Holy !#%*

There was a heartbeat!
You could have knocked me over when the doctor said that. Apparently it was a subchorionic hematoma. She said its position should not affect the pregnancy. I go again on Tuesday to check the heartbeat, and in the meantime I am supposed to take it easy.

I am in shock. I am never that girl, the one who gets the reprieve. I feel so lucky. I am not out of the woods yet (not even close), but at least I am still in it with a chance.

So grateful.

Angry

i am so angry. So betrayed and hurt and surprised. And then angry that I feel all those things again.

I got my first positive at 9dpo- faint, but there.
Beta was at 14dpo- 108! My best beta ever (sad I know).
Beta at 16dpo - 204...not quite doubling, but a stone's throw from where it should be. The nurse scoffed at me when I expressed my concern.
22dpo- ultrasound shows sac the right size and place. I start to panic due to flashbacks of my blighted ovum which was just a sac. But nurse repeatedly assured me they saw exactly what they needed to/should at this point. Beta comes back at 1540. Cue more panic because a doubling time of only 57 hours, but nurse again says it is fine and not to worry. Despite all odds, I actually do put my worry aside. I figure I am being ridiculous and chasing trouble. I have never been a beta rockstar and the nurse seems confident.

Last night. 5w6d. Walking back from dinner during a "romantic getaway" with my husband and I feel a gush as I walk. It vaguely reminds me of my period, but I dismiss as probably the joy of vaginal suppositories. I head to the bathroom and am covered in blood. Thick, dark red, unmistakeable. I could not even really cry because my shock was so real.

If it had stopped at one gush, I might still have hope. The on-call doctor tried to give me hope when I called. My lack of cramping was a good thing. But then, I did have cramping. Not in my stomach, but my lower back, just like my period. And the blood kept coming. Heavy...filling up one pad, then two, then three. More than I can remember ever seeing at one time.

It's stopped now. At least, I think it has. It lasted all of about three hours; by midnight last night it was for the most part over. And now I sit in a super crowded doctor's office, full of people with hope for their iui and their monitoring bloodwork. And I am dying inside.

My  third miscarriage in 14 months. No two the same. A chemical, a blighted ovum, a "typical" bleed. All completely sucky.

I am different too. Bitter. Not sure I can do this again. I have a beautiful son. I have a life I keep putting on hold. I have pounds of depression/pregnancy weight I have gained from non-viable pregnancies that I want to lose. Maybe the time has come to move on. Take control of the things I can control and be fulfilled with what I have. Maybe.

But for now, I am angry and bitter and betrayed.

The Panic is Setting In...

I tested today. 4dp3dt (7DPO). Why?!? Why?! I don't think I have ever tested this early. Logically, I know it is not that likely to get a positive this early. And really, I had intended not to test at all except for the day of the beta. So why, why, why did I do this to myself (and more importantly, why am I letting it bother me)?

Ok...I kind of know why. The luxury of the "borderline" day. You know, most likely too early to get a positive, but still actually possible to get a positive. I call these days 7-9. Actually, I usually call these days 8-9. I have always firmly believed 7 was too early for a positive. But then, when I was trying to reassure myself of this fact, I turned to my good friend  enabler Google and found the site countdowntopregnancy.com. And according to them, the odds of getting a positive at 7dpo is actually 20%. 20%. That seems pretty good! So, like an addict, I broke out my pee sticks and tested. Erm...twice. And of course, blankety blank blank.

Argh. Now the panic is setting in. Of course I know a negative today does not really mean anything. I was negative with my son from 5dp3dt through 7dp3dt....so I know that things could definitely still be good. But seeing that blank test today made a negative outcome seem like a real and concrete possibility now. And between my completely failed FET, my chemical and my blighted ovum, I think I have pee stick PTSD. I am so scared of getting more blank tests, or even getting light tests (although - to be clear - I am MUCH more afraid of the blank ones). I've already decided that if I (please G-d) get a positive test, I will stop testing. But should I even be testing in the meantime? What if that positive doesn't come? I honestly don't know if my heart (and my husband) can handle it.

I wish I could say I am not going to test tomorrow. Or that I am going to throw out my tests. Or that I will be okay if I still have negatives once I no longer have borderline days as a buffer. But I know none of that is true. However, what is true is that I still have a chance no matter what today's test said. And that is what I need to focus on moving forward.

Here I go again...

Bless me internet, for I have lapsed. It has been over 2 years since my last posting.

I don't know why I am posting. Or what I am expecting. I think the only reader I might still have is my sister (*waves hello*). But on the same token, infertility sucks. And you know what sucks just as much as infertility...secondary infertility.And I just feel like venting. So, anyway, here I go (again)...

