's times like these that remind me to cherish the loved ones in our lives because we never know if we might not have them with us anymore. Tonight I made sure to give my little girl extra hugs because I can.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
End of the journey
So, I think we made it to the end of our infertility journey, and it is bittersweet. I say "I think" because you never know what cogs will get thrown into your wheel of a plan. But based on our current circumstances, "I think" we're done.
I wrote earlier that I had decided to stop stressing about all this fertility stuff and just let it play out as it would. Well, I've taken it a step further and I think I'm done playing it out.
After coming to the realization that IVF could cost substantially more than we initially bargained for, I told Kevin that the ball is in his court. I'm not going to bring it up again. It has always been a higher priority to Kevin to have two sons, and I told him he has to figure out how much it's worth to him. I'll go along for the ride, but I'm mentally tired of rehashing my history for 2nd and 3rd and 4th opinions (which never are in concurrance anyway). I'll show up for blood draws and exams and procedures if he wants to pursue anything, but any other options will have to explored and initiated by him. I'm done.
It saddens me that Savannah will be an only child, and it's sad that we didn't end up with the family we initially set out to create, but I feel liberated. This is a peaceful place to be. I don't need to plan for more children, and we can fully focus all our energy and attention on our one living, healthy child and move forward with our family as we know it now.
I've been thinking about writing a book of fiction loosely based on our own pregnancy loss circumstances. I wondered to myself how I would end it - happy with the magical rainbow baby or sad without the triumphant live birth. But I came to the realization that this too is a happy ending even though it has been touched by tradgedy (whose story hasn't been touched by sadness in some way?) It is a happy ending because I am at peace with the beautiful family I have helped create and am a part of.
-- Post From My iPhone
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
40 year old ovaries
I just found out I have the ovaries of a 40 year old even though I'm only 30. I spoke with our infertility doctor today and my day 3 labs came back. My inhibin B and estrogen are on the low side with numbers indicating perimenopausal. However, my doctor said we are only at a "yellow light" right now as far as ovarian reserve because my FSH was normal.
I mentioned to my doctor that there isn't a history of early menopause in my family as far as I know, but he said that the abruption or heavy bleeding from it could have caused me to loose a lot of eggs. I don't know if I had heavy bleeding from the abruption. He asked if I needed a transfusion, but I didn't. I do know that I had heavy bleeding with this last miscarriage.
Maybe my ovaries are just plum tuckered out after all this drama. Apparently my uterus is up for the task even though it's been through hell and back, why aren't my stupid ovaries?! All they have to do is release eggs, it's the uterus that has to do all the heavy lifting! Come on girls, get it together! Anyway, back on topic...
Because of my hyperactive natural killer cells, he also wants to order a DQ Alpha test for both me and Kevin to test genetic similarity (which insurance also does not cover). My doctor says it's rare, but if the DNA of a couple is too similar, the woman's body will reject the pregnancy (this happens in nature to prevent things like offspring from incest and such, ya know...) I asked a few questions about what it would mean if we were too similar, and there are options, but it would complicate things a lot. We'll explore that path if we need to. It stresses me out too much to think about it right now. It would however offer an explanation for all the unexplained problems we've had (stillbirth, abruption, miscarriages).
It just seems to me like this story is getting worse and worse. I got off the phone today feeling really discouraged. I really really want more kids and to have at least one living sibling for Savannah, but I really want to be done with all this soon. Apparently, my ovaries want to be done with all this soon too. Do you hear that noise? Is that a clock ticking? Lemme go find out where that's coming from...
I mentioned to my doctor that there isn't a history of early menopause in my family as far as I know, but he said that the abruption or heavy bleeding from it could have caused me to loose a lot of eggs. I don't know if I had heavy bleeding from the abruption. He asked if I needed a transfusion, but I didn't. I do know that I had heavy bleeding with this last miscarriage.
Maybe my ovaries are just plum tuckered out after all this drama. Apparently my uterus is up for the task even though it's been through hell and back, why aren't my stupid ovaries?! All they have to do is release eggs, it's the uterus that has to do all the heavy lifting! Come on girls, get it together! Anyway, back on topic...
Because of my hyperactive natural killer cells, he also wants to order a DQ Alpha test for both me and Kevin to test genetic similarity (which insurance also does not cover). My doctor says it's rare, but if the DNA of a couple is too similar, the woman's body will reject the pregnancy (this happens in nature to prevent things like offspring from incest and such, ya know...) I asked a few questions about what it would mean if we were too similar, and there are options, but it would complicate things a lot. We'll explore that path if we need to. It stresses me out too much to think about it right now. It would however offer an explanation for all the unexplained problems we've had (stillbirth, abruption, miscarriages).
It just seems to me like this story is getting worse and worse. I got off the phone today feeling really discouraged. I really really want more kids and to have at least one living sibling for Savannah, but I really want to be done with all this soon. Apparently, my ovaries want to be done with all this soon too. Do you hear that noise? Is that a clock ticking? Lemme go find out where that's coming from...
Rebirth of the seasons
Last Wednesday, March 24th was Garrett's one year birthday. I would have posted earlier about it, but I've been super busy since then. I'm still super busy. In fact, I'm always super busy. But I figured if I let more time go by it would cease to be relevant, and I would forget the emotions I was experiencing. So here I am making time.
Garrett's birthday also happens to coincide with Kevin's birthday. That makes it especially tough. I mentioned this to Kevin before his birthday to find out if he wanted to do anything to commemorate the event, but he doesn't want the sadness of the event to make others uncomfortable when they are trying to celebrate his birthday. So I decided to have my little pity party all by myself. I allowed myself time to be alone with my emotions so that I could deal with them and then have the ability to focus on Kevin without allowing the sadness of Garrett's birth to overshadow Kevin's birthday. That strategy seemed to work well.
I took some time away from everyone and looked over old pictures and videos of our little guy. I had myself a good cry and then treated myself to lunch with my husband. I had a lot of people tell me that they can't believe it's already been a year, but I keep thinking to myself, "It's only been a year?!" It seems longer to me! It seems like I'm moving in slow motion trying to reach our goal. To say we've had a lot happen in the past year is an understatement.
We're also approaching the anniversary of Garrett's death. I'm finding this to be even more difficult as things keep bringing me back to the events and emotions surrounding it. Although the circumstance of his birth is tragic, it was characterized by emotions that were not altogether sad. Certainly fear was associated with it, but there was that time of uncertainty tinged with cautious optimism because he was born alive. But his death on the other hand is only characterized by sadness.
Garrett's death was on April 7th, but the memorial service just happened to coincide with Easter Sunday. All the things that we do for Easter and in the Spring bring me back to that time. My family is coming in to celebrate Savannah's birthday which is April 2nd. They will also be here for Easter Sunday, and it seems like deja vu in a way.
This past weekend I cleaned out the little memorial garden that my parents and I made for Sierra and Garrett, and it brought back all those memories and emotions when we were creating it for them. Spring and the associated rebirth of the seasons used to be a time that reminded me of life and vitality and optimism, but it's seeming to have the opposite effect on me this year. Can I hope for a time when this change of season doesn't seem so dark?
Garrett's birthday also happens to coincide with Kevin's birthday. That makes it especially tough. I mentioned this to Kevin before his birthday to find out if he wanted to do anything to commemorate the event, but he doesn't want the sadness of the event to make others uncomfortable when they are trying to celebrate his birthday. So I decided to have my little pity party all by myself. I allowed myself time to be alone with my emotions so that I could deal with them and then have the ability to focus on Kevin without allowing the sadness of Garrett's birth to overshadow Kevin's birthday. That strategy seemed to work well.
I took some time away from everyone and looked over old pictures and videos of our little guy. I had myself a good cry and then treated myself to lunch with my husband. I had a lot of people tell me that they can't believe it's already been a year, but I keep thinking to myself, "It's only been a year?!" It seems longer to me! It seems like I'm moving in slow motion trying to reach our goal. To say we've had a lot happen in the past year is an understatement.
We're also approaching the anniversary of Garrett's death. I'm finding this to be even more difficult as things keep bringing me back to the events and emotions surrounding it. Although the circumstance of his birth is tragic, it was characterized by emotions that were not altogether sad. Certainly fear was associated with it, but there was that time of uncertainty tinged with cautious optimism because he was born alive. But his death on the other hand is only characterized by sadness.
Garrett's death was on April 7th, but the memorial service just happened to coincide with Easter Sunday. All the things that we do for Easter and in the Spring bring me back to that time. My family is coming in to celebrate Savannah's birthday which is April 2nd. They will also be here for Easter Sunday, and it seems like deja vu in a way.
This past weekend I cleaned out the little memorial garden that my parents and I made for Sierra and Garrett, and it brought back all those memories and emotions when we were creating it for them. Spring and the associated rebirth of the seasons used to be a time that reminded me of life and vitality and optimism, but it's seeming to have the opposite effect on me this year. Can I hope for a time when this change of season doesn't seem so dark?
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Natural Killer Cells and moving on
I spoke with the RE this morning, and apparently I tested positive for hyperactive Natural Killer Cells. Based on the research I did online there is some controversy surrounding this diagnosis, but based on his school of thought he feels this is causing the early miscarriages.