I would never say it is worse. There is NOTHING worse than that fear that you will never be a mother. But  that is not to say that secondary fertility is easy. First, you feel guilty.  You remember what it was like to have primary infertility. I can't tell you how many secondary infertility blogs I quickly clicked off with an eye roll and "get over yourself" thought when I was going through primary infertility. But now that I am here, I get it. It sucks. Sorry. But having gone through primary infertility,  the fact that you are even complaining  about wanting a second baby makes you feel like the worst, most greediest person in the world. Of course you are blessed. Of course you are grateful for the miracle that is your child. Yet you want more. And you feel incredibly guilty for that.

Second, when you are going through primary infertility, people kind of *get* it. They understand that yearning to be a mother. But when you have secondary infertility, it's not the same. I can't tell you how many people have told me H is "such a blessing" and "even if he is my only child, I am so lucky". I hear you. I get it. See my above paragraph about the guilt. However on the same token, all these people that are telling me to be happy to have one and it will happen if/when G-d plans, seem just a tad hypocritical because they got to have the family size/spacing/etc of their choice. So not only are you going through the struggle, but you feel slightly more alone, guilty, and judged.

Third, all infertility is not created equally. My first time, it turns out, I had relatively "easy" infertility (oh how past B would totally punch present B in the face for typing that). But seriously, it was extremely painful and hard, but when we finally did IVF, it worked.  I now realize how incredibly, incredibly lucky that was. This time has been much more emotionally charged.  I am 16 months in, have 2 Failed FETs (well, one BFN, and one blighted ovum) and one natural chemical. Plus, I had another fresh IVF that resulted in a freeze all on day 3 instead of 5 because they looked "average at best". It gets really scary when these "Big Guns" don't work. Because what is left?

Anyway, despite this brain dump of pessimism, I actually don't feel as bleak as this sounds.  I am currently in the TWW after an FET (my third so far since having H in 2013).  We are using the "average at best" embryos which miraculously looked "excellent" yesterday. They are a 7 cell and an 8 cell. My son H, was a 3 day 8 cell embryo, so I have to say, I felt optimistic yesterday looking at the photo. It reminded me so much of that time 3 years ago when this was all still new, unknown, and most importantly, worked. Please please, may this third time be the charm.

Best Moment of My Life

I wrote this post last Monday, but had to wait to post it until I saw my sister today and could share the news in person (since she sometimes reads this blog).

Today we had the anatomy scan. For most the pregnancy, D and I had been agreed we would not find out the gender.

Well, agreed might not be the right word.

All my life, I always have wanted to know the gender of the baby - my baby, a sibling's baby, a friend's baby - whoever. I am impatient and absolutely hate when people say stuff like, "it's the last great surprise". First of all, surprises are way overrated. And secondly, it is still a surprise when you find out at twenty weeks. D has always wanted to find out at delivery. He feels that the guy gets to do so little, that it is the man's big job to leave the waiting room and announce to everyone the big reveal. Enter infertility: in my desperation to get pregnant, I realized I would be happy no matter the gender, no matter when we found out, I would just be so grateful that I was pregnant. So I agreed with D that we could wait it out.

Of course, that was only true until I actually was pregnant. Then my desire to know came back with a red hot burning passion. However, D made me hold to my compromise. So, despite (lots and lots of) whining on my part, we were staunchly team green.

And then Christmas came. In my stocking, was a card from Lilly, our cat (yes, our animals give us cards). Anyhow, the message inside read, "Mommy, Daddy really wants you to know the gender. Ask him, he'll agree." And so I did, and he did, and then we were all of a sudden agreeing to find out!

Fast forward to today. I had NO instinct going into this. In the beginning, I thought maybe it was a girl because the heartbeat was always fast. Also because, as much as I hate to admit it, my weight gain has been of an "all over" sort, and I know that is usually associated with girls. But overall, no gut feeling. I would waver based on any given day. I thought I wanted a boy more, for several reasons, but I also felt (contrarily) that I might be disappointed if it was a girl (that's me - Miss Glass Half Empty- the normal way to look at that would be to say I was going to be happy either way. But I can be prone to depression, and I was afraid I would ruin my happiness no matter what the outcome).

We showed up for the appointment and, as I laid down on the table, I knew with absolute certainty I would be happy either way. Thrilled. My heart was beating a million miles a minute, and the tech nearly killed me by scanning other stuff first (you know, inconsequential stuff like the heart and the brain). Finally, she says, "Oh there's the jewel".

I was flummoxed. I have heard of "the jewels" of course, but what she said was definitely singular. Is a girl part singular? So of course I asked, and both D and the tech laughed at me (fair enough - because if you saw the shot we were looking at, I should not have questioned it no matter what word she used).

It's a boy. We are having a boy.

I have never, ever in my life actually cried tears of joy. But out they flowed. I was (am) ridiculously, deliriously happy.

On the way home, I told D that today was the happiest day of my life. He did not understand. He thought for sure the day we found out we were pregnant would be. But it couldn't be. That day had so much fear and doubt and hope tied into it, that I did not let myself feel that unbridled happiness. And the same for every subsequent ultrasound. While there was of course relief and happiness, the fear was also there. Today, I managed to just be happy for the first time in this pregnancy.

And it is all thanks to my little boy.

Absent

 

So it’s been a long time since I’ve written. And, like all things that you neglect for a while, the longer I was away the harder it was to come back. However, even though I have been absent from the blog – it has not been absent from me. I think about it all the time. Well, not the blog exactly, but this community. How much I get from being a part of it, and how it supported me through a bleak time I did not know how I was going to make it through. And even when I have not been writing, I have been stalking reading everyone’s blogs faithfully.

I am struggling with being articulate, so please forgive me if any of this comes out wrong. I’ve debated writing this post a thousand times (possibly literally) in my head, but I can never formulate the right sentiment. You see, I’ve lost my voice. I don’t know how to write in this space anymore.  Partially because I know there are so many people still struggling and I don’t want to add to their pain by comparing my baby to a fruit, or posting pictures of nursery inspiration. I’ve been there – I know – it sucks (plus it is kind of boring). 

However, beyond my worry of offending, another reason I have not been able to write is that cataloging my joys does not seem to fit here.  This is a place I wailed, gnashed my teeth and worried myself into an ulcer or two. Relief? Celebration? Those never really made an appearance here, and I am not sure how to make it fit in. Besides, while I do feel all of those things, I have not exactly been an unbridled pregnant person – I have not taken the bump photos, bought a single item or, well, planned for this baby. Don’t get me wrong, I am ridiculously happy – I sometimes thank God out loud for being so lucky that this has happened – but I don’t wallow in it. And I think to be a good blogger, you need to be a wallower, fully immersed in whatever it is that you are feeling and spilling over with the need to share. And I have not been there. Mine is a quiet joy, one that I have not figured out how to make public, even with my real life friends and family.

So I have no real resolution. I know I will still post updates because I hate when bloggers drop off the face of the earth (erm - like I just did for over a month). Plus, I have some good big deal stuff coming up (gender reveal woohoo) and some old-fashioned worries looming ahead (t-shaped uterus = risk for second trimester miscarriages -oh, my old friend worried-obsession, that's where you've been).  In the meantime, between posts, please know I am still rooting for you, analyzing your charts and commenting whenever my @#!* new apple phone lets me (a subject for another post - but it was much easier to comment when I was a Droid girl versus an Apple one. Call me old fashioned, but I need a keyboard).

12 - 13 week happenings

This week I am officially 13 weeks. Spitting distance to the second trimester. It can't get here soon enough.

We had our NT scan last week and I came back as "pending" which is apparently as good as it can get at this stage, saying that we are at low risk for downs, trisomy, and neural tube defects. Seeing the baby during the NT scan was the first time I really felt pregnant - it started to sink in that we have a baby in there and we might actually have a chance (excuse me while I go knock on every piece of wood in the house). It was amazing to see the baby jumping all over the place. We thought it had hiccups, but the tech said it was just launching itself off the uterus because there was so much room. Truthfully, due to the energy level of this little guy or girl, I am suspect that it might not be a baby, but a Labrador retriever we have in there...it reminded me an awful lot of our puppy Luna.

Anyhow, the heartbeat still looked good (165), so we decided the time had come to start telling people. In my case, this meant making an official work announcement. I was so so dreading this. I am completely, 100% socially awkward, and there is nothing I hate more than being the center of attention. Truly, I cringe. So the idea of standing up at a faculty meeting and announcing I was pregnant was giving me the heeby jeebies. And don't even get me started with the thought of telling my class! But, I put on my big girl pants (well, I have to - they are the only ones that fit) and told everyone, and of course it was very nice.

Little by little, I am also telling co-workers it was an IVF baby. Part of me thinks this is way too much to share with people that aren't family and intimate friends, but another part of me thinks, why the heck not?! I want people to know that this was not easy, and, if anyone I am working with is struggling, I hope it lessens the pain of hearing the announcement a little bit. Of course, once I start talking about it I have a bit of verbal diarrhea...I am currently working on how to share without completely oversharing (socially acceptable: Yes we are still on medication. Less so: I am currently taking progesterone suppositories and am leaking as we speak. It seems like an easy distinction, but I scarily almost crossed that line the other day).

So now we are in a big waiting pattern. I am 14 weeks on Tuesday. However, I don't have my next doctor's appointment until January 4th (or, to say it in the dramatic fashion it sounds in my head: I don't have an appointment until next year!!!) and that is really scary to me. I tried using an at-home doppler today and I think it was invented to be evil and torture people. After 25 minutes, I may have found the heartbeat, but it it may also have been gas. Who knows? What I do know is that I need D to hide it from me so I have some shred of sanity left by our January appointment.