The theory is that these hyperactive natural killer cells (or a type of white blood cells) are attacking the embryo. If the embryo is able to grow large enough, it can "defend" itself. So this does not explain the stillbirth or abruption. The doctor explained that there are no other tests we can do where we can find a cause for those. He assured me that I will be closely monitored during my pregnancy, but that doesn't give me much assurance considering the circumstances.
Successful pregnancies can be had with the hyperactive NKC because one can become more sensitive with repeat "exposures" hence the reason why we would be having a problem with miscarriages now when I've never had a problem before.
If we decide to continue to try naturally with no treatment, we have about a 4% chance of having a successful pregnancy. However, if we decide to do IVF with intravenous immunoglobulin (IVIG) therapy to treat the NKC, we have about a 60% chance of having a successful pregnancy. We can't do the IVIG therapy without IVF because they are supposed to give the first infusion two weeks before you're pregnant. If you don't do IVF, the timing is unpredictable.
Even though this is just one diagnosis, I feel this is a lot to take in. We've found a cause for the the early miscarriages, but it has essentially eliminated our option for trying naturally. I wanted to have the option to try naturally before or after our IVF attempt in case it didn't work.
It also hasn't given us an explanation for Sierra or Garrett. I'm apprehensive about paying for IVF with the thought in mind that we could loose the pregnancy later on. However, I'd rather have the bill and have tried and failed than not have tried at all. At least then we're not stuck with "what if's".
With all this in mind, I've decided to change my perspective on things - if only to manage my stress level surrounding all this. I've decided to move forward with the assumption that we may never have anymore children. If the expectation is set, then I can't be let down. I read on the clinic's website that the sensitivity I've developed is more the exception than the rule - usually women who have this are not able to have any children because they start off with this sensitivity. We beat the odds once, and maybe we already had our little "rainbow" baby that some couples try for years and never succeed at.
After I came to this decision, I felt instantly lighter like some weight had been lifted from my metaphorical shoulders. I know this is probably just a coping mechanism, but I know this is the right way to deal with it for me. I've allowed myself to move on and not worry and stress about it anymore.
I would like to continue to try as long as we can afford it and have the health to do so, but I'm going in with the assumption that it may not work and we may never have any more children. And if it succeeds, then we'll be pleasantly surprised. We may only end up being stuck with the bill, but at least we can say we tried, and most importantly we can be thankful for our one living healthy child.
The theory is that these hyperactive natural killer cells (or a type of white blood cells) are attacking the embryo. If the embryo is able to grow large enough, it can "defend" itself. So this does not explain the stillbirth or abruption. The doctor explained that there are no other tests we can do where we can find a cause for those. He assured me that I will be closely monitored during my pregnancy, but that doesn't give me much assurance considering the circumstances.
Successful pregnancies can be had with the hyperactive NKC because one can become more sensitive with repeat "exposures" hence the reason why we would be having a problem with miscarriages now when I've never had a problem before.
If we decide to continue to try naturally with no treatment, we have about a 4% chance of having a successful pregnancy. However, if we decide to do IVF with intravenous immunoglobulin (IVIG) therapy to treat the NKC, we have about a 60% chance of having a successful pregnancy. We can't do the IVIG therapy without IVF because they are supposed to give the first infusion two weeks before you're pregnant. If you don't do IVF, the timing is unpredictable.
Even though this is just one diagnosis, I feel this is a lot to take in. We've found a cause for the the early miscarriages, but it has essentially eliminated our option for trying naturally. I wanted to have the option to try naturally before or after our IVF attempt in case it didn't work.
It also hasn't given us an explanation for Sierra or Garrett. I'm apprehensive about paying for IVF with the thought in mind that we could loose the pregnancy later on. However, I'd rather have the bill and have tried and failed than not have tried at all. At least then we're not stuck with "what if's".
With all this in mind, I've decided to change my perspective on things - if only to manage my stress level surrounding all this. I've decided to move forward with the assumption that we may never have anymore children. If the expectation is set, then I can't be let down. I read on the clinic's website that the sensitivity I've developed is more the exception than the rule - usually women who have this are not able to have any children because they start off with this sensitivity. We beat the odds once, and maybe we already had our little "rainbow" baby that some couples try for years and never succeed at.
After I came to this decision, I felt instantly lighter like some weight had been lifted from my metaphorical shoulders. I know this is probably just a coping mechanism, but I know this is the right way to deal with it for me. I've allowed myself to move on and not worry and stress about it anymore.
I would like to continue to try as long as we can afford it and have the health to do so, but I'm going in with the assumption that it may not work and we may never have any more children. And if it succeeds, then we'll be pleasantly surprised. We may only end up being stuck with the bill, but at least we can say we tried, and most importantly we can be thankful for our one living healthy child.
